Murder in Connemara

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Murder in Connemara Page 24

by Carlene O'Connor


  “I can tell.” He went back to his paper.

  “I was hoping you’d be willing to help me with a little surprise.”

  “I doubt it.”

  She glanced around the shop. There were the usual items. Jewelry. Trinkets. Books. Clothes. She could smell dust. Whenever they salvaged items, they cleaned them up before putting them on the floor of the mill. Yes, they would leave the rust, or patina, on certain objects as they added an extra beauty to how the object had aged, but that was a far cry from leaving it dirty. She couldn’t picture Bartley in this shop. What on earth was he doing here? “I have to buy something for his birthday and he’s just impossible to please.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I was hoping that you could tell me what it was that interested him in here—if he bought anything, that is.”

  “He wasn’t buying for himself.”

  “Oh.” Now she really wanted to know. Who was he buying for in here? What in the world was it? “I’m not surprised. He’s a giver.”

  “You don’t say.”

  What were the chances she found the one Irish shopkeeper who wasn’t a talker. “Thank you.” She turned and headed out.

  “He already did.”

  She stopped at the door. He already did. He’d come here to thank the shopkeeper? Or ask him not to talk? What would have drawn him to this shop in the first place? “Do you ever repair items?” Or damage them . . .

  He lowered his newspaper slightly. “Aye.”

  “Like music boxes.”

  The clerk grinned for the first time, showing gaps in his bottom front teeth. “Could ya even recognize the old tune?”

  “Who wouldn’t recognize ‘The Old Woman from Wexford’?”

  He grinned. “Sounded close enough, did it?”

  “Everyone got the message.” The music box had been tampered with before it was brought to the mill. Which meant Bartley had seen her purchase it. Had he been following her? She exited the shop, leaned against the wall and exhaled. If Bartley had altered the music box, her next question was—why? Was he pointing a finger at Elaine? Elaine had once been in love with Terrance. Was Bartley trying to tell her that Veronica had murdered him? Had Cassidy been right all along? Or was Bartley sending another kind of message? A threat? What had Mimi realized from her notebooks? She said something about his finances, didn’t she? Had he been stealing money from Veronica’s estate all these years? Was Bartley their killer?

  She was starving and lunch was next on the agenda before she fainted. But first she texted Sergeant Gable, told him the name of the shop, and filled him in on what she’d learned. He responded:

  Good work. The music box is actual evidence we can use.

  Don’t return to the shop. We’ll take it from here.

  She felt a flush of pride for being praised, but also noticed he couldn’t help but tell her not to return to the shop. As if she was trying to take over. Tara felt a pang of loneliness and wished she could call Danny. He hadn’t called her since their fight. It wasn’t fair that the guards were asking her to keep those closest to her in the dark. Then again, she also didn’t want to place those she loved in danger. He doesn’t want you in danger either, that’s why he’s angry.

  She entered a pub, sat at the counter, and ordered seafood chowder with brown bread and a pint of Guinness. She wanted to get her mind off the case, and for a few seconds she did let herself enjoy the seafood chowder, and brown bread. But like a boomerang, her thoughts returned.

  Bartley had worked for Veronica the longest. Why would he wait all these years to murder her? What if, instead, he was trying to suss out the culprit himself? Playing detective. She suspected the same of Andy. And Mimi. Look how that turned out.

  Why did Bartley return to the shop? It couldn’t have been just to thank the man who tinkered with the music box. Was he checking to make sure no one else from the group had been in to ask about it? If so, she prayed he was satisfied and wouldn’t go a third time. She certainly couldn’t march back in and ask the shopkeeper, especially since the guards would be paying him a visit. She hoped they’d go in subtly, but she couldn’t very well text Gable and tell him how to do his job.

  “You’re the American who’s involved in the murder probe.” Tara’s hand froze with her spoon halfway to her mouth. The female voice came from behind her. She turned to see a woman her own age with flowing red hair, and a scrubbed look, no makeup, but freckles and inquisitive blue eyes.

