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“That might be part of it, but there’s more to it. You see, when Rohan was a child, I told him stories of the heritage we lost in West Africa during the slaving years. So many families got torn apart, and so much was lost. People were displaced, Molly, but heritage and culture?” Nanny shook her head. “That was all scattered and forgotten. I told Rohan that it was a wish of mine to see something of our family revealed. Our history. That was what he was doing here. And if he went to Aleister Crowe’s home, it was because he believed that family has some of that history.”
AFTER HE’D CONVINCED Paddington to talk with Nanny Myrie later, Michael left the inspector and went back into the hospital. He found Molly sitting with Nanny Myrie and Rohan. The old woman sat at her grandson’s side and softly hummed to herself. Before he could enter, Molly waved him off.
Molly got up. “Nanny?”
The old woman looked up at her.
“I’m going to step outside for a cup of tea. Would you like anything?”
“Water would be fine.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Nanny returned her attention to Rohan.
Outside the room, Molly took Michael by the arm. He kissed her forehead. “I guess I’m buying you a cup of tea.”
“You are.”
AT THE TEA SERVICE IN the waiting room, Molly looked at Michael. “You’re certain you’re all right?” She pulled at his shirt where the dead man’s blood—and his own, though he’d never tell her—had dried.
“I’m fine.” Michael poured tea and handed her a cup. “So what are we doing out here? I would have been glad to bring you a cup of tea.”
“I wanted to talk to you away from Nanny. That poor woman is already carrying enough of a burden without hearing about everything that happened out there.”
Michael sighed. “She’s going to end up hearing about it, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because Dunkirk was visiting Rohan shortly before he was shot. I chased him out of the building.” Michael quickly related the story and brought Molly up to speed.
“This man, Dunkirk—”
“Or whatever his name actually proves to be.”
“—was working at the marina?”
“Yes.”
“On one of the restoration projects that I brought to Blackpool?”
“It appears so.”
Molly withdrew and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Hey.” Michael took her hand in his. “That man didn’t come to Blackpool to work on the marina. He came to break into Crowe’s Nest. If he hadn’t had the renovation to use as a cover, he’d have found something else. This isn’t any fault of yours.”
“Doesn’t feel that way.”
“If Rohan hadn’t gone to Crowe’s Nest, probably with this man, and Nanny Myrie wasn’t sitting in that hospital room right now, would you feel this way?”
Molly let out a slow breath. “No. She’s a good woman, Michael. She’s been through a lot.”
“I understand. I like Rohan.” Michael shrugged and smiled. “We’re not going to give up on them. We’re going to help them. But we can’t do that by dwelling on the past.”
“The past seems to be where all this started. You said you never knew why Rohan came here?”
Michael shook his head. “When we first met he told me he was just passing through. Looking for work.”
“But he spent a lot of time with you.”
“Blame my magnetic personality.”
“Oh, I blame you for many things, Michael Graham. And you can, under the right conditions, have an inflated view of yourself.”
“Ouch. Did I tell you I was very nearly shot today?”
“You said the sniper deliberately missed you.” Molly fisted his shirt and pulled him close. She kissed him and the chemistry that bound them sizzled anew inside Michael’s body. She pulled away entirely too soon. “For which I’m eternally grateful. What I want you to focus on is that Rohan made sure he was with you, and the two of you were always working on those models of the town buildings.”
Michael thought about that, remembering how Rohan had been interested in his extracurricular project practically from the moment he’d heard about it. “Funny, I never noticed that before.”
“Because you were so caught up in figuring out how the model fit together. You become quite distracted when you’re trying to figure something out.”
“Possibly.”
“Definitely. The point is, you were blind to Rohan’s interest.”
Michael looked at her and realized there was something she wasn’t telling him. “You know why Rohan is here.”
“Nanny Myrie says that Rohan came here searching for possible artifacts that were taken during the slave trade. She thinks Rohan connected the artifacts to the Crowe family.”
“But how? Blackpool was long associated with smuggling, but evidence of slave trading was only found recently with the discovery of the Seaclipse. And there is no evidence tying the Crowe family to it.”
“Maybe we should ask Nanny.”
“Speaking of Nanny, Paddington would like to have a meeting with her, as well.” Michael glanced around. “I don’t really think this place would be good for that.”
“I won’t have her taken to the Blackpool police station and questioned there.”
“She could choose not to go.”
Molly gave him a look. “Do you really suppose Paddington is going to let that stop him?”
“No. Not with that dead man out there and still no answers about what’s going on.”
“I have a simple solution.”
“All ears, love.”
“Ask the inspector to dinner with us tonight. He can talk to Nanny there.”
“Under our watchful eye?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t think Paddington will have a problem with that. He’ll get a good meal thrown in.”
