more than yours.”
“Trying to stir up trouble?”
“Jealousy can be a bothersome thing, that’s all.”
“I’m not jealous of Aleister Crowe’s attentiveness to Molly. If there’s one thing that’s a constant in our world, it’s my relationship with my wife.” Michael smiled. “The sun will set in the east, Inspector, before I ever doubt Molly.”
“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Graham.” Paddington echoed Michael’s smile a little. “I’ve seen that for myself, and I’m quite certain Mrs. Graham would say the same. But you are not so trusting of Crowe.”
Michael shrugged. “I didn’t like him before he shot Rohan.”
“Rohan Wallace was guilty of breaking and entering into the man’s house.”
“Rohan wasn’t armed.”
“As you’ve seen yourself over these past few months, it doesn’t take an armed man to kill a person. Just a very determined one. But you’re missing the point, Mr. Graham. A few points, actually.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
Paddington smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.” He cleared his throat. “Nothing in Mr. Wallace’s background suggests that he had the necessary skills to circumvent the state-of-the-art security around Crowe’s Nest.”
Michael was actually glad to hear the inspector say that.
“I hadn’t missed that little fact, Mr. Graham. You and your missus’s meddling aside, the Blackpool police department got along quite well before you decided to try your hand at investigatory work.”
“I never said you didn’t, Inspector.”
“So do you know what I’ve been looking for since Mr. Wallace was shot?”
Michael realized the answer almost immediately. “Someone who could help Rohan break into Crowe’s Nest.”
“Exactly.” Paddington nodded at the group gathered around the body. “Now I have a man, a desperate man by your account, that wished to speak to Mr. Wallace. He’s not in the hospital more than a few minutes and he manages to get himself shot. By an expert marksman.”
Immediately the pieces fell together in Michael’s mind and he chided himself for not seeing it earlier. “An expert marksman. And Rohan needed an expert cracksman to get into Crowe’s Nest. You think that once you find out who the dead man truly is, it’ll lead you to who the marksman is.”
Paddington touched his nose and smiled. “At least, Mr. Graham, I’ll have an idea of where to look. Experts tend to know each other.”
“If they were friends, why did the shooter kill Grady Dunkirk, or whatever his name turns out to be?”
“You should be able to figure that one out.”
“To keep Dunkirk from spilling what he knew?” Paddington nodded.
“But what?”
“Who he was working for.” Paddington shrugged. “Maybe something went missing that night and we haven’t heard about it. Maybe someone decided the pie shouldn’t be split so many ways. From the sounds of things, you were going to catch Dunkirk. Somebody didn’t want him caught.”
“Then why allow him to talk to Rohan?”
“Maybe his pallies didn’t. Or maybe they made him talk to Rohan. Either way, Dunkirk is dead because of his friends.”
“Awfully cold-blooded, don’t you think?”
“I do. But that’s the kind of work they were in. I have to ask myself, though, how did Rohan Wallace know men such as this?” Paddington looked at Michael. “That was the grandmother with Mrs. Graham, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I think I’d like to have a word with her.”
CHAPTER SIX
MOLLY SAT IN THE CORNER of Rohan Wallace’s hospital room and watched Nanny Myrie softly stroke her grandson’s forehead. Rohan didn’t respond; the machines kept beeping. Molly hated the helpless feeling that filled her. She also felt intrusive, so she turned her attention to the window.
That wasn’t much better. The police cars and the crime-scene tape instantly claimed her attention. She sighed and looked down at the cell phone in her hands. Michael, where are you?
“Do you know my grandson well, Molly?”
“Not terribly. He was more Michael’s friend than mine. They did all sorts of things together.”
“Like what?”
“Sports, mostly. Hiking. Bicycling. Some fishing. Sailing. Those aren’t my types of activities. I join Michael occasionally, but he’s a much more devoted participant than I am. Rohan gave—gives—him someone to hang with.”
“I’m certain he does. Sounds like your man hasn’t quite lost touch with the boy he was.”
“No, and I don’t think he ever will.”
“Men should never completely step away from being boys. When they do, they lose the capacity to dream dreams that can change their worlds and the worlds of all those around them.” Nanny finally took the seat beside the bed. She laced her fingers through Rohan’s without disturbing the medical equipment.
“If they at least learned to pick up after themselves, it would be an improvement.”
Despite the heavy emotions trapped in the room, Nanny chuckled. “Ah, but that is part of what we must put up with in order to keep them as they are. If they were perfect, we’d have nothing to do.”
For a moment, the silence stretched. “What was Rohan like as a child, Nanny?”
The old woman shook her head. “Oh, he was quite a handful, this one was. Always into something. I ended up raising him.”
“He mentioned that several times. He loves you very much.”
“I know. That didn’t stop him from walking his own way, though. Too much of his mother in him for that.” Nanny smiled. “That’s partly my fault, of course. I was never quite the stay-at-home mother my daughter wanted.”
“I can see how flying floatplanes and helicopters could have gotten in the way of that.”
“They did. And there were any number of other adventures. I took her with me on several of them, and I think that was the root of the wanderlust that made her leave us and go out to see the world. She was a Peace Corps volunteer. Worked with Doctors Without Borders. You’ve heard of them.”
“Yes. Medical experts that work in impoverished regions.”
“Those people see a lot of bad things in the world. Sickness. War. Famine. Evil things. I lost her in West Africa. A fever