  “Accidentally involved,” Tara said. There was no use denying it.

  The woman took the stool next to Tara. “I need your help.”

  “My help?”

  The woman swallowed. “I’m Alexis. I don’t tink I introduced myself when we spoke on the phone.”

  “On the phone?”

  “I’m an innkeeper on Inishbofin Island.”

  It was the last thing Tara expected her to say. “Yes,” she said. “Nancy Halligan was staying with you when . . .”

  Alexis nodded. “I’m sorry to ambush you. I was actually on my way to Ballynahinch Castle to see if I could find you—and here you are.”

  “Does the family want Savage back?”

  “Savage?”

  “Nancy’s pug. She’s being well taken care of. But if you know someone in the family who wants her . . .” Please, please no.

  Alexis shook her head. “I’m glad she’s being looked after.”

  “I’ve been meaning to come see you too,” Tara said. “Have the guards been to see you?”

  “Only to ask some basic questions. I’ve been waiting for someone to give me some answers, or pick up her things. I’m still waiting.”

  “Why did you come to see me?”

  “You found Nancy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see her backpack?”

  Tara shook her head. “No.”

  “I told the guards she had a backpack. They’ve never followed up.”

  “They keep things close to their chest. What did it look like? What was in it?”

  “It was black. She had water and sandwiches.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I made the sandwiches. I saw the bottle of water. We spoke about the heat before she left.”

  “Why was she going for a hike in that weather?”

  Alexis glanced to her right and left, then leaned in and lowered her voice. “I think she was meeting a man.”

  “Why did you think that?”

  “She said nothing about going to Connemara. Then the night before she gets a phone call. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

  “But?”

  She sighed. “It’s a small inn and she was in my back garden. I heard her say, ‘Calm down. Where can we meet?’ ”

  “Why do you think it was a man?”

  “I made sure I was up early the next morning. I kind of ambushed her as she left. I teased. I said, looks like someone has a hot date. She just shook her head and laughed that her dog was the only hot date she had lined up.” She paused. “But she blushed.”

  “Hot date? In a tracksuit?”

  Alexis blinked. Her mouth opened several times but nothing came out but a little squeak. Then she shrugged. “She put on lipstick. And perfume.”

  “To go hiking?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I think you need to speak with the guards again.” Tara didn’t want this woman knowing that she was working with them. She jotted down Sergeant Gable’s number. “Here. Call him directly. Or Breanna Cunningham.” She wrote down Breanna’s number as well. “I promise they’ll take you serious this time.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did you call the police when she didn’t return that morning?”

  Alexis hunched over. “No. Besides, it was normal for Nancy to wander for days.”

  “Wait. Are you saying that’s not the first time she’d stayed with you?”

  “Heavens, no. Nancy has been coming to Inishbofin for years. I can’t claim she was a dear friend. But she
was a wonderful client. Kept to herself. That’s why she loved Inishbofin. I never pried.” Alexis’s voice grew husky, and she took a minute to collect herself. “Everyone on the island knew Nancy. I’m sure you already know this.”

  “No,” Tara said.

  Alexis shrugged. “I think I told the guards Nancy was a regular. I kept waiting to be interviewed. No one ever came. Maybe I should have contacted them. But I swear. She never indicated that anything was wrong. Not once.”

  “It’s a terrible shock. You can’t blame yourself. But you should contact the guards and tell them absolutely everything you just told me.” If Nancy was planning on meeting someone, it meant it hadn’t been a matter of mistaken identity. They did not confuse Nancy and Veronica. Which meant they wanted them both dead.

  The question was why. Tara had to return to the stone house. Was there a backpack stashed somewhere nearby?

  “Look,” Alexis said, sweat forming on her brow. “I heard her tell the person on the phone to calm down.”

  “Yes, I heard you,” Tara said slowly. Alexis nodded, chewing on her lip. Tara knew there was more.

  “I heard a name, but I don’t know what it means.”

  “What was the name?”

  “Eddie.”

