Rock Point by Carla Neggers

Author:Carla Neggers [Neggers, Carla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459245877
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

It took most of the day to find a proper car to lease and fill out the paperwork, but Finian finally had a black BMW in his possession. He hadn’t taken a vow of poverty, but he wasn’t one to flaunt his wealth. Nevertheless, he’d driven a BMW in Ireland and appreciated its familiarity. The traffic even in Maine was daunting. He’d had a taste of Boston traffic when he’d arrived yesterday. A BMW seemed less of an indulgence under the circumstances.

He took it for a drive around southern Maine, checking out places like Orchard Beach, Wells, Kennebunkport and York before parking in front of a marina in Heron’s Cove, an attractive classic Maine village just down the coast from Rock Point. He got out, welcomed the cool breeze blowing off the water with the rising tide. There were more pleasure boats here. He remembered a time when he’d been fascinated by yachts.

No more.

He walked up a street lined with pretty shops and large residences, most with front porches that looked out on the Atlantic. He saw porch swings, hammocks, wicker chairs, most empty despite the perfect June afternoon. Heron’s Cove reminded him of reruns of Murder, She Wrote, but he supposed Jessica Fletcher’s Cabot Cove was actually in California.

He sat on a bench on a narrow strip of grass between street and ocean, the tide crashing on rocks below him. Cormorants dove. Seagulls wheeled. Off in the distance, he heard the laughter of children.

He dug out his phone and called Declan. “I had a lobster roll for lunch and the sun is shining. How is Ireland?”

“Raining,” Declan said.

Finian knew it wasn’t true. He had a weather app with Killarney listed among his “favorites.” He stretched out his legs, barely aware he was in a black suit while passersby were in shorts and T-shirts. “I miss Ireland. It’s funny how life pieces itself together, isn’t it? The threads all connecting as they should.”

“Or not, as the case may be. Sean Murphy rang me.”

“Ah.”

“He asked if I could help him find a contract worker, probably a painter or a carpenter. I couldn’t think of anyone off the top of my head. I’m checking the records, but it’s a needle in a haystack. I don’t even have a name for him.”

“Maybe you’re not the one who dealt with him.”

“It’s unlikely I would have. Sean is your friend. Do you know what’s going on, Fin?”

“Just do as Sean says and not one thing more.”

“Fin? Is this contract worker dangerous?”

“Sean Murphy’s looking for him, isn’t he?”

After he and Declan disconnected, Finian phoned Sean but his friend didn’t pick up. Finian left a message for him to call as soon as he could.

Humidity had built up through the day, but Finian welcomed it as he took a scenic coastal road back to Rock Point. It was rougher than Heron’s Cove. He parked in front of the rectory and got out into the shade of what he’d already learned was a sugar maple.

He tried to reach Sean once again but got his voice mail.

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