Page 302 of Mangled Memory
When the moment has gone on long enough and is entering awkward territory, Ren interjects. “So let’s assume those are the two men in black, there are four more behind them ready to complete the job. Are they grunts taking orders or are they decision makers who got tired and decided to do their own dirtywork? And can we find out if Seamus was held with them overnight?”
Liam’s thumbs fly over his phone as Ren continues. “If they weren’t the men, we have at least two sets of players to contend with. If they are, then who funds them? Who’s making the decisions? Grunts are replaceable. Take out one pawn, another pops up on the board. Take out the king, another head rarely rears up unless it is organized crime. If this is organized, they’re bad at it.”
“Dad was held in the same cell as the surviving men.” Liam looks up from his phone. “He was taken to the hospital late last night under guard after being severely beaten.”
“Which hospital?” my wife asks, before shaking her head. “Never mind. Not my problem anymore.”
All eyes turn to her. “You sure, Princess? He’s still your dad.”
“He’s nothing to me.” She looks from me to Cian. “He deserves none of my focus. Please go on, Li.”
Liam licks his lips and continues, “The four men were separated and interrogated. None spoke a word. All were found to have falsified visas.”
“So what does that mean?”
Liam’s eyes scan as he huffs and grunts. “It means dick. Each asked for their one call to be to the Laos Embassy in DC and requested diplomatic immunity.”
“Diplomatic immunity is for government officials,” Ren offers. “How the hell would foreign diplomats end up in Seamus’s business?”
All eyes turn to Cian who looks away before staring from person to person to person around the room. He holds up his index finger before rubbing his thumb against his index and middle fingers in the unmistakable gesture for money.
“How long?” That’s Liam.
I pull my phone from my pocket, open the notes app, slide the device across the island counter to Cian who intercepts it. He types, spins it around to Liam who announces, “Two and a half to three years ago.”
“All roads lead back to Mom’s diagnosis.” Ayla offers. “Sohe’s shit to us, but doing everything, legal or illegal, ethical or unethical, to help her.”
Cian lifts one shoulder at the same time Liam says, “Fuck if I care.”
“Which also means that Ren’s and Liam’s audits are best focused on that window of time,” she continues. “Later stuff is plausible, but that level of desperation would show up in decisions made, financial or otherwise during that window. Ci, can you get us into those records before the police get to them?”
The oldest Murphy offers a quick thumbs-up before dropping his head.
Liam slaps him on the shoulder. “Same options on the table—take over, start fresh, or sink in.”
Cian’s good eye slices to a slit. He grabs the phone, types, and slides the phone to Liam with force. He exits the room and closes the powder room door with a thud.
“I’m going to fix breakfast,” Ayla offers.
“Anything else we need to discuss?” I add.
“Just to say,” Ren starts. “Asking for diplomatic immunity is end game. That’s not for beating someone up and getting away with it, that’s for getting home when you want out. What if getting Seamus was the point?”
“Then why involve Ayla?” I ask.
“Because if they saw me with him before, they’d assume we had a good relationship. Perhaps they thought they could draw him out using me as bait.”
“It’s a good a theory as any right now,” I say. “And unless the Laotians tell the local authorities?—”
Liam scoffs.
“Or Seamus confesses?—”
Another scoff, this one in unison with Ren’s.
“Then we may never know. Ayla?” She looks up at me. “I’m going to grab the blender and the protein in the butler’s pantry. Let’s make sure Cian has some nutrition in him that doesn’t require chewing.”
“I’ve got it.” She pushes up, kisses the underside of my jaw,and moves out. Old Ayla never did that; new Ayla has never stopped.