  A tingle went up her spine. “You heard her say Eddie?”

  The woman swallowed, then nodded. “ ‘Calm down, Eddie. Where can we meet?’ ”

  Chapter 29

  Tara had planned on going back to Galway so she could speak with Sergeant Gable about the latest Nancy revelation, and remind him she wanted to look at Mimi’s notebooks. If he wanted her help he was going to have to give her some leeway. She was on her way to the room to grab a few things when Andy stopped her at the entrance to the castle.

  “I’ve just been asked to take the group to Connemara National Park in the morning.”

  “Oh.” Either the group was getting antsy and wanted to hike, or Gable was right. They were still going after the amends. “Can I join?”

  “I was expecting you would.”

  “Whose amends are they chasing?”

  “Elaine Burke’s.”

  Tara texted Gable the change of plans. She suddenly had a free evening in front of her. She hurried inside, eager to get to the room, where there was a paperback book on her nightstand and a bathrobe with her name on it.

  * * *

  The Connemara National Park had a visitor center with a small museum and gift shop on the top floor, and a café and sitting room on the lower level. From there you could exit onto the hiking paths, following three trails of varying difficulties. The most difficult path up to Diamond Hill, a distance of 3.7 kilometers, was marked in red. Yellow was the easiest. Most of the group decided to go with blue, the middle-child hike. Iona was the lone soul determined to take the longest hike. Gable let Tara know that one of his men would be at Connemara National Park, blending in with the other hikers, and Tara had a feeling this is when they would find out whether or not she was faking her injury.

  The day had started with a cover of gray, but now the sun was peeking through the mountains, making it sunny and misty at the same time. The first part of the walk they saw cows, and sheep, and deer. Elaine was the last in the group, and when they reached the first hill, she balked.

  “Why is the Connemara National Park my location for amends? Shouldn’t this be Iona’s?”

  “Injury my arse,” Cassidy said, pointing to Iona’s back in the distance. “Look at her go.”

  “Perhaps we should inform the guards,” Bartley said. “Whoever inherits the estate may want to discontinue her payments.”

  “Whoever?” Cassidy said. “I’m her only family.”

  “Did you ever find your pills?” Elaine asked.

  “No.” Cassidy pouted. “But turns out they were just my sleeping pills. Why? Do you know who stole them?”

  “I don’t know a ting,” Elaine said as they started uphill. “But why didn’t you report it to the guards?”

  “Because after two murders I hardly doubt they care about a little pill swipe. It was probably one of the housekeepers. Or the driver.”

  “Andy?” Tara said, her anger starting to simmer.

  “He drove me to the chemist,” Cassidy said. “I could have dropped them in the vehicle.”

  “That doesn’t make him a thief,” Tara said.

  “He’s responsible for cleaning it out, isn’t he?” Cassidy argued.

  Of course somebody like Cassidy would blame the hardworking staff. It was blood-boiling.

  “I can’t hike!” Elaine said, stopping halfway up the hill. “She’s just doing this to embarrass me.” As hills went, it was pretty modest. Tara vowed to keep herself in shape. It would feel terrible not to be able to climb this.

  “Could this have anything to do with the day Veronica met Iona?” Tara asked.

  Elaine gawped at her. “How could it?”

  “I don’t know. Were you supposed to accompany her that day?”

  Elaine scrunched her face. “I don’t remember. It doesn’t ring a bell, but it was so long ago. I wish we had Mimi’s notebooks.”

  Another thorn in Tara’s side. She texted Gable once more:

  I keep asking about Mimi’s notebooks. Need to see them. Please respond.

  The hike took them an hour, mainly because Elaine had to stop often and complain. The view from the top of the blue hike was stunning. Rolling mountains, trees with shining red leaves, and the bay shimmering in the distance. Tara took a moment to breathe, and soak it in. By the time they returned to the visitor center, Iona was there arguing with a strange man.

  “She had the longest hike and she beat us?” Cassidy said. “Definitely faking that injury.”

