“You know my man, Niklas?” Sedakis gestured toward the man.

“We've met before, right Nick?” Donovan offered the man his hand. They shook and then Donovan looked over at the woman, who had turned toward him upon hearing his voice. Donovan smiled broadly as he saw her face. She did the same.

“And this is...” Sedakis began.

Donovan interrupted him. “Hello again, Naomh.”

“Hello again, Donovan.” Naomh Walsh came forward to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

“You know each other?” Sedakis wondered.

“We have met before,” Naomh Walsh answered.

“Yup,” Donovan confirmed.

Sedakis looked from one to the other a few times. “Ms. Walsh helps my wife. Advises her on some matters. Society stuff and the like. Stuff she finds important. I never understood why it's all such a big deal.” He looked around and promptly marched toward the kitchen. He mumbled to himself as he walked away, “I'll just see how far she's gotten with the moussaka.”

Naomh waited a moment until he was out of the room, then she snuck a quick but deep kiss with Donovan. “Nice to see you again, she grinned at him. “By the way, don't say a thing about the wife. And no season remarks.”

Donovan frowned, not understanding. But he didn’t have time to ask her anything because Gregoris Sedakis came back moments later with his wife in tow. Donovan immediately understood what Naomh had meant.

The new Mrs. Sedakis, proudly introduced to him by Gregoris as Maria Sedakis, was still a teenager. Donovan thought she looked like she was sixteen, but understood immediately that she must be at least eighteen. She had a very young face, but was shaped well with a lean, athletic body not as full or as feminine as Naomh Walsh or Frankie Saunders. He reckoned she had probably started to develop later than the average teenage girl and would keep growing a bit into her early twenties.

“How old is she?” He whispered the question to Naomh.

“Nineteen next month.”

“What the fuck?”

“She snuck into a party at his country club two months ago and when he caught her and told her he'd tell on her, she... um...” Naomh tried to find a suitable euphemism.

It was Donovan who provided the words. “Entertained him?”

“Yeah, that's it. Divorced his wife a month later and married her a week after that.”

Donovan shook his head. “Jeesh.” It was more than slightly unscrupulous. He liked Sedakis, but he did not know what to make of this. “So what do you do for her?”

Naomh shrugged. “She was not born into the elite circles of New York’s blue bloods and I have to teach her how to behave so she won't embarrass Gregoris. And get her into the right places. Get her doing PR gigs, parties and stuff that Sedakis himself won't do, or would hesitate to do.”

Sedakis kissed his young wife full on the lips and she kissed him back. Then he slapped her bottom, sending her back to the kitchen. “Marvelous creature, isn't she?” he remarked proudly. He sounded almost like a breeder talking about his prize filly.

“Yeah, she's amazing.” Donovan joined in to sing Maria Sedakis' praises. And if he did not quite mean it at that moment, he did mean it later, after a generous portion of moussaka. The girl did know how to cook, which went a long way to explaining why Gregoris Sedakis had married her.

There was baklava after, which again, was great. The girl, Maria, said little throughout the meal, but Donovan noticed she was keenly observing everything. She seemed eager to learn about everything they discussed at the table, from business to the local gossip. She seemed to know instinctively what she had to learn in order to be a good wife to Sedakis. Whether that would be enough remained to be seen.

After a while, Sedakis brought out the ouzo and they sat down with a few glasses. Papadopolis retired after that, heading home before the evening got out of hand. Donovan himself was determined not to drink too much, as he had to drive home. But as they sat down and got to talking, he concluded that would probably be a vain hope so he prepared himself for a long night.

“So I heard someone killed your janitor?” Sedakis stated at some point. It was a question and a statement rolled in one; not one nor the other. “Same thing as that man in my warehouse.”

Donovan nodded. “Yeah, it wasn't pretty.”

“Know anything yet?”

Donovan wondered for a moment whether he should tell Sedakis and Naomh Walsh about what Frankie Saunders had advised him on. His common sense told him he should be prudent, but as Sedakis poured him another shot his ability to listen to common sense soon passed. “Seems there's something about the siblings of these Lang brothers. But I only ever knew them to have a sister, Mara. She's dead, though. Car accident outside the court building the day her brother was convicted.”

Naomh intuitively felt the question come up. It felt like one of those questions that had to be asked and answered. “Who was driving?”

Donovan looked down. “I was.” He kept looking at his feet, even as Naomh's hand touched his knee. “She was only 17 or so, still in school I think. Her brothers turned to crime, sacrificed, to get her through some expensive boarding school.” He sighed. “Poor Mara Lang. I couldn't do anything about it, I know that. But it still feels like I might have been able to save her.”

“I knew a Mara Lang.” It was the first time Maria Sedakis felt confident involving herself in the evening’s conversation. “She was a few years ahead of me in the boarding school I attended in Québec,” she remarked. “She died in a car accident. But she can’t be the same person. She had a sister in my class; I don’t remember anyone mentioning brothers.”

Donovan looked at her questioningly. “What was her name?” he asked curiously.

“I think Eva. But she disappeared from the school before her sister was killed. Nobody knew where she went.”

Donovan shook his head and drew his silver case of cigars from his inside pocket. He offered one to Sedakis. “Want one?”

Sedakis shook his head. “She's making me quit.”

Donovan shrugged as he saw Maria nod happily. “Suit yourself.”

As he stood on the terrace at the back of the house, smoking, he heard the door opening. It was Naomh. “You mind if I have a few puffs?” Donovan shook his head and offered her his cigar. She breathed in a large amount of smoke and then suddenly kissed him, breathing the smoke back to him. “Share and share alike, eh,” she said as she broke away from him, running her hands over his cheeks. He looked distracted. “What are you thinking?” she demanded seriously.

“Eva Lang,” he said, staring into the New York woodlands; it was a beautiful part of the state and so close to the city. “She's got to be somewhere, and she's got to be connected to this. But how? And where is she?”

Naomh shrugged. “Well, she's not an A-lister here, or I would have known about it.”

“Suppose you're right,” Donovan said.

When the cigar was finished, they went back in, only to find that Gregoris Sedakis had already taken his wife to bed.

“I do feel a bit sorry for her,” Donovan remarked. “Laboring under that big fat belly.”

Naomh laughed. “Yeah, can't be easy.”

Donovan shrugged. “Ah well, I suppose it's time to head home anyway. “ He began to walk toward the door, but found himself staggering. He swore. The ouzo was obviously having more of an effect than he originally thought it would. But he was not going to let anyone notice that. He turned around and looked at Naomh. “You want a ride?”

Naomh shook her head and walked over to him, grabbing him by the arm. “You're not going anywhere,” she said as she pulled him toward the stairs. “You've had far too much ouzo to drive your flashy Bugatti.”

“Damn you,” Donovan grumbled at her.

Chapter Eight

Donovan woke up the next morning in a lavish bedroom in Sedakis' 18th century colonial home. He was thankful that he was not hungover. He looked around and noticed his clothes were folded on top of a chair in the corner. His boxers were the topmost and as soon as he saw them, he realized he was naked. He looked to the other side of the bed and saw Naomh Walsh there. He lifted the sheets and saw she was naked too, her smooth skin beckoned him to touch her. He surmised something must have happened, but he could not remember anything past cursing her as she forbade him from driving himself home.