“Yes and no. The leadership in Ireland has backed off the violence, but there are still some Irish-Americans who have had a hard time letting go. Things were very heated in the eighties, when Nolan was living here. Problem is, we don’t know where he stands now. It could be that he’s one of the ones who don’t want to give up the fight.”
“Isn’t it kind of a stretch, to connect Irish extremists with an accident at a small Philadelphia museum?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. In fact, probably. But the connection is there-a straight line from Arabella to a subversive group with Philadelphia ties. We have to at least consider it. That’s our job.”
“So you’re on the case?” This time I smiled.
“Looks like it.” He smiled back.
This was encouraging, except for one troubling fact. “Why are you telling me this?”
“For one thing, I’m telling you that I’m involved, so you don’t trip over me.”
“But I’m not involved!”
“But you know Arabella.”
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“Of course. In fact, we already have. She says she hasn’t heard from her ex in years, and that’s fine with her. I gather their parting was less than amicable.”
“He walked away and left her to pick up the pieces, including financially.” I spoke before I had time to think.
James was quick to react. “And how do you know this?”
“Marty.”
He sighed again. “Of course my cousin would stick her nose in. Why am I not surprised?”
“Hey, all she knew about was Arabella’s side. She didn’t say anything about Irish radicals.”
“I suppose not. If it’s not a Philadelphia family, she’s not interested.”
“Do you doubt what Arabella told you? About a clean break?”
“I have no reason to doubt it,” James said carefully. “But her profile at the place might have planted an idea in our boy Nolan’s head.”
“Why? He wants to heat things up again for the IRA? Why here, why now? Or he’s got a long-standing grudge against Arabella? Marty said he dumped her, rather than the other way around. He envies her success? It all seems kind of far-fetched. Wait-are there hedgehogs in Ireland? Maybe he can’t stand to see them exploited.”
James did his best to suppress a smile but finally gave up the effort. “I hadn’t considered the hedgehog angle, but I’ll take it under advisement.”
“You do that. Or, wait-maybe he had an affair with Hadley, years ago, and gave her the whole hedgehog idea, and she wouldn’t give him credit and now he’s taking revenge.”
James shook his head. “Nell, I know stranger things have happened, and we have to look at all sides of this, but remember that someone died at Let’s Play.”
My laughter drained away quickly. “I know, and I don’t take that lightly. But the whole thing seems so odd. Why go after a beloved and harmless institution?”
James sat back in his chair. “From a political perspective it makes sense. People expect attacks on major institutions, like government or the military. But hit them where they don’t expect it, go after the safe, ordinary places, and it really rattles them. It’s effective and simple.”
“I hadn’t looked at it like that, but you’re right. What a sad commentary. And if it had been a child who was injured or killed, it would have been so much worse.”
“Exactly.” We both fell silent for a few moments.
“Was there anything else?” I’m not sure what answer I hoped for.
“Not right now. Nell,” he began, fumbling for words, “I’d like to get together with you again, but can we get through this thing first?”
“The electric hedgehog case? All right. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, too-there’s an Executive Committee meeting tonight, the first since I took over, and I’m still looking for a registrar so we can get back to reviewing our collections.”
“I see you’ve filled a couple of positions.”
“How do you know that?”
“For one thing, a young male voice keeps answering your phone. And I assume, since you’re a competent fundraiser, that you made it a priority to fill your empty position ASAP?”
“Right on both counts, although it was the other way around. Shelby Carver is the new me-she came through a human resources ad. And she found Eric Marston-he’s the voice on the phone. So far, so good, although it’s only been a week or so. I’m more worried about filling the registrar’s position. That requires a different level of skills, and I’m not sure how far news of our recent troubles have spread.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, in this job market.”
“Marty said she’d help. I hope it’s not another relative, but I guess I can’t complain if she comes up with a good candidate. And I know she cares about the Society.”
“It’ ll all work out.” James stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the office.”
“So do I. Let me know if you learn anything else.”
“If I can.”
CHAPTER 18
Back at my desk, I dug into those reports again. Luckily most of the Executive Committee members were busy people, and they appreciated brevity. I hoped it would be a short meeting, and at least I had no catastrophes to report, no crises to resolve. Just business as usual, as we slid into the new calendar year.
I had just gotten my head back into report mode when Eric called out, “Ms. Heffernan is on the phone for you.”
“Thanks, Eric. I’ll pick up.” I lifted my handset. “Hi, Arabella. Is everything all right?”
“No new disasters, if that’s what you mean. Can you come out and play for a little while?”
For a moment I wondered if I’d heard her correctly. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m just so tired of dust and paint smells and noise, and I need to get out of my office because the pesky phone keeps ringing. How does lunch at the Reading Terminal Market sound?”
My mouth started watering immediately. I was torn, but I knew that the reports would still be sitting here after lunch. “Wonderful. Can I meet you there?”
“Noonish? I thought I’d walk over-I can really use the exercise. How about we meet at the corner by the tunnel?”
“Sounds good to me. See you then!” I’d walk over, too, which would let me feel less guilty about indulging in lunch. And maybe I could pick up some good stuff to take home with me. Even though it was only a few blocks away, I seldom went to the Market, and I missed it. I welcomed Arabella’s impromptu suggestion.
The Reading Terminal Market is one of Philadelphia’s most enduring institutions. When the Reading Railroad became the largest railway in the country in 1892, the Market opened next to the imposing bulk of the arched train shed. The above-ground trains are long gone, and the train shed is part of the Pennsylvania Convention Center now, but the Market continues to thrive, providing a magnificent array of vegetables, meats, fish, prepared food, and a whole lot more. There are quite a few Amish vendors, mixed in with Asian ones now, and a smattering of names that have been in place for decades. The place is almost always crowded, as both urban and suburban shoppers pass through on their way to and from home and work. Why did I always forget how much I loved the place?
Arabella was waiting on the corner when I crossed Market Street and scurried down the block. Despite the pale sunshine and brisk breeze, she looked warm and happy, her cheeks glowing like apples. “Hi, Nell!” she called out gaily as I approached. “I’m so glad you could make it! I know you must be busy.”
“I am, but I needed to get out and clear my head as much as you do. Where shall we eat?”
“Ooh, I love the Down Home Diner.”