  “I saw you filming me!” Iona screamed at the strange man.

  “Just the scenery,” he said. Gable’s man.

  “I demand you erase any footage of me.”

  “Certainly.” He started to walk away.

  “I want to see you do it!”

  He shook his head, and kept walking.

  “We saw you too,” Cassidy said. “There was no sign of a limp.”

  Iona whirled around, her face red with fury. Or from exertion. Or both. “Mind your own business.”

  Cassidy stepped forward, jabbing her finger at Iona. “How much money have you been taking from Veronica for a fake injury?”

  “It wasn’t fake. I’m healing, that’s all. And I’ve worked very hard to get here.”

  “You shouldn’t be taking any more money.”

  “For your information my lawyers have already agreed on an end date. All of my progress records were being shared with her. She knew I was healing. There are only three months left of payments, and that was her idea, not mine.”

  Everyone turned to Bartley to see if he could verify this. “I do know she was receiving Iona’s records. I did not read them. I’m sure they exist within Veronica’s belongings.”

  “I can’t wait to get away from you people,” Iona said, then strode inside.

  Tara texted Gable an update, including Iona’s claims that Veronica had her progress records and the end date to the payments. He replied right away:

  Good work. Come to the station. Mimi’s notebooks will be made available.

  Finally. They stood in the outdoor courtyard. “Do you think my amends are here?” Elaine asked. She looked to the group for answers. None were given.

  “Maybe they’re not all obvious,” Sheila said.

  Elaine sank onto a nearby bench. “That’s not helpful at all.”

  Tara lifted her eyes to the sky. It looked like rain. “I don’t know what else we can do today. But we can always come back.”

  “I don’t need anything. An apology is enough.”

  “She never really apologized though, did she?” Cassidy pointed out.

  “You can have my riding classes if you wish,” Iona offered.

  “She didn’t even ride the first time,” Cassidy said. “Can we give her Mimi’
s watch?” A gasp went through the crowd. “What? It’s not like she’s going to need it.”

  “It’s fine,” Elaine said. Andy entered the courtyard.

  “There’s something under the bench,” he said, pointing to where Elaine was perched.

  “If you mean my fat arse, I don’t find that funny,” she said.

  Andy laughed. “No, ma’am. Looks like an envelope.”

  She bent over sideways, then upon seeing he was correct, reached under. Everyone moved in.

  Elaine. You were a good friend. Galway Properties has your amends. You always said you wanted to retire in Connemara. There’s an old stone house I think you’d like, plus a budget to rehab it. Can’t wait to be invited over for tea and biscuits. Let’s renew our friendship in our golden years. XOXO Roni

  Tara gasped. Heads snapped toward her.

  “What is it?” Elaine said.

  Should she tell them?

  “That’s where Nancy Halligan died,” Bartley said.

  “My word,” Elaine said. “I don’t understand.”

  “A house?” Cassidy said. “Iona gets riding lessons, Mimi got a watch, and you get a house?”

  “She stole my entire life,” Elaine said, clutching the envelope and standing up to Cassidy. “I was supposed to marry your uncle. And you know it.” Cassidy fell silent, twirling a strand of her long blond hair. “Besides, Veronica’s new best friend died at the house? I’m not sure I even want it.”

  “It’s not really a house,” Tara said. “It would need to be completely rebuilt. But it’s a gorgeous piece of property.” Tara wouldn’t mind living there herself.

  Elaine headed toward the exit. “I want to go home.”

  After everyone else piled into the SUV, Tara hung back.

  “You okay, there?” Andy asked.

  “I’m going to stay. Clear my head.”

  He held eye contact, then nodded. “It’s an interesting development.” He gave her another nod, then pulled away. Tara stared until the SUV was out of sight. She began to pace. Veronica knew all about the old stone house. Was that why she visited Galway Properties? It had to be. Not for Sheila and John. For Elaine.

  Tara tried to remember her first meeting with Veronica. Did Tara tell Veronica where she’d found Nancy Halligan?

 

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