“Okay.”
“Mimi had them.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“I’m worried. Remember Mimi thought someone was going through her papers?”
“Yes.”
“What if... someone’s messed with my paperwork? Removed them. Or changed them?”
“If that’s the case, your doctor’s will have the originals.”
Iona’s face lit up. “Of course.” She slapped a hand over her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” She grinned. “I’m in the clear.” She squeezed her horse twice. “Giddyap.” She took off without another word. Tara let her mind clear once more as she relaxed into the ride.
They had just turned to go home when John Murphy pulled up alongside Eddie’s brown mare, reached over, and grabbed Eddie by the collar. The instructor, who was way ahead with Sheila and Iona, had her back to the ruckus. What on earth was he doing? It appeared as if he was trying to yank Eddie off the horse. The saddle slipped to the right, along with Eddie.
“Hey!” Tara yelled. She squeezed her legs around her horse and it obediently sped up. “Hands off.” Her voice was all but lost in the wind. John Murphy didn’t even throw a glance in her direction. The two men wrestled as their horses started to buck and whinny. Didn’t John realize Tara had a clear view of the assault? She wasn’t the only one to pick up speed; they were galloping now, hanging on to each other as their horses tried to flee. They were barreling down the path so quickly that if the instructor didn’t cop on, she would be ambushed from behind. Tara’s repeated yells were swallowed up. She was now riding parallel to the men, but had no idea how to slow down their horses.
“Easy, easy,” she yelled, not knowing what else to do.
“Other side,” John yelled. “You can try to pull him up.”
“What are you doing?”
“His saddle has a burr underneath it. I was only trying to help.”
Eddie lifted his head to lock eyes with Tara, sweat poured down his face. “Help.”
Tara maneuvered her horse to the other side, and Eddie extended his arm. This was probably a bad idea, like letting a drowning victim pull you down with them. Instead, she squeezed her horse with her legs, reached over and grabbed the reins of Eddie’s horse. “We’re all going to slow down together,” she yelled at John. “You got it?”
John nodded. She still had no idea if he was trying to pull something or genuinely trying to help Eddie, but all that mattered was stopping the horses before one or all of them were thrown to the ground. She took the reins of her horse in one hand and Eddie’s in the other, as she pulled back. “Whoa,” she said with as much authority as she could muster. It took two more tries before the horses slowed, jerking Eddie back slightly. She pulled them once more. “Whoa.” The horses stopped. Eddie continued to slide off; his head was nearly to the ground, the saddle halfway off. Eddie’s horse looked as if she wanted to rear back and knock him off the saddle. Eddie’s arm flailed as he tried to grab onto Tara and then her horse to keep himself from hitting the ground. Sweat poured down her face as she tried to keep her horse calm while Eddie clung to her.
Finally, Tina looped back, instructing John and Tara to a safer distance where they could dismount. The instructor was already off her horse, helping Eddie slide safely to the ground, saddle and all. He sat on the ground for a moment, then suddenly stood, stumbled, and lunged toward John, cursing and screaming.
“I saved you,” John said. “The saddle was slipping, I could see the horse was in pain.”
Tina cut through their noise with a reprimand. “My horses deserve calm voices,” she said. After a quick examination of the horse, and a carrot to calm him down, she turned to the two men. “He’s fine.”
“I swear I saw something like a burr, the saddle was slipping, I only tried to keep him upright,” John stuttered.
“You tried to kill me!” Eddie shouted.
“Are you joking me? I save your life and this is the tanks I get?”
“The two of you will walk my horses back, and if you raise your voices again, you’re going to have to deal with me.” Her voice was calm, and a smile never left her face. “If you respect my horses, they’ll respect you. As will I.”
“Yes, of course,” Eddie said.
“I’m sorry,” John said.
