Disclaimer- Well Tim and Allan didn't get back to me on the gift idea. Maybe I should just try a hostile take over. Who's with me?
Author's Note- I love reading reviews, it really makes me do a Snoopy Dance to find one in my email. One thing that jtbwriter pointed out to me, not everyone knows the character Harry. Harry Macy is Garret's father who was introduced to us in 'For Harry with Love and Squalor', episode 19 from season one. He is a con man and has left Garret lacking some money or possessions more than once from what we've been told. I hope this explains just why Garret is not willing to believe any message from or about Harry, without some sort of proof.
"Brother?" Garret was now certain this was some joke of Harry's; the punch line would be when he tried to screw Garret out of more money.
"A shock to the system isn't it?" The woman smiled.
"Harry must be slipping; this scam is too far fetched to even be close to believable." Garret stood and turned to face her. "Tell him it didn't work."
"I'd love to tell him anything, but I'm trying to explain to you, he's gone missing. I haven't seen him for a week." The woman in front of him let the mask of indifferent cheerfulness slip a bit, concern creeping into her eyes.
"And he left with your money, right?" Garret scoffed. "Well don't look at me lady; I'm not paying his debts."
"He doesn't owe me a shilling. I've his cut and he wouldn't walk away from the split of a take, for all that, he might walk away from his children. I'm afraid he's gone and gotten himself into something he canna handle and will get his fool throat cut and it's my entire fault." Garret began to think that the tears in the woman's eyes were real.
"Why would you call me your brother?" Garret had to know.
"Because you are, well half brother anyway. Harry's my father." She looked at him. "Are you blind and daft, man? Can you not see the resemblance? Granted I've my mother's hair and eyes; her nose as well, bless the sweet Virgin for that favor. However, the rest of me is pure Macy. Can it be that long since you've seen our Aunt Laura?"
Garret stared at her for several moments as it slowly began to dawn on him that she did indeed look just like his father's younger sister.
"When did you last see him?" Garret asked torn between believing her and calling the cops.
"The day after the job in New York, a week ago. We were supposed to meet here two days later to split the take and he never showed. I should've known better than to take the job. Never, ever work with family, here endth the first lesson." The last sounded to Garret like a quote.
"So I take it you're a con artist just like Harry?"
"Run the ponzi? Not bloody likely. I happen to be a highly skilled professional." She appeared insulted at the suggestion. "I am a thief, not a grifter. It's why Harry needed me."
"A thief? Why am I not surprised that you'd be a thief, what's next an uncle who fixes horse races."
"Well never let it be said, you don't have an interesting family tree." Her eyes sparkled and her laugh was warm and infectious, but Garret remained cautious. He'd had one too many dealings with Harry Macy to let his guard down.
She sighed, understanding in her eyes. "Tch, it is a bit much for a man to take in all at once, isn't it." She stood and held out a hand to him. "Up with you then, escort me to the nearest pub and I'll buy you a drop of the best whiskey to wash it down with, mo brathair."
Garret sat back studying her through narrowed eyes.
"What wealth you have is safe from me, I'm not Harry and I don't think a coroner would have anything valuable enough to tempt me." Her next smile was all sympathy. "I only want a bit of your time to explain, if after you've heard me out, you're not inclined to assist, I'll leave you to your life, none the worse, save for an interesting tale and drop of whiskey. Surely you're Macy enough to want a wee taste, aren't you?"
As Garret stood and began to walk with her across the Common, she put her arm through his and strolled as though she had nothing but time. When they reached the nearest bar and sat, Garret finally spoke.
"What's your name?"
"Saints and Ministers of Grace, he speaks." Her laughing eyes invited him to share the joke and he found himself with a half smile. "Sweet Saint Ninian, he smiles too. Careful there, mo brathair, if you do that without a warm up, your face could crack." The laughter her eyes had been threatening poured forth from her lips like water over a streambed.
After a few moments, Garret couldn't help but join her, laughing at the absurdity as well as the gentle teasing. Finally, she put out her hand to shake his.
"Caitir Macy, at your service, but my friends call me Kate." Garret shook her hand.
"What is that word you keep using; 'mo brathair'?" She smiled at his pronunciation.
"Mo brathair is Gaelic, it means my brother. I can tell you've none of the Gaelic, but then the Macys have been in this country over long." Kate smiled.
"How did Harry end up with a daughter in Scotland?" Garret asked in spite of himself.
"My mother met him when she worked here, after they divorced, she took the wee article that was me back to Scotland and raised me there. I met Harry six years ago when business found me on this side of the pond. I'd known who my father was and when I discovered I'd be in the States for a while, I looked him up." Kate laughed. "Imagine my surprise to discover that they'd never really been married; seeing as he'd never divorced your mother."
"So what did your mother do, run numbers for the mob?"
"No, actually my mother was a maid in a hotel here. She never broke a law in her life; well save for marryin' a man already married. Neh, the larceny in my blood comes from Harry and my Uncle Fergus. You know, seeing we share Harry's blood, brother mine, are you sure there's no larceny in yours." She laughed at the look on his face. "Right, well on to the matter itself, I suppose you'd like to know what's going on. Shall I give you the full story or jump to the current problem?"
