Page 94 of Beautiful Lies
“I know a lot more than people give me credit for.”
“Did you tell those four thugs where to find me?” I asked, watching her face. I doubted she’d give anything away, but even the best liars had tells.
“The ones who broke into your house?”
“They didn’t break in. They came after me.”
She shook her head. “I never told anyone about you. At first, I was mortified that I’d gotten it so wrong. I’m usually good at reading people. I was intrigued so I might have stalked you a few times.” She shrugged. “But I’m my father’s daughter so I know when to keep my mouth shut.” She held my gaze, and I knew she was telling the truth.
To say I trusted her was a stretch but I believed her.
“Did my father have something to do with that?” she asked.
“He had everything to do with that.” What the hell did I have to lose? I told her the story I’d told Ava earlier. After keeping it to myself for so long, I was singing like a canary now.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” she said when I finished talking. “My father’s a prick. You must have gotten too close to something he didn’t want you to see.”
“I tried to get too close to you and your mother.”
She shook her head. “He wouldn’t have set you up for that. It had to be something more. My father’s moves are calculated. He doesn’t let his emotions rule his business and he keeps his life compartmentalized. He never lets his business dealings seep into his family life.” She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes narrowed, thinking. “Miami is a big city. If all you knew was his name, how did you find him?”
I considered her question. When I’d gotten to Miami, it had taken a few days to find Shaughnessy. I was beginning to think it was a wild goose chase and that Seamus had been too drunk to know what he’d been talking about. He had let it slip that he and Ronan had grown up together in Hell’s Kitchen so I’d gone there first, trying to find out as much as I could before I headed to Miami. People either didn’t remember him or weren’t talking, although I did find out that he used to run a nightclub so that’s where I started in Miami. Gradually, my quest had changed. Instead of a son looking to reunite with his long-lost mother, I’d felt more like a private investigator trying to dig up dirt on the elusive Ronan Shaughnessy. There had been no public records, not of real estate transactions, his marriage, nothing. When you wanted information, you sought out people with loose lips. Drunks. Addicts. People looking for quick cash to fund their habits. Ironic that I was a recovering addict, fresh out of rehab, yet I got my information from a junkie.
“It’s gonna cost ya.”
“You haven’t told me anything yet.” I dangled the hundred-dollar bill in front of him.
“That’s not gonna buy jack shit.”
I pocketed the money and walked away, knowing he’d chase after me. He did. At the time, I’d taken pride in the fact that I’d never sold information for a fix. Asshole.
“Okay. Okay. He runs a club in South Beach.”
“What’s the name of the club?”
“I don’t know.” He scratched his head. “Collins Avenue. Just off Twenty-Second? Twenty-First, maybe. It’s a private club. Like a grown-up Disneyworld for rich assholes who can get whatever they want. But that ain’t how he makes his money.”
“What’s he involved in?” I sweetened the offer with another fifty bucks to keep the guy talking. He licked his lips, thinking of what the money could buy him. A grown-up Disneyworld.
“You name it, he’s involved in it. But nobody’s gonna do nothing about it. He’s got important people in his pocket and they’re all making a profit off the back of it.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, his eyes darting around, paranoid we’d be overheard even though I didn’t see anyone else on the beach. He was close enough that I could smell the stench of his breath as he talked. “Word on the street is that he got into bed with a drug and arms dealer. Took a cut of the profits in exchange for security. The dealer screwed him out of some money.” He held up his hands. “You didn’t hear nothing from me.”
“What’s the dealer’s name?”
He shook his head and pressed his lips together. “Can’t say. Why you so interested in Shaughnessy? His daughter screw you over or something?” He cackled, baring his yellow teeth.
“He has a daughter?” I asked, stunned. “How old is she? What’s her name?”
His eyes shifted to the left. “I’m done talking. Gimme the money.”
I handed him the money and a pack of cinnamon gum which he tossed into the sand before he stumbled away in search of his next fix. I took deep breaths, trying to fight off the cravings, and lit a cigarette. My new addiction.
“I asked around,” I said. That junkie hadn’t been the only one to give me information.
“That’s one way to get yourself in trouble,” Keira said.
She was right. Word on the street traveled, and even in big cities, the circles were small.
“What are we going to do about it?” she asked.