“I’ll call Iris and have her see about dinner arrangements.” Molly took out her mobile.
“You do that and I’ll go meet Rohan’s grandmother.” Michael turned and started to walk away.
“Wait.” Molly paid for one of the bottles of water from the vending machine and handed it over to Michael. “She wanted water.”
BACK AT ROHAN’S ROOM, Michael introduced himself and handed Nanny Myrie the bottled water.
“Thank you, Mr. Graham.”
“You’re welcome. Please, call me Michael.”
“Michael.” The old woman drank. “My grandson thinks a lot of you.”
“I wasn’t aware you’d been in touch.”
“An email from the internet café here and there. Not much. But he did mention the model you two were building of the town. He said you thought it was more than just a model.”
“Yes—it’s a puzzle of some sort. The buildings actually fit together to form a three-dimensional object, but I don’t know what its purpose is. Maybe it has to do with the tunnels underneath the buildings…. Rohan improved a lot of the buildings. If it hadn’t been for his skill, I don’t think I would’ve realized it was a puzzle.”
Someone cleared his voice.
Looking up, Michael saw Lockwood Nightingale standing in the doorway. The guard Paddington had assigned to the room had the solicitor out for the moment, but Nightingale didn’t seem as if he was going to be easily dissuaded.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“MRS. MYRIE, MY NAME IS Lockwood Nightingale. I need to have a word with you.”
Michael faced the man and took one step, enough to put himself between Nightingale and Rohan’s grandmother. “Perhaps this isn’t the right time.”
The solicitor stood his ground. “Mr. Graham, although I can see no reason for this to be any of your concern, perhaps you can suggest a better opportunity for a discussion between Mrs. Myrie and myself.”
“I can’t say.” Michael kept his voice calm but it was sheathed in steel. There was something about the man’s elitist attitude that rubbed him the wrong way. Getting money or being born into money just didn’t agree with some people. “But this is definitely not the time or the place.”
Nightingale peered past Michael at the old woman. “We could let Mrs. Myrie speak for herself.”
“About what?” Nanny stood and approached, but she didn’t step past Michael’s side.
“I represent Mr. Aleister Crowe, Mrs. Myrie.”
“The man that put my grandson in that bed?”
Nightingale froze for just a moment, but he didn’t bat an eye. “Quite.”
Nanny’s face turned hard. “Is Mr. Crowe too afraid to speak to me himself?”
“I advised him not to.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I thought it wouldn’t be prudent.”
“So you’re protecting him.”
Michael had to work to keep a grin off his face. Apparently Rohan’s grandmother didn’t take nonsense from slick solicitors.
“I wouldn’t say that I was protecting him, Mrs. Myrie.”
“Let me say it for you.” Nanny crossed her arms and regarded Nightingale as though he were something repugnant.
“There are legal matters that need attending to. I thought perhaps we might address them. I am in a position to ensure that Mr. Crowe is not interested in bringing criminal charges against your grandson in return for an agreement that your grandson won’t pursue a civil matter regarding the shooting.”
“Mr. Nightingale, was it?”
Nightingale nodded, and he preened just a little. Obviously he liked the sound of his own name.
“For the record, and you can quote me on this, there is nothing civil about shooting an unarmed man.” Nanny’s voice was as harsh as a whipcrack.
The burly policeman standing at the door chuckled, then covered the noise with a cough.
Nightingale glared at the man but didn’t say anything. He swiveled his attention back to Nanny with laser intensity. “Before you insist on making anything personal of this, you might want to consider your grandson’s future. If he comes out of that coma—”
“When he comes out of the coma.”
“—do you really want him spending the next several years in prison for breaking and entering?”
“Mr. Nightingale, I may look like an old woman to you, and my grandson may look like he’s on his deathbed, but that’s not the case. I’m not a stupid person and Rohan hasn’t stopped fighting. I know that Mr. Aleister Crowe can’t stop a criminal court from pressing charges if it wishes to, and my grandson’s fate was decided the moment he stepped into that house. You have nothing to offer me. You only want me to release your employer.”
Nightingale sniffed at that. “Aleister isn’t my employer. He’s my friend.”
“You’ll excuse me my rudeness due to my age, which you’ve already sought to take advantage of, but I know an employee when I see one. You work for people, Mr. Nightingale. No matter how much money you make and how much of a rich veneer you put on, that’s not going to change. You think like an employee.”
Nightingale flushed red.
“Please don’t contact me in the future, Mr. Nightingale. I will definitely be far less cordial than I am today. If you need to get in touch with me regarding legal matters, I’ll have my attorney contact you.”
“Do you have a solicitor?” Nightingale struggled to save face.
“I’m sure Mr. Graham can help me sort one out.”
Michael smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”