Tara wished Tina O’Neill would follow them home. She’d never seen John and Eddie so compliant, and it was a joy to behold. Something buzzed and danced in her pocket, making her jump. Her phone. She lifted it out. Private Caller. The guards. She’d forgotten to check in with them. A few hours on the job and she was already blowing it. She had a feeling she was going to have a lot of explaining to do.
* * *
It took a ton of convincing to prevent the guards from coming out to the stables to document the incident. Tara knew if they did, the group would never trust her again. She had to push back on Detective Gable, explaining she was trying to do as he asked, but he was going to have to trust her. After everyone had returned safely to the barn, Tina O’Neill presented Iona a lifetime membership to an exclusive riding academy, where Iona could ride all over Ireland, take all the lessons she wanted, and stay at nearby resorts.
Iona’s face was flushed with happiness. “This is perfect,” she said. “This has already healed me more than Veronica will ever know.”
“You don’t get the prize yet,” Elaine reminded her. “It still has to be turned over to Tara.”
“You can’t put a membership in a safe,” Iona said.
Elaine blushed, then crossed her arms over her chest. “You won’t be able to use the membership until you’re cleared.” She turned to Tina O’Neill. “Is that clear?”
Tina didn’t even blink. “I know you’re not talking to me with that tone.”
“Sorry,” Elaine said. “But we’re all under a strict gag order.”
“Sounds about right to me,” Tina said, flicking her gaze over the group. “Watch me. I’m going to show you how to remove the saddle, and then I’ll expect you to do the same. And don’t forget to thank that beautiful creature that let you ride on its back.” Someday, Tara was going to come back and get to know this woman. Tina demonstrated the saddle removal, and then stood back to see if they could manage it for themselves.
“You can’t even let me enjoy this for a minute, can you?” Iona said under her breath to Elaine as they all began the process of removing the saddle.
Elaine folded her arms. “I don’t think anybody should be enjoying anything when there have been two murders.”
Three, Tara thought. Counting Nancy Halligan. And they’re all connected. They must be. While the thought was on her mind, Tara texted the guards. We need to find out which one of our suspects knew Nancy Halligan.
Tara gave Tina O’Neill the card to Irish Revivals before they left. “I really enjoyed that. Thank you.”
Tina smiled and nodded. “You’re quite welcome.”
“I hope to come back sometime. But in the meantime, if you’re ever in Galway city, I’d love to share transplant stories.”
“Transplant stories.” Tina examined the card, then stuck it in her pocket. “That’ll require alcohol.”
Tara laughed. “That can be arranged.”
* * *
Andy, who was often chatty on the rides, quickly sensed the tension in the vehicle, and for once the drive back was silent. Tara met Andy’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He arched an eyebrow. She made a tell-you-later face. He nodded. He would be a good person to ask about Nancy Halligan. And Bartley. He sat in the passenger seat, and Tara stared at the back of his head as she mulled him over. He was always lurking about. His was the name Mimi had written on the mirror. Tara had tried to ask her why—but Mimi seemed to have directed the conversation back to her notebooks. Was that about Bartley? If anyone had secrets, Tara had a feeling it was that mountain of a man.
When they reached Ballynahinch Castle, the guests fled from the SUV and disappeared into the hote
l. Andy leaned against the car and lit a cigarette as Tara filled him in on the bewildering tussle between John and Eddie.
“He claims he saw something under the saddle but the instructor found nothing.”
“What did it look like to you?”
Tara sighed. “By the time I saw it, it looked as if John was trying to drag Eddie off the horse.”
“Want me to keep an eye on him?”
Tara gave a low laugh.
“What?”
“You’ve already been doing that,” Tara said. “Keeping an eye on all of them.”
His face reddened and then he laughed. “I am in the perfect position to observe them.”
“Well? What are your major observations so far?”
He frowned. “Quite honestly, I can make a case for each one of them being guilty. On the flip side, I could also argue their innocence.”
“What about Bartley?”
“Bartley?” The surprise was evident in his voice. “He’s as steady as they get.” Andy seemed prickly. Did he think she was going after loyal employees? Was he worried she would target him next?
“I just don’t know very much about him,” Tara said. “He’s a mystery to me.”
“He’s a man of few words, I’ll give you dat. But he’s no killer. I bet he wants to find out who it is more than any of us.”
It was a full-throated defense, and Tara decided to drop the subject of Bartley for now. “I believe Veronica relapsed that Friday evening, yet no one is talking about it.”
Andy hung his head. “You’re not wrong.”
“What do you know?”
He put out his cigarette. “It’s my fault.”
This was news. “How so?”
“I had a bottle of Powers in the glove compartment of the vehicle. The anniversary of me father’s death is coming up. It’s how I celebrate, with a toast to the old man with his favorite whiskey. I didn’t know Veronica would even think about opening the glove compartment or I wouldn’t have . . .” He let the sentence drop. “I checked for it that Friday evening, when it was clear I wouldn’t be driving anymore. Just to have a wee nip. The bottle was gone.”
“Are you sure it was her?” He was surrounded by valets. Anyone could have taken the whiskey bottle.
“Did I see her take it?” He shook his head. “No, I did not. But I heard the guards talking when they came to the hotel. Said an empty bottle of Powers—empty, mind you, and it was a full big bottle—was found in her room.”
Tara nodded. Veronica was definitely soused on that voicemail. She’d ask Gable if it was true they found the bottle in her room. “Do you have any idea what—or who—upset her so much that evening?”
He sighed. “I’d only be guessing.”
“It’s better than nothing.”
Andy looked around, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “I think she caught Eddie and Cassidy knocking boots.”
This was news. “Eddie and Cassidy?” Did he mean Elaine?
Andy nodded.
“Eddie—her ex-husband, and Cassidy—her niece?”
Another nod.
“My God.” That would have definitely set Veronica O’Farrell ablaze. It was a shocking piece of news, yet somehow it fit. It would have had to be something quite shattering. Especially if Veronica had still been in love with Eddie. Which Tara suspected she was. For all she knew, Eddie was the real reason for all of these amends. But instead, he beds her niece. The young bombshell. The current addict. Who once accused Veronica of being a murderer. Yes, Tara could see that setting Veronica off, making her relapse. A downward spiral leading to her letting her guard down...
“And no matter what Ms. O’Farrell said, she was not over Eddie. Not by a long shot. To see him with the younger niece of her first husband? I think it did her head in.” Andy had read her mind.
“Do you think it was a one-night stand or are they actually an item?” Tara asked, still trying to wrap her head around the revelation and what it could mean.
“I saw them shifting in the hallway Friday night. Just before the doors closed.”
“Shifting?”
“Sorry. Forgot you are a Yank. Kissing.”
That was slightly less scandalous than her interpretation, but it was still a shock. If Veronica had seen Eddie and Cassidy kissing Friday evening in the hallway—that was potentially explosive. “So just to be clear. You did not tell Veronica what you saw?”
“Are you mental? I know what happens to the messenger.” He winced as he realized it was a poor choice of words considering what happened to Veronica. “That’s the last I saw or heard anything. But I heard several of the guests say that they saw Veronica after that. She was langered.” Drunk as a skunk.
“Did you tell the guards?”
He nodded. “And they asked me to keep it to meself.”
Tara nodded. They had a habit of doing that. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a thing.”
Andy hung his head. “Maybe I should have done more. Maybe I should have checked on her.”
“You couldn’t have known. None of us could. Where was Bartley at this time?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t realize there would be any need to pay attention.”
“I’ve been wondering why he worked for her. What made him stick around?”
Andy shrugged. “I guess it’s true. People are more comfortable with the devil they know.”
. . . more comfortable with the devil they know. It was starting to look like Veronica O’Farrell knew a lot of them.
Chapter 28
Tara received a text from Andy early the next morning:
Bartley headed into Clifden
You’re taking him?
Wanted joe maxi instead of me
Joe maxi meant a taxi cab. That was interesting. Downtown Clifden was relatively small. Bartley was a tall, imposing figure. If he wanted privacy, he picked the wrong town. Andy agreed to drop Tara off close enough to downtown that she could walk, but far enough away that Bartley wouldn’t spot the SUV.
“Are you sure you want to be following him, like?” Andy said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “He could be dangerous.”
“I’ll keep my distance,” Tara said.
“Do you want me to circle back here at a certain time?”
“Not at all. Who knows, I may get lost in shops myself. I’ll get a cab home.”
He nodded. “Text if you get in trouble.”
“Will do.” She hesitated.
“Change your mind?”
“No. Remember that day you came into my shop because you had to use the jax?”
He stared straight ahead. “I do.”
“When I was in the art gallery in Clifden, the curator told me a very similar tale. It made me think the entire scenario had been scripted.”
He made eye contact with her and she saw a flicker of admiration. “It was.”
Even though she’d known it, it was still jarring to hear him say. “Why?”
“Veronica’s little test.”
“Meaning if I didn’t insist you come in to use the restroom?”
“Then you weren’t worthy.”
“Does that mean she had backups chosen if we failed the test?”
Andy tilted his head. “I never thought of that. I don’t know.”
“Probably not important. I was just curious.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Everyone did Veronica’s bidding.” She was a manipulator and a game player. And someone got sick of it. “Thanks for the ride.” She hopped out of the SUV. There was something she held back. She was going to plan a trip to Inishbofin Island. But maybe it was something she should do alone. She had to take a ferry to the island. Under better circumstances that sounded fun. These were not better circumstances. But before Inishbofin, maybe she should go back to the old stone house. Were there any clues they missed? Was that little rowboat still there?
These were the questions swimming around her head when she entered town,
suddenly feeling slightly foolish. What was she supposed to do now? Yes, it was a small enough downtown and Bartley was a tall man, always wearing black like a hitman, easy enough to spot. But he could be anywhere. She’d have to keep her expectations low, have a stroll, and practice her surprised look in case she ran into him. Maybe he simply wanted to get away from everyone and enjoy the adorable boutiques, but something told her that wasn’t the case.
She passed storefronts, and pubs, and shops, soaking in the adorable downtown. She passed the gallery where she’d stopped in with Danny, the antique shop where she bought their (unappreciated) gifts, the restaurant where Sheila and John had been fighting, the pub where she’d first encountered Eddie Oh and Elaine. Eddie Oh.
Was Eddie having an affair with Cassidy? Or had the two of them paired up to drive Veronica mental? Maybe Tara should have a chat with Elaine about the subject, see if she had any inkling of a love affair. After all, love was a motive for murder.
Tara was just contemplating lunch when she looked up and saw Bartley. Mobile phone stuck to his ear, he paced in front of a shop, gesturing wildly. Even from across the street she could see the tension in his body, and from the way his mouth was moving, it was obvious he was giving out to someone. He then shoved the phone into his pocket and slipped inside the shop. Tara edged closer without crossing the street. It was hard to tell what kind of a shop it was from the outside, but as she moved closer it appeared to be equivalent to a pawn shop. She waited. He emerged ten minutes later. He wasn’t carrying anything. How odd. A taxi pulled up in front of him, he got in, and sped away. Tara hurried across the street and entered the shop.
* * *
A bell dinged as Tara entered the cluttered shop. Cigar smoke lingered in the air. Behind the counter an older male was absorbed in a newspaper while a younger man hunched by a shelf, adjusting the product. “What can I do ya for?” the older man asked without looking up.
Darn. She hadn’t figured out a sly way to ask about Bartley yet. “My uncle was just in here,” she said.
He glanced up. Then frowned. “Your uncle?”
She laughed. “I was raised in America.”
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