When Merrigan picked up, she told her that she was putting her on speaker.
“How are you feeling?” Merrigan asked Quinn.
“Good days and bad, but I think the bad ones are coming less often.”
“Me too.”
Quinn put her finger in front of her lips when Ava looked at her with wide eyes.
“Um, Mer, Ava and Aine just walked in.”
“Oh, hello, ladies. How are you both?”
Both said they were fine and asked the same of her.
“You probably just figured out that I’m pregnant. So my answer is, I’m great, but I’m starting to think I’m too old for this. I should leave the next batch of wee ones to the three of you to bring into the world.”
“We, uh, called to ask you about Striker,” said Quinn, getting right to the point.
“Hold on a moment,” Merrigan whispered. “Okay, I’m outside. What about Striker? Who, just so you know, is sitting in my kitchen.”
Aine’s eyes opened as wide as Ava’s had a minute ago. “Hang up,” she mouthed, making a cutting motion with her hand.
“We don’t want to keep you from your guest. We’ll talk later,” said Quinn.
“Oh no, you don’t. What insider information are you trying to get on Griff?”
“Merrigan, this is Aine speaking. I’m so sorry about this. Please forget we called.”
“You have five seconds to start talking. If you don’t, I’ll go in and tell Griff you’re on the phone.”
Quinn laughed and shook her head. “I should’ve warned you that you never say ‘I’ll tell you later,’ to Merrigan. She’ll pull it out of you if you do.”
Aine looked between Ava and Quinn, who were obviously waiting for her to say something.
“I was wondering if you knew anything about his sister’s death,” she said, clearing her throat.
“No. I don’t,” Merrigan answered. Her voice had
gone from a teasing lilt to sad.
“I’m sorry,” Aine said again. “That was the only thing we wanted to know.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
Before Aine could ask her not to, Quinn held up her phone for them to see that Merrigan had ended the call.
“Oh, God,” she wailed, putting her head in her hands. “What have I done? She’s going to tell Striker I was asking about him.”
“She won’t,” said Quinn. “She isn’t like that.”
Aine wrapped her arms around her stomach.
“Are you okay?” asked Quinn.
“She thinks she has an ulcer.”
“You’re very pale.”