Flawless by Heather Graham Page A

found himself heading for Finnegan’s on Broadway.
    Maybe he did know why. Kieran Finnegan intrigued him. She’d been helpful, pointing out body language he might not have noticed himself.
    But she’d also been nervous. Nervous just because she’d been in an FBI office?
    He doubted that.
    He had a feeling she was still hiding something. So what the hell was it?
    Had she somehow been in league with the thieves?
    He relived the previous night in his mind. It didn’t seem likely, though he couldn’t say it wasn’t possible.
    It certainly seemed like a coincidence that she’d even been there. She had a day job, and though he doubted she worked two jobs every day of her life, she’d been slated to work at the bar that night. He knew from the NYPD report he’d read through that she had her own apartment near St. Marks Place. Not right next to the pub, but not much of a subway trip, either. On a beautiful day and with a little time, she could even walk it easily enough.
    But if she was involved, what was his plan? Come right out and ask her what the hell she was acting so guilty about in the hope she would confess?
    She would hardly admit to being guilty, so that wouldn’t do anything except raise her suspicions and make it even harder for him to figure out what was going on.
    He would have to take a more indirect approach. Luckily for him, Finnegan’s was known for its food as well as its hospitality and selection of beers on tap.
    Couldn’t hurt to get some dinner.
    Old double wooden doors with frosted, etched glass faced Broadway, the sidewalk in front protected by a green-striped canopy overhead. Inside there were a number of booths to the right and a few more to the left, tables filling the rest of the room, and a long bar lined with taps at the rear. The place was busy with the dinner crowd and a number of cocktail-hour stragglers. He quickly saw that Kieran Finnegan was there, standing behind the bar and talking to a waitress. A tall man with dark red hair was also working behind the bar—one of her brothers, he was certain.
    He started to head that way, then chose a booth that gave him an unimpeded view of the bar instead. He watched the action for a while. Another tall man, this one with lighter red hair, was working the floor along with two young women.
    Before long one of the women headed to his table. He didn’t think that she was a Finnegan. She was petite and blonde, with lively blue eyes and a quick smile. “Hello. Welcome to Finnegan’s. What can I get you?”
    He was in an Irish pub, so he figured why not order Guinness on draft? He asked for a menu, as well.
    â€œSpecial tonight is fish-and-chips. Really good,” she told him.
    â€œThen forget the menu. I’ll have fish-and-chips.”
    She brought his beer quickly. He thanked her and sipped it as he continued to people watch. A group of young women seemed to be holding a baby shower. Business executives filled several of the tables. An older couple sat and ate a quiet dinner; the bar stools were mostly filled.
    When his food came, he thanked the waitress again. “So this is a family business, huh?” he asked.
    â€œYup, and the Finnegans are all working tonight. That’s Danny on the floor there, Declan and Kevin behind the bar—and Kieran is back there, too.”
    â€œAre you related, too?” he asked her.
    She laughed. “Actually, I’m the only one—well, besides the kitchen staff—who isn’t a Finnegan or almost one. That’s Mary Kathleen O’Shaunnessy over there,” she said, pointing. “She’s Declan’s fiancée. And I,” she told him brightly, “am Debbie Buenger, an old family friend. I went to school with Kevin and Kieran—who are twins, by the way. Anyhow, enjoy the fish. Our food is great, so if you haven’t been in here before, you’re in for a treat.”
    â€œI don’t think