"Start with Harry and then you can tell me the rest." Garret said as the server walked up.
"Ah, there's the very girl we need. Bring us two glasses of Glen Mhor if you would." Kate smiled at the barmaid.
"Two glasses of what, Ma'am?" She asked.
"Glen Mhor whiskey?" She asked the puzzled girl, who shook her head. "Tch, well and it is an Irish town after all. Have you any Spey." The girl merely looked more confused.
"Well, you don't go to Ardsmuir for the sun and you don't go to America for the whiskey. Just bring us two glasses of your best scotch." Kate looked at Garret as the girl went to fill their order. "And how do you survive this barbarism, or are you one of the beer swilling masses who wouldn't know a good scotch from a poteen." She teased.
"Well if you want a good scotch, I wouldn't recommend Spey since you'll never get a 12 yr old bottle in a place like this and anything less is too raw." Garret tweaked her.
"Well, I suppose you are a Macy after all. A single malt man, are you?" She smiled.
"Always. Now about Harry."
"Right, Harry called me up three months ago and told me he needed my help. I met him in New York and he asked me to help him with his retirement fund. So I arranged a little fund raising and things didn't go exactly as planned."
"Translation, he roped you into a con with him."
Kate straightened in her chair and looked daggers at him. "I've told you, I'm not on the grift. I am a professional; I don't run cons. I worked out a heist for him and we pulled it." Her sweet, soft smile would have made one think she was speaking of a child. "Sweetest little piece of work you ever saw, five minutes in and out. Not an alarm tripped and no one the wiser. The next day I'm on my way to Boston to liquidate the assets and meet back up with Harry to split the take. That was supposed to be a week ago and there's been no sign, no word. I thought he might have gotten in touch with you."
"I haven't seen him in two years." Garret interrupted. "He hasn't contacted me."
"I know; I've followed you for three days. I think if you're an example of the straight and narrow, mo brathair, I'll stick to crime." She smiled. "Boring doesn't half begin to cover it. I'd spend my life asleep." Kate leaned forward. "If he contacts anyone here it will be you, since he's obviously not contacting me for whatever reason. The thing is I've a reason to believe that he can't contact me."
Garret quirked an eyebrow at her and gestured for her to continue. She drew in a deep breath. "Here's where the lesson comes in, I let Harry pick the target, with me having final approval. He wanted a nice haul so he picked a Faberge egg, one that once belonged to the Tsarina. The thing went at auction in '95 for 7.5 million, now with a good broker that's about three and a half today on the sly and I only deal with a good broker. So at a half mil for overhead, that left Harry one and a half and me with one and a half." Kate rested her chin in her hand with a sigh. "I'm ashamed to say I went for it. More fool me, the owner was Nicolai Petrechenko and probably the biggest Russian mob boss out side of Moscow and now he's looking for his property."
"You have the Russian mob on your tail and you want me to help? You are as crazy as Harry." Garret squared his shoulders. "I won't do it. Why don't you go to the police?"
Her laughter bubbled over again. "Oh, that would be rich. 'Hello officer, I need protection from the Russian mob. Why, you ask? Well, see, I'm Mary MacGregor, I took a little something of theirs and now they'd like it back.' The minute they run my prints through Interpol, I'm a guest in Ardsmuir at her Majesty's pleasure. I think not."
"I thought you said your name was Kate Macy?" Garret said.
"It is legally, but you don't think I'd use my real name for work now, do you?" She smiled.
"I can see how that might lead to a problem or two." Garret was beginning to like this woman in spite of himself. "So Harry's in trouble and I'm supposed to help how?"
"Well, knowing the local constabulary as you do, I'd hoped you could alert them to a missing person, without the mention of my name of course and tell them you suspect foul play might be involved." Kate's eyes held a note of pleading.
"What about you? Isn't this Petrechenko looking for you too?" Garret asked.
"Unlikely, since he only saw Harry, he was the distraction." Kate sighed, "I shouldn't have let him be involved, but he wanted a last spin before retiring. If I'd known the bloody thing belong to a right bastard like Petrechenko, I have never gone through with the job."
"And how do I know you're my half sister." Garret demanded.
"Ah, there the trouble, you don't. Not unless you want to put those fancy machines in your lab to work on testing my blood and I'm betting you'd rather not have me there more than I've already been."
"You've been to the morgue? When?" Garret's eyebrow shot up.
"Well you don't think the note that brought you out appeared by magic do you? I left it on your desk five minutes after I watched you leave for lunch." Kate's eyes danced gleefully.
Garret stood and dropped some money on the table. "Come on."
"To where are we going?" Kate startled by the abrupt decision.
"The morgue, I'm not doing anything until I know if you're telling the truth about Harry being your father." Garret stopped as he saw her hesitation. "Afraid of the results?"
"No, I just despise needles, but if it takes that to convince you, then let's be at it." She squared her shoulders and strode out the door in front of him.
A/N- Caitir is an actual Scottish Gaelic name, pronounced Kah tcheer. In addition, 'mo brathair' is Scottish Gaelic meaning my brother. If Kate uses a Gaelic word or phrase, I promise you it will be authentic. The seeming miss spelling are an attempt to replicate the Scottish burr. You people know what to do now, don't you?