ChapterTwenty-Seven
Ronan didn’t want to go to the Rose to pay his respects. He was pissed that Alan died before he could get the information he was sure Alan had been hiding. He couldn’t even say that he truly respected the man. But to not show up would raise red flags, so he showered and changed and headed to the Rose. At least he’d be able to see Chloe.
She had a way of making him feel better even when he didn’t expect it.
The bar was already crammed when he got there. Good. Then it would be unlikely anyone would notice if he ducked out. It didn’t look as though the Cahill family was in attendance, not that Ronan knew any of them except Danny. Brendan said he’d be here, but Ronan wasn’t sure he’d spot his brother in the crowd. He sat on a stool at the bar.
He saw Johnny, the bartender who drove Chloe home, checking him out. He waved to him, hoping to convey there were no hard feelings. “Can I get a beer?”
“Sure.” As Johnny poured the drink, he said, “Chloe mentioned you guys got things straightened out. I’m glad. She seems happy with you.”
“Me, too.” He took a sip of his beer. “Is she around?”
“She’s running crazy right now. The turnout is even bigger than she expected and she planned for a lot. Give her a minute and I’m sure she’ll be flying by.” Johnny wiped down the bar. “We’re not serving the full menu, but there are appetizers in the back room if you’re hungry.”
“Danny Cahill here?”
“I haven’t seen him. But that doesn’t mean much.” His attention was pulled away at the end of the bar.
Ronan picked up his glass and walked the perimeter of the bar, taking in the crowd. How many of these people knew Alan? Or any of the Cahills for that matter? He saw a few of the guys from work huddled together at a table, and he nodded a greeting. As he neared the Cahills’ usual table, he saw the shrine for Alan. The picture was old, maybe from a campaign poster. Certainly not the octogenarian he was.
Lingering against the back wall near the booth was Brendan. Ronan edged over to his brother. “Why did you think coming here was a good idea?”
“I want to see who shows.”
“A lot of nobodies. This is open to the public so anyone who ever voted for the man might show.”
“But so will the people who were once close to him. The people like Nolan who aren’t close enough anymore to go to the actual funeral. Those are the people I want to see. The ones who know where to find the skeletons.”
Ronan flinched at the statement. Even though he knew Brendan was speaking figuratively, they both knew Michael Doyle was dead. His would be among the skeletons somewhere. He took a drink of his beer and that was when he noticed Brendan raising his phone and snapping a picture.
“What are you doing?”
“You think I know who all these people are? I’m taking their pictures to figure it out later.”
“Have you seen Chloe?”
“Yeah. She’s been through here a few times. Checking on food. Making sure the customers are happy. Doing her thing.”
Moments later, the crowd shifted. Not physically, but the tension and attention in the room changed. Then Danny Cahill pushed his way through, shaking hands and accepting condolences. He looked tired. When he got to the table, he paused, staring at the photo of his father. The man shrank, his shoulders hunched in grief.
Part of Ronan felt sorry for him, but then he remembered that he never really got the chance to grieve his own father. He’d spent so much time waiting and hoping his father would come back that by the time he realized Michael wasn’t returning, Ronan had just been angry.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever left that phase.
Danny straightened and turned to the crowd in the room. “Thank you all for coming. My mother isn’t able to be here tonight. She’s too distraught, but I wanted to let you know that your showing up means a lot to the Cahill family. My father loved this city and its people. And knowing that so many Cahill Construction employees are here would flatter him. He built the business from the ground up and managed to touch a lot of lives.”
“Not always in a good way,” Brendan mumbled.
“Leave the man his grief. He’s not his father.”
“Yeah, his father would be a prick to your face. Danny is a snake in the weeds.”
Ronan paused, wondering what Brendan meant.
Danny continued, “My father left a great legacy behind him, a strong belief that this city was the best. As you probably know, I’m following my father’s path in running for office. It feels even more right to do so now. To finish the work he started years ago.” Turning to his father’s portrait, he raised a glass. “Here’s to you, Dad.”
Everyone followed suit and Danny disappeared back into the crowd, glad-handing as if he wasn’t getting ready to bury his father. Damn politicians.
As conversations around them picked back up, Ronan asked Brendan, “What’d you mean about Danny being a snake?”
“There’s more than we’ve seen in reports and incidents about Danny. When Alan said he’d been cleaning up after Danny his whole life, he wasn’t kidding. There’s some other stuff, but now’s not the time.”
Ronan wanted to press, but he knew Brendan wouldn’t talk now. There were a lot of ears all around and they didn’t know which ones were loyal to Cahill. He drained his glass as he digested what his brother said. From all accounts, Danny was hopped up on drugs back then, so Alan hadn’t let him be part of anything. Not the construction company and certainly not his campaign.
But he also straightened out and got clean right after their dad went missing.
He turned to his brother.
“So Danny knows more about our father than we gave him credit for. Whether he was there, or Alan filled him in later. He knows something.” Brendan raised his phone and snapped a few more photos. “He’s nervous. Even now with his dad’s death, his focus is on covering up.”
Ronan opened his mouth, but Chloe finally dashed by. As she passed, she didn’t notice him, so he called out her name. She turned, looking a little harried, but smiled when she saw it was him. That little hitch, the curve of her lips at seeing him, was enough to make him want to scoop her up and carry her home. She held up a single finger to let him know she’d be back.
“I don’t know how you lucked out with that one.”