Murder in Connemara

by Carlene O'Connor

  The book. Tara didn’t know how that fit into Eddie and Cassidy’s scheme, or the tracksuits, and she hoped she would find out. She also didn’t know what Mimi had discovered in one of her notebooks that set off her radar. It was frustrating, all these hanging threads. But Tara had a feeling that once they brought the pair in, one or both would start spilling. As Danny pulled into the long road leading to Ballynahinch Castle, Savage started to bark excitedly. Tara wanted to see if Savage would have a reaction to Eddie. It would help convince Tara that he was the killer. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the guards had it wrong. Maybe she was too close to the suspects. She felt a twinge of sadness. She was actually going to miss this motley crew, and was definitely going to miss the castle. She was touched they wanted her at their goodbye celebration. She wasn’t looking forward to the guards interrupting the goodbyes to bring Eddie and Cassidy to the station, but staging this goodbye was the only way they could guarantee the pair wouldn’t run.

  The patio had been decorated with white lights, a portable bar was set up, and waiters were winding through the guests with appetizers. The group was surprisingly engaged with each other, laughing and more relaxed than Tara had ever seen them. After all, they all believed they were going home. Andy and Bartley were part of the mix, and for the first time both of them were in their casual clothes as opposed to the driver’s uniform or Bartley’s stuffy suits.

  Savage was happy to be passed from person to person. Tara was chatting with Iona when the wind picked up, prompting Eddie to put on his tweed cap. Savage, who was nestled in Iona’s arms, went mental, scratching to be let down and yelping. Iona let out a scream of surprise and immediately set Savage free. The dog barreled for Eddie, snarling and snapping at his heels before turning and tearing off across the lawn.

  “What was that?” Eddie said, as everyone turned to stare.

  “You always did have a way with the women,” Elaine said, lifting a martini.

  “I’ll get her,” Danny said, taking off after Savage. Tara stared at Eddie. Did Savage suddenly remember him? Had the poor pup witnessed the murder? Was Eddie wearing that cap at the time?

  From the shadows, guards stepped into the celebration. “Eddie O’Farrell and Cassidy Hughes,” they announced.

  “Yes?” Eddie turned.

  “Who wants to know?” Cassidy quipped. The guards asked to see them in private, and after a few awkward laughs, Eddie downed his shot. “Am I under arrest because that little savage didn’t like me?”

  The guards separated them from the group, as they read them the charge and their rights. Their attempt not to make a scene was moot when Cassidy began raging. She could probably be heard inside every room in the castle. Threats, calls for solicitors, and name-calling poured out of her. The remaining guests huddled together listening to every word.

  “Why are you arresting me?” Cassidy screamed. “You just arrested him.”

  Eddie howled with drunken laughter. “They think we’re in on it together.”

  “If I was going to kill her I would have done it a long time ago,” Cassidy screamed. “Do you know what my amends was? Rehab! And now you’re not going to let me go? I need help, not prison!”

  Eddie pointed. “Don’t say a word. Ask for a solicitor—not one word!”

  “Is this about the box of brooches?” Cassidy asked.

  “What?” Tara was on high alert.

  “I left them for you as a joke,” Cassidy said. “I thought you could make a killing selling them.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” Tara said.

  Cassidy shrugged. “Americans are so uptight. Who gets arrested for giving someone a gift?”

  “You certainly aren’t doing us any favors here,” Eddie said, throwing a warning look to Cassidy.

  “This is unfathomable,” Cassidy screamed. “Bartley! Tell these idiots to release me.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot represent you,” Bartley said, the glee obvious in his voice. “You’ll have to find another solicitor.”

  “Eddie did this all on his own,” Cassidy screamed. “He’s probably the one who got Veronica all riled up Friday evening.”

  “I wasn’t even here,” Eddie said. “I didn’t check in until after my Veronica was murdered.”

  “Then why did she accost me Friday evening? Accuse me of shifting you in the elevator?”

  Eddie threw his arms open. “Did you shift me in the elevator?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then what’s your point?”

  Cassidy folded her arms. “Maybe you were here Friday evening. Maybe told her you kissed me. Maybe you told her you were in love with me.”

  “My word. That’s a lot of maybes.” Eddie shook his head. “You’re not helping either of us.”

  Tara waited for Cassidy to admit that Eddie was here. With her. She did not. Strange. Weren’t they each other’s alibi? What did it mean if they’re weren’t having an affair?

  “How do we know you weren’t sleeping together?” Elaine said. “Maybe the two of you are in this together.”

  “Have you seen me?” Cassidy screamed. “Why would I sleep with an aging alcoholic—a washed up artist?”

  “You little pill-popper,” Eddie said as the pair was dragged to separate guard cars. “Stop screaming nonsense or you’re going to get us convicted.”

  Tara sighed. They weren’t even off the property and they were already turning on each other. It probably wouldn’t be long until one or both spilled out the unvarnished truth.

  “Unfathomable,” Elaine said, echoing Cassidy’s earlier word. “I had no idea her vocabulary was that advanced.” The group fell into transfixed silence as the guard cars pulled away.

  “Eddie and Cassidy?” Sheila said. “They killed Roni? Both of them?”

  Everyone slowly turned to Tara as Danny returned to the patio with Savage in his arms. “The guards have found evidence that implicates them,” Tara said. Sergeant Gable had authorized her to say that and nothing more. It wouldn’t be until much later that they would learn about their affair, Eddie’s proclamation of creating groundbreaking new sculptures, Cassidy’s sleeping pills found at the first murder scene, and the proof that she’d purchased the marble stones found on Veronica. And Tara herself didn’t know if Veronica’s will held additional evidence, such as Cassidy inheriting the bulk of the estate. They would probably need a confession to prosecute. It was all circumstantial as far as she could see.

  “I told Veronica that man was trouble,” Elaine said. “If only she would have listened to me.”

  “To Veronica,” Iona said, holding up her glass.

  “To Veronica,” the remainder of the group echoed.

  “I must say, that’s a relief,” Bartley said, wiping his brow. “I’m a good saver, and my healthy bank account nearly got me accused of murder.”

  “We should all keep in touch,” Sheila said.

  “We certainly want to hear when you adopt a child,” Elaine said. “I know it will happen for you.”

  Sheila beamed, but John looked stiff and uncomfortable. Tara had a feeling the pair still had a tough road in front of them, and secretly hoped they wouldn’t adopt a child until he was completely on board. Children deserved mature and happy parents. If life had turned out differently and she and Gabriel had passed away, she couldn’t imagine little Thomas being raised by Sheila and John. But she could see him happy with Uncle Johnny and Rose; as odd as the pair was, they were good people. They were family. The sun was just starting to set when they said their final goodbyes and headed for Danny’s truck.

  “Sad to leave the castle?” Danny asked.

  “No,” Tara said. “I like the mill.” She meant it. It was home.

  Danny put his arm around her. “Are you going to tell me what’s been occupying that big brain of yours?”

  Tara laughed. “Is my brain big?”

  Danny grinned. “It’s the perfect size. But right now it seems to be on overdrive.”

  She hesitated. It was hard
to put this feeling into words, and she didn’t quite trust it. She wasn’t a guard. “I had a client once, back in New York. He hired me to decorate his one-bedroom.”

  “Okay.”

  “No expense spared. And I understood his style. But we argued over this one sofa.”

  “Ugly, was it?”

  Tara laughed. “No. It was a beautiful sofa. Sleek. Modern. But it was too big for his space. It just didn’t fit.”

  “I see.”

  “But he insisted. So I was forced to place this enormous sofa in this tiny space and decorate around it. I did the job. I got paid. But I wasn’t happy. Because no matter what he said, that sofa didn’t fit.”

  “You don’t think Eddie and Cassidy fit?”

  Tara shook her head. “I can see all the pieces that do fit. On the surface it looks as if the guards have nailed it. But there are missing pieces. And I can’t explain it, but I can’t stop thinking about that sofa. I obsessed over it. And I have the same feeling now.”

  Before Danny could reply, a truck careened up the drive, dirt and gravel spitting from its tires. A man in a baseball cap and a flannel shirt stuck his head out the window and called to Tara. “How ya.”

  “What now?” Danny said under his breath.

  “I saw you with the guards at the castle,” he said.

  “Okay,” Tara said. She had no idea who this man was.

  “I own a farm near Clifden Castle. Me sheep dog found something. I didn’t touch it. Would you mind coming to have a look at it?”

  “You just missed the guards,” Danny said. “We can call 999.”

  The farmer shook his head. “Me neighbors will kill me if I get a flood of guards out to us again for nothing. Would you just have a look? And if you tink it’s something, then I’ll call in the cavalry.”

  “Yes,” Tara said. “We’ll have a look.”

  “Tara,” Danny said.

  “We won’t touch anything,” Tara said.

  “I can drive.” They didn’t realize Andy was nearby until he spoke.

  “You can hop in with me,” the farmer said.

  Danny sighed. “So close, and yet so far.”

  “Thanks, Andy,” Tara said. “But I think you’re officially off duty.”

  He nodded. “I suppose I am.”

  Tara and Danny headed for the farmer’s truck. “Call the guards if we don’t come back,” Danny called out.

  Chapter 33

  There was a haunting beauty to the Clifden Castle as the setting sun set it aglow. The farmer pulled his truck to the back, and then led them down a path to another set of ruined stone buildings. It appeared to be an old carriage house, or stables. The sheepdog ran ahead of them, all muscle and energy.

  The farmer stopped and pointed into an open space within a portion of the crumbling structure where weeds choked the dirt floor. “Looks like women’s clothing. I promise ye it wasn’t there last time I was here.”

  Tara followed his finger until she saw fabric poking out of a backpack. It was purple and white. Tara gasped. “I think it’s Nancy Halligan’s.” She turned to the farmer. “When was the last time you were here?”

  “About a week before the murder.”

  “You say your dog found it?” Danny said.

  The farmer nodded and pointed again. “Seems it was buried, he dug it up, see?”

  Indeed they could see. They inched closer. Stuffed underneath the first blouse was a second one. It appeared to be lightweight, designer. Like something Veronica would wear. Beneath it, the edge of a bag could be seen. Tara had a feeling it contained Nancy Halligan’s belongings. Everything she brought with her to the stone cottage when she arrived to meet Eddie. She couldn’t touch the items in case it was evidence. But what did it mean? Did Eddie get her to take sleeping pills and wait until she fell asleep? Then left her, or worse yet, dragged her out into the blazing sun, taking her water, and belongings? Tara thought back to Veronica’s tracksuit. Identical to Nancy’s tracksuit. It seemed odd that Nancy would wear a tracksuit in that heat. Hadn’t Alexis made a funny face when Tara mentioned Nancy’s tracksuit? If she hadn’t worn it that day, then why didn’t Alexis just say so?

  “What are you thinking?” Danny said.

  “What if—the killer dressed them?”

  “Eddie?” Danny said. “Part of his sculptures?”

  “Maybe.” It seemed like such an unartistic choice, if that was the case.

  “You’re still thinking about that sofa, aren’t you?”

  She nodded and turned to the farmer. “You did the right thing by not touching it. But I’m afraid we have to call the guards.”

  Why tracksuits? And the stones? Art was subjective, but the artist usually knew his or her own meaning. What meaning did stones and tracksuits hold for Eddie? If it was him, would he ever tell them? She turned to Danny. “I almost forgot how much you like Eddie.”

  “I’m losing interest as we speak,” Danny said solemnly. They were silent on the way back to Ballynahinch, each lost in thought. Once the farmer dropped them off at the hotel, Danny held open the door to his truck, and Tara was about to step in when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Alexis. “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  Tara held up a finger and answered. “Thank goodness I reached you,” Alexis said.

  “Is everything alright?” Tara was going to ask her about Nancy’s tracksuit, but first she needed to find out why Alexis was calling her.

  Danny mimed banging his head into his truck. Tara shook her head and smiled.

  “I just discovered some of Nancy’s things still in her room. Including some kind of prescription bottle for Savage.”

  “Oh,” Tara said. “What’s the prescription for?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Sorry, I guess it doesn’t matter, as long as she seems healthy.”

  “I’d still like to know.” She glanced at the cab where Savage was curled into a sleeping ball. “What else is there?”

  “Clothing, and some personal papers. I’ve called the family, but they haven’t returned my call. Should I just box it up?”

  Tara hesitated. Inishbofin Island was a forty-minute ferry ride from Clifden. If she went all the way back to Galway, she’d never have a look at whatever these items were. What if something in there was the missing piece? Could Tara really just walk away?

  “The last ferry of the day leaves in twenty minutes,” Alexis said, as if reading Tara’s mind. “And you’re welcome to spend the night. No charge.”

  “I’ll be there,” Tara said.

  “No,” Danny said when she hung up. “I have to be back in Galway. I have an early run in the morning.” Tara turned to see Andy loading his SUV. “Tara,” Danny said. “Don’t do this.”

  “I’m sorry. I have to.” Danny followed her gaze over to Andy. He was in his usual spot, leaning against his vehicle. Veronica’s vehicle. Most likely Cassidy’s now, or Elaine’s. The will might even be contested. Tara was relieved she wouldn’t have to be involved in any of that drama. Andy was definitely the loyal sort. He could have taken off already. Tara wondered if he was lonely. Leaving this gorgeous castle and its grounds wasn’t going to be easy for any of them.

  “He’s off duty, remember?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tara said again. She approached Andy, filled him in, and asked for the ride to the ferry.

  “No,” he said. “If you’re doing this, you’re not going alone. I’ll drive you to the ferry, but I’m also getting on it with you.” Danny met her eyes, then nodded. Tara ran up and hugged him.

  “Please don’t be mad,” she said. “I like the space we’re in.”

  He chuckled. “Do I fit?” he asked. “In the space we’re in.”

  “You do,” she said. “You definitely fit.”

  “Be safe, Miss America.” She leaned in and kissed him.

  * * *

  The red-and-white vessel churned across the water, steadily bouncing them toward their destination. Tara and Andy stood out on the deck, a
nd the wind knocked them back. They were instructed to come back inside as the waves leapt higher, covering the windows. “We’re lucky,” Andy said. “I bet they would have canceled this ride if they knew how much the waves were going to kick up.”

  “Lucky,” she repeated, as her stomach roiled.

  “You don’t want to know the nickname for this ferry.”

  “Probably not, but now you’ll have to tell me.” Andy grinned. “The Boffin Coffin.”

  He was right, she didn’t want to know. “Because in weather like this we might capsize and die?”

  Andy laughed. “No. Normally because the nightlife on the island is so much craic you might be dead leaving.”

  “We won’t be in that boat,” Tara joked, half wishing they weren’t in this one. Tara had researched the island, Inis Bo Finne, Island of the White Cow, and wished she was going there for the first time under happier circumstances. Tara shivered as the cold seeped into her bones.

  “Here.” Andy removed his jacket and put it around Tara.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I have a thick jumper. Besides, I’m used to this.”

  “You’ve been to Inishbofin?” she asked Andy.

  “I spent nearly every summer there as a child,” Andy said. “My grandparents are from Inishbofin.”

  Sandy beaches, three looped walking treks, and birdwatching were a few of the reasons people flocked to the island. But they would see none of it today, and not just because of the mission they were on, but the skies left no doubt that a storm was fast approaching. “How will we get to the inn?” Tara asked. “Are there cars on the island?”

  “There’s one main road and a few cars. But the inn is walking distance from the ferry. We might have to make a run for it before the rain starts pummeling us.”

  This had been a bad idea. Tara should have waited, or sent the guards. It was too late now. Hopefully Alexis had nice accommodations and maybe even a few good paperbacks left by previous guests. She wanted to cozy up with a cup of tea and a compelling read, then, if weather allowed, get the first ferry out in the morning. Not that she didn’t want to explore the island sometime, but she was ready to get back to her life in Galway. Her new life. Her first salvage outing. She gazed around the other passengers, wondering if they were as seasick as she was. It was then that she saw him. Sitting in a back corner, scrunched down. All that was visible was a bald head. She stared until he lifted his chin just enough to get a good look.