“I think I am. Too much, too soon? Or do you have other plans? Or would we decide we hated each other after a couple of weeks?” She realized her heart was pounding, Why, oh why, had she started this now?
After a surprisingly long moment of silence, Mick said, without smiling, “Maura Donovan, I would be happy to share a home with you, with all that means.”
Something inside her chest loosened. “Good, because I don’t have a script for the rest of this conversation. And I’m very glad. Because you know there’s never been anybody important in my life, so I’m going to make mistakes. And there will be times when I’ll want to be alone, or maybe just not talk. Is that okay?”
“I think I can manage, thank you.”
And thank you, Mick, she thought to herself. If he’d said no, she wasn’t sure what she would have done.
They sat smiling at each other until Maura said, “My bacon’s getting cold.”
“So eat it. And don’t expect me to cook all the time—yeh’ll have to learn herself.”
“What, you’re making demands already? I’ll have to watch and see what Rose does.”
“It’s a good start.”
It took them half an hour to finish eating, clean up the few dishes and pans in the kitchen, shower, dress, and be ready to go to Leap. “We’ll have to figure out the car situation. I mean, we have kind of different schedules. One car or two?”
“We can manage two,” Mick said. “Or take it day by day. Two cars today? Yeh might need to drive to Skibbereen, if Sean wants to meet yeh there.”
“True. Two cars it is.”
Mick went down the hill to check on Bridget, and Maura called Sean’s direct number on her cell phone. Luckily it wasn’t too early, and he answered quickly. “Good mornin’, Maura,” he greeted her cheerfully. “What can I do fer yeh this fine day?”
“I need to talk with you. No problems, but I’d rather it was sooner than later. Are you free this morning?”
“I think I can manage. Are yeh at the pub?”
“No, I’m still at the cottage, but I’m leaving for the pub as soon as I hang up. But I’d prefer to talk to you at Sullivan’s—more private than your garda station.”
“I can be there in half an hour, if that suits.”
“Fine. See you then.”
Mick reappeared then. “Bridget’s fine. I should be headin’ out.”
“I just talked to Sean—he’ll meet me at the pub. You want to sit in? There’s no way you were ever involved in all this, except when we found the body.”
“We’ll see how it goes, when we get there.”
“Then let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As she drove toward the village, Maura tried to sort out what to say to Sean, or how to introduce the difficult subject of the dead man without giving away too much immediately. Seth had been a good friend to her from the beginning, and while he was young and relatively new to his job as a garda, he was smart and used good judgment. Maura was banking on the hope that he’d make this quietly go away. Cornelius Hegarty had died a long time ago. Only his relatives near Dublin mourned him, and she couldn’t picture them or anyone else storming the village searching for vengeance now. She had a suspicion Darragh wouldn’t even tell them.
What the heck had happened with Ciara? And where the heck was the ground-penetrating radar device? She could see that Darragh would have wanted something like that, but she doubted he had planned to keep it. Maybe she should ask Sean about that. Maybe she should ask Sean about a lot of things, but she still wasn’t sure where to start.
She parked her car and let herself into the pub. Rose was still busy polishing things, and the place did look good. Maybe she should think about hiring a full-time cleaner? Or maybe patrons liked the grimy authentic feel of the place? She knew she didn’t want to create some plastic Ye Olde Pub. She also reminded herself to ask Rose again whether there were any regulations about food service they’d have to comply with, and who they should ask, and what forms they would have to fill out, and whether it would cost them anything. Maybe Rose had already looked into all that. Or maybe she should talk to Helen, who did this kind of thing professionally.
Too many questions.
Rose came out from the kitchen space, talking with Mick. “Oh hi, Maura,” she said. “Mick and I were talkin’ about building shelves and such. Sounds easy enough, but do the shelves go in before or after the appliances? How do we figure how many linear feet? What materials—other than somethin’ that’s easy to keep clean? Do we have a ladder we can use, if it’s over all our heads?”
Maura suppressed a laugh. “Don’t ask me. But you’re right—make sure whatever finish is on the shelves can stand up to cleaning. Rose, I talked to Sean Murphy, and he’s on his way over here. You can guess what we’ll be talking about, but I’m hoping there’s nothing more that needs to be done, legally at least. Is there anything else we need to think about for this week?”
“We’d best check our supplies, in case we need to order more. I know it’s been slow fer a while, but that could change. If yer mother stops by, I want to ask her if Susan’ll be around fer a bit longer. She’s been a great help, but she’s young yet and I won’t hold it against her if she gets bored with our lot here. But it’s nothin’ like she knows back in the States, and she’ll have plenty to talk about when she goes home.”
“I’ll ask when I see Helen again—she hasn’t told me what her plans are.” Or if the hotel was going to survive at all. Maura was hoping it would, for both her and Helen’s sake, and because it had a nice foothold in Skibbereen and was good for business there.
Sean appeared at the front door, knocking before entering. Maura gestured him in. “That was fast, Sean. Must be a slow day for crime in Skib?”
“It’s early yet. Yeh said yeh wanted to talk with me?”
“Yes. Want some coffee before we start?”
“That’d be grand. Good mornin’, Rose, Mick.”
“Good morning to yeh as well, Sean,” Rose said. “I’ll get that coffee.”
“I thought we could talk in the back room. It’s more private, although lately the front room’s been pretty private too. Where did all the tourists go? Or is the county repairing all the roads around here at once?”
“Ah, Maura, these things are like the tides—they come and go. Be patient. And Rose has been tellin’ me about what yer doin’ with the kitchen—that could make a difference.”
“We hope so. Follow me.” She led the way to the back room, which was relatively cool and definitely quiet. “Please, sit down.”
“What’s this about?” Sean asked.
“Before I start, can you promise you’ll listen with an open mind, and wait until I’m done?” When Sean nodded, Maura launched into her story. “It’s about that dead man in the fairy fort.”
“Ah, I thought as much.” Sean nodded. “Do yeh know anythin’ more?”
“That’s just it: I do. I could lie to you and say I didn’t know anything, but that doesn’t seem right. You’ve been a good friend, and I don’t want to get you in trouble over this, but then, I don’t want to get me or any of my friends in trouble either. Do you see my problem?”
“I do. Please, tell me what yeh know, and I’ll decide what I can or cannot do with it.”
“All right, here goes. We’ve identified the dead man as Cornelius Hegarty. He and his family lived around here, but the rest moved away when he, well, died. Which does not mean they forgot him. Apparently they’re into holding grudges.”
“And how do yeh happen to know this?”
Maura sighed. “This is where the tricky part starts. First, Darragh Hegarty is his grandson. Second, several people you and I both know also know this, and more, and they’ve told me. Mainly because this Cornelius killed my own grandfather—my grandmother Nora’s husband—in a fight. Cornelius had been drinking, and Mick Sullivan threw him out. And my grandfather had also been drinking, and they ran into each other out toward Knockskagh somewhere. The fig
ht happened nearer Old Mick’s place, and he knew what had happened. And he went after Cornelius, who ended up dead—not on purpose, exactly, but because my grandfather was Mick’s friend, and he was only defending himself in the fight. Then Old Mick buried Cornelius in the fairy fort, before the sun came up. He figured that no one would go looking for him there, or anywhere else. He was right, since he didn’t turn up until last week, forty or more years later.”
“And those who know, they’d be Bridget Nolan and Old Billy, and of course yer gran, who kept in touch with Old Mick,” Sean said flatly.
“Yes. But neither Bridget nor Old Billy had a hand in the death, although they knew about what had happened. Certainly my gran knew, and I’m thinking that’s why she left so fast with my father. I’m not sure if it was the crime that bothered her, but I’m sure she wanted to get away from the memories. I think her friends put together enough money to bury Thomas Donovan and pay for her tickets to Boston.”
Maura took a deep breath. “So that’s what I’ve learned over the past few days, since I found Cornelius’ remains. On what’s now my land. I thought about not telling you, but that didn’t seem fair, and if it came out some other way, I didn’t want you to get in trouble. Is there anything that can be done now? Or should we be done?”
Rose came in then and deposited the coffee on the table between Maura and Sean. She looked at Maura and raised an eyebrow, but Maura gave a small shake of her head, and Rose retreated silently.
Sean took his time in answering. Finally he said, “Let me tell yeh what I know up till now. Cork sent us a report on the body, and all they could say was that it was a man in early middle age, and he’d died from a couple of blows—it was the one to his head that killed him, but his neck was broken as well. The body was pretty well decayed, and they couldn’t say whether it was a blow or he’d just fallen and hit his head. There were no other identifying features, no scars or broken bones or wounds. And there weren’t many other tests they could run with what they had. Now yeh’re tellin’ me that this Darragh Hegarty is his grandson, so could be they could do something with DNA.”
“But then what, Sean? Say they do identify him—is there someone