Unearthed

With a shrug, the man twirled his walking stick. “Contrary to your present belief, I don’t much care what you and your wife do in Blackpool. I only want to ensure that my family is protected.”

“Rohan didn’t go there that night to hurt you.”

“Then maybe you’d care to tell me why that man was sneaking through my house? How he managed to steal past a very sophisticated security system?”

Michael didn’t have an answer.

Crowe nodded arrogantly. “I thought as much.” He adjusted the tea rose in his lapel, then started to walk out of the room. “Take care, Michael. These lost causes you and your wife have a habit of chasing after might one day turn around and bite you.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE BRIGHT YELLOW FLOATPLANE bobbed in the air as it fought turbulence. Getting to Blackpool was difficult by road, and the floatplane service was the quickest mode of transportation.

Shading her eyes even though she wore sunglasses, Molly Graham watched the plane’s descent. She stood at the end of the pier that thrust out into the Blackpool harbor. Noise from all the diesel-and petrol-powered engines created a disturbing cacophony that battered her with sonic fists. The salt air stung as it filled her nostrils.

She wore a casual business suit—a dove-gray jacket and skirt with a simple white button-down and a gray herringbone fedora with a white band. She also wore sensible dark gray strappy ankle boots with wide four-inch heels that wouldn’t get caught in the planks of the pier. Her handbag matched the shoes. The wind shifted and her dark auburn hair danced across her shoulders.

Irwin Jaeger stood at Molly’s side. He was the Grahams’ houseman, one of the two full-time employees that came with the manor house she and Michael had purchased. Irwin was thin and in his early seventies and he wore his black livery like a suit of armor. His bushy mustache twitched a little. “Appears to be a bit of a draft up there.”

Molly surveyed the water. Chop stirred the surface. “I’m beginning to think we should have picked up Mrs. Myrie in London.”

“It was her wish to come with all due speed. If we had picked her up, she wouldn’t have arrived in Blackpool until late this evening.”

“I know.”

“And she did inquire about possible air transport here.”

“Yes, but a floatplane? At her age?”

Irwin stiffened slightly. “Might I suggest that age and infirmity don’t always go together? That there is nothing wrong with keeping longevity in close orbit with a sense of adventure?”

“Sorry.”

Irwin smiled at that and adjusted his thick bifocals. His muddy-brown eyes twinkled. “It could well be that, under other circumstances, Mrs. Myrie might consider flying in a floatplane to be one of her grandest adventures.”

Under other circumstances. Molly wished that the visit had been just that. She hadn’t gotten to know Rohan Wallace quite as well as Michael had, but she’d liked the man. Over the phone, his grandmother had come across as a darling woman with a large personality.

“Well, let’s hope she doesn’t have too much adventure.” As Molly refocused her attention on the plane, it began to circle, losing speed and altitude.

A moment later, the floatplane splashed into the harbor, hopped a few times, tilted crazily for an instant, then recovered. After a quick adjustment, the aircraft turned and sped toward the pier. The propeller cut the air and powered them forward, skipping over the chop.

When the floatplane neared the pier, Irwin picked up a mooring line. Even before the plane stopped moving forward, the cockpit door opened and a teenager with wild green hair shoved his head and shoulders out. Sunlight gleamed on his facial piercings. He wore a black T-shirt that had a skull in a top hat and black powder pistols crossed under its chin.

Molly groaned. “I can’t believe Solomon let Rory fly Mrs. Myrie out here. I specifically asked him to do it himself.”

On occasion, she and Michael had hired Solomon Crates to fly them into London. Generally that was only on days that Michael had to handle some emergency meeting at his video-game company.

Rory caught the line when Irwin threw it, then used both hands to haul the plane toward the pier. “Hallo, Mrs. G.” He waved enthusiastically.

“Hello, Rory. Where’s your dad?”

“Himself is back at home. Mother insisted on eating something different last night.” Rory grinned, looking every bit of twelve though Molly knew he was at least sixteen. “From all indications, the sushi didn’t agree with him. He couldn’t bring Mrs. Myrie over, so he asked me to.” He made a “tah-dah” gesture. “So here we are. And I gotta admit, she’s quite the flyer.”

“After that rough landing, I’ll be surprised if she ever considers flying again.” Molly tried to peer into the plane.

Rory put a finger to his lips and held up a hand. He smiled encouragingly. “I thought it was a good landing myself.” He waved for Molly to agree.

“Don’t make no excuses for me, young man,” came a voice from the plane. “That was one of the worst landings I’ve made in a while. But it’s been years since I had the chance to land a plane, so I thank you for the opportunity.”

Incredulous, Molly stared as Rory dropped down to the floating dock and reached back toward the door.

Nanny Myrie, Rohan’s grandmother, appeared in the doorway. She wasn’t exactly what Molly had imagined when she’d talked to the woman over the phone. She was around five feet tall and full figured. White hair with dark charcoal streaks framed a round, golden-brown face. She wore a colorful blue-and-green dress and a silver necklace.

“That landing wasn’t none of this boy’s fault.” Nanny reached down to take Rory’s hand.

“What are you talking about?” Rory gently helped the woman onto the dock. “That was a fantastic bit of flyin’, Mrs. M. Absolutely brill. I was never worried for a minute.”

“You flew the plane?” Molly gaped at the older woman.

Beside her, Irwin stifled a laugh, failed and had to cover it with a cough. “Pardon me. I had something in my throat.”

“I did fly the plane.” Nanny Myrie crossed the floating dock with ease and climbed the ladder to the pier without pause. “I haven’t had the opportunity in a long time. It brought back a lot of memories. Good memories.”

Irwin offered his hand and the woman took it. He helped her up to the pier and introduced himself.

“You’re Mrs. Graham?” The woman turned to Molly.

“I am. But please call me Molly.” With a smile, she shook her hand.

The older woman’s grip was firm and strong and rough with calluses. “Molly, you may call me Nanny.”

“Of course.”

“You’re American, correct?”

“Yes.”

“But your husband’s not? He didn’t sound American when I talked with him on the phone.”

“Right, Michael is British.”

“You’ll have to tell me how you two met sometime.” Nanny rubbed the back of Molly’s hand. “I’m sure there’s a story there.”

“There is.”

“I appreciate you and your husband flying me in.”

“It’s our pleasure.”