Page 92 of Road Trip
Maeve turned her head and narrowed her eyes. “What was I supposed to do? Just drop everything going on in my life and go hop in bed with a guy I’ve known less than a week?”
“Everything you’ve got going on?” Therese hooted. “You’ve got no job, you haven’t seriously dated anyone in at least two years…”
“What do you know about my dating life?” Maeve demanded.
“I know as much as I need to. Mom kept me updated. For instance, I know about that shitheel you met at your snooty-hooty literary conference who ghosted you after his first book got published. And I know about the guy before him, was his name Jerrod? The guy who strung you along for months before you discovered he was still married after his wife posted pics of them snorkeling in the Keys on her Facebook page. Shall I go on?”
“Stop. Enough,” Maeve said. She was humiliated that their mother had shared her dating misadventures with her sister.
“Look. We’ve got two more full days here to figure out this stuff about the portrait. Let’s keep our focus on that. It’s what we came to Ireland to do. It’s what Mom wanted. I don’t need to complicate my already complicated life with some crazy long-distance relationship.”
“It’s not crazy,” Therese said. “He’s a great guy. A great catch.”
“You know nothing about him. You’ve never even met the man.”
Therese wriggled her fingers, pantomiming typing. “Bet I know more than you do, little sis. I did my research. He’s not on social media much, but that distillery is. Did you know he’s not just an employee? He owns the damn thing. Also, I saw his photos. The dude is a smoke show. He’s perfect for you.”
“I think his brother Luke put up the money for the distillery. But also, I am not having this conversation with you,” Maeve said emphatically.
Therese put the empty cake box in the trash can. “Okay, then tell me about the cousin. Starr McGahee’s son. What did he say? Was he willing to talk about the robbery?”
“He wasn’t born until ’82, and the robbery happened in ’74. Starr got pregnant with him while she was in prison—by one of the guards.”
“Oh my God!”
“From what Jamie said, Starr was a real ’70s free spirit. He wasraised by his grandmother. But as he got older, she talked to him a little bit about her time as a revolutionary.”
“Okay, I know I keep harping on it, but you really need to write a book. You couldn’t make this shit up if you tried.”
“I asked him what Starr’s connection was to Tarrymore and how she knew about the art collection.”
Maeve related the most salient points of the conversation she’d had with Jamie Cooke.
“He wasn’t really sure what Starr’s connection was to Tarrymore, or how she found out about the Rossingtons’ art collection. But he did tell me Starr’s parents were rich. And socially prominent. He speculated that maybe a disgruntled servant who worked for the family talked to her, or maybe she met someone from Tarrymore from her society days. Maybe she even went to a party at the estate. Starr was even a deb, when she was eighteen or nineteen, and made her bow in London with the rest of the rich girls, and she told Jamie that she met up with someone from her old life while she was in Dublin.”
“How does a rich girl from London go from debutante to IRA terrorist?” Therese asked.
“She was studying chemistry at Oxford and she met a guy,” Maeve said.
“Ain’t that always the way? So what’s our plan for the rest of the week?”
“I think we go back to the library first thing tomorrow and keep looking for clues.”
CHAPTER 40
“Look at that,” Therese said, pointing at their rental car. It was Monday morning, and they’d gotten a late start.
“What?”
“The tires. They’re flat.”
Maeve walked around the car, shaking her head. “What the hell? All four tires flat? No way that’s an accident.”
“Maybe you ran over something? After we took Esme home on Saturday?”
“No. The car was fine. Maybe we wouldn’t have noticed if one tire was going flat—but all four? No way.”
“What do we do?” Therese asked. “Do they have Triple A in Ireland?”
