ChapterNineteen
Ronan walked Chloe back to her apartment and had a hard time leaving her. He’d wanted to crawl back into bed with her, but they both had things to do. It had been a rough morning, but as long as he remembered his place within Chloe’s life, they’d have a hell of a good time. He thought about the little she’d said about her ex. Nessa’d had a similar response when he’d asked about Tony and how he’d treated her. He didn’t understand why women would put up with shit like that. Chloe shifted the conversation pretty quickly, reminding him yet again that they were casual. Part of him was getting too invested and he knew it was a mistake.
He’d never in his life cared about what Laura McCarthy thought of him and his family. Not since the night they’d had him arrested. But what she thought mattered to her daughter, no matter how much Chloe might pretend it didn’t.
When he walked into his house, he heard the echo of a saw whirring from the backyard. Declan was up and working before eleven a.m.? Ronan went straight to the kitchen to see what kind of mess he was dealing with.
Declan came in through the back door carrying a sheet of expensive plywood. “Hey.” He smirked. “Walk of shame?”
“No shame here.”
“Stride of pride?”
Ronan grunted.
“Just got laid parade?”
“Enough.” Even though he wasn’t wrong on either count, Ronan wasn’t about to encourage him. “How are things going here?”
“Good. I’ve got everything laid out and I’m cutting in the yard to minimize mess, but building in here.”
“You’re measuring twice?”
Declan rolled his eyes. “I know what I’m doing. I might not have listened to everything you and Brendan tried to teach me, but I do remember to measure twice, cut once.”
“Good. ’Cause I’ll beat your ass if you waste perfectly good wood.”
“That’s what she said.”
It was Ronan’s turn to roll his eyes. “Grow up.”
He left the room to shower and change. Then he planned to go to the O’Malleys to see if he could find anything out there.
Stopping at the coffee shop near the O’Malleys, he texted his mom to see if she had any idea of what he could bring Mr. O’Malley. She reminded him that the old man was diabetic and that Jimmy would kill him if he gave Seamus sweets. Black coffee it was.
He arrived at the O’Malley house and parked. He probably should’ve called, but it seemed like a weird conversation to have over the phone, so he was taking his chances like this. Seamus O’Malley had been retired for years and even Ronan knew he rarely went out anywhere. He rang the bell and waited.
Tommy O’Malley answered the door and his face filled with shock. “Ronan?”
“Yeah. Sorry to show up like this, but I was wondering if your dad was around? I’d like to talk to him.”
“Shit. He’s always here. Come on in.”
Ronan held both cups of coffee in one hand and opened the screen door with the other. Tommy disappeared into the house.
“Hey, Dad. Ronan Doyle is here to see you.” Then he turned to look at Ronan. “He’s in the kitchen. Go ahead. I’m getting ready for work. See ya.” He ran up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Ronan made his way to the kitchen where he found Mr. O’Malley sitting at the table reading a newspaper. An honest to God, real newspaper. Ronan didn’t even know they still sold them.
The old man looked up from the paper and squinted at him. “Haven’t seen you in years. I’m not a cop anymore, so if you’re in trouble I ain’t the one to talk to.”
Ronan shuffled forward and set the coffee in front of him. “It’s just black coffee. And no, I’m not in trouble. Been staying out of it for a long time now. Can I sit?”
Seamus nodded at a chair and pulled the lid off the to-go cup. “What do you want?”
“I was hoping you’d be willing to talk about the summer my dad went missing. You were a cop back then.” Ronan sat in the chair across from him.
“Wasn’t my case.”
“I know, but you knew the people who were in charge and you knew my dad.”
“Why the hell are you dredging this up now? It’s been what? Twenty years?” He folded the newspaper and put it to the side.
At least Ronan wasn’t being summarily dismissed. He sighed. “It has been twenty years and I’ve been searching for answers for at least half that time, but we have no answers. No matter where I looked or who I talked to, I found nothing, but in my gut, all roads led to Cahill Construction. So I got a job working for them and now I’m running a crew.”
Seamus grunted. “You think Cahill had something to do with your father?”
“They know something, whether they did something to him or not. They know. I just can’t figure out how to find what I’m looking for. Last weekend, I had some of the guys over to my place and Joe McKinley told me that the cash envelopes are what got my dad into trouble. He said my dad was running all kinds of errands for Cahill back then for extra money. Cahill was doing back alley political deals and Danny was into drugs.”
“All sounds about right. I never saw the case file on your dad, but you know this neighborhood. Everyone had an opinion. Back then, it was mostly mob talk. Cahills are connected. I don’t know why they would’ve gone after your dad, though. He wasn’t nobody special.”
“Is it possible he saw or heard something that he wasn’t supposed to?”
“Sure. But we’re not talking mob hit. They’d blackball him. He’d never get a job again. That was worse than anything. Especially for a man with a house full of mouths to feed.” He sipped his coffee.
Ronan let those thoughts tumble around in his head. “Do you know anyone from back then who might know anything? Someone who had more knowledge than gossip?”
Seamus shrugged. “I only knew cops back then. Most are probably retired. You should ask Jimmy. He’s there. Has access to case files. He can get you names.”
“Thanks.” Ronan wasn’t so sure that Jimmy would help him. He might if Brendan asked though. One cop to another. “Can you give me Jimmy’s number?”
The old man shifted in his seat and pulled out an old flip phone. He opened it, pressed a button, and passed it to Ronan.
“I didn’t think they even made these phones anymore.”
“I only got the damn thing because Norah made me. Bossy one.”
Ronan copied the number into his contacts and closed the old phone. “Thanks again. I appreciate it.”
“If Jimmy doesn’t come up with anything good, let me know. I can see if any of the old guys are still kicking. I liked your dad. He was good people.”
Ronan nodded and stood. On his way out to his truck, he texted Brendan Jimmy’s number. He was so tired of all of the supposition. It was like everyone knew the Cahills were shady as shit and knew something about his dad, but no one had any kind of proof.
As he drove back home, he considered whether he could live with knowing the truth but not being able to prove it.