Guardian Angels – Ambivalent - 8

With Mike leading the way, they stayed close to the buildings where it was minimally dryer, and arrived at the restaurant without getting too wet. After finding a table, they ordered coffee and sandwiches.

When the waitress left, Paddy rested his elbows on the table. "So, what is it about this Keefe guy that's got you worried?"

Mike took a moment to reply, apparently marshalling his thoughts. "All right. He showed up at the shelter earlier today looking for me. But he didn't know I was the one he was looking for."

"Why not?"

"He had two photos of me, taken when I was seventeen. I've changed a lot since then. I'm also using a different last name."

"Okay. I presume these pictures were taken before you ran away?"

"Yeah. I was, shall we say, plump, and I wore glasses. My hair was long since I was in my rebellious period." Mike smiled slightly. "Even I wouldn't recognize me now."

"So you lucked out on that score. Why is he looking for you?"

"He said my father hired him."

"You don't sound as if you believe that."

"I did at first, even though I found it strange that after four years my father would have decided he wanted"—he spread his hands—"a reconciliation I guess. We didn't part on the best of terms to put it mildly." 

"I'd say that's a given since you ran away. Why don't you believe that's why Keefe is searching for you?"

"I found out my father died a month ago, so how could he have hired Mr. Keefe?"

"Did you live here in the city when you ran?"

"Yeah, so it would be the obvious place for Mr. Keefe to start looking. Right?"

"Definitely."

"That's what I thought." Mike drummed the table with his fingertips. "Mr. Keefe implied he started his search here, and I got the feeling from the way he talked that he hadn't been here more than maybe a week at best. So, how the hell did my father, who's been dead a month, hire him?"

Paddy nodded. "A very good question. I can see why you're worried." They paused when the waitress returned with their food.  Then Paddy asked, "Can you think of anyone who might want to locate you?"

"Not really. Okay, maybe Amanda, she's my sister. But if that was the case why didn't Mr. Keefe just say so? Why claim it was my father who hired him?"

"A very good question." Paddy took a bite of his sandwich, deeming it not too bad. "What about other relatives?"

"My mother's dead. I have a couple of aunts and an uncle, and cousins, but again if they were looking for me, why the subterfuge? And if you say 'that's a good question' again…"

Paddy chuckled. "Well it is." Then he grinned, snapping his fingers. "Got it. You stand to inherit a million dollars in your father's will and they want to dispose of you, which would be hard since they don't know where you are."

Mike snorted. "My father was a blue-collar worker. The only way he'd have a million would be if he'd won the lottery. I think the obituary I read would have mentioned that. It was pretty detailed. Probably Amanda's doing. She had a thing for being honest to a fault with everything."

Sobering, Paddy said, "Then whoever is looking for you probably isn't part of your family. After you ran away did you, to be blunt, sell yourself to someone who might regret the encounter now and be afraid you could be a danger to him?"

For a moment it looked as if Mike was going to blow up. Then he sighed, shaking his head. "That's a legitimate question and no, I never went that route. I wasn't exactly a saint. I had a brief stint where I sold drugs for some guy I met. I didn't use them though," he hastily added. "I shoplifted sometimes, and spanged of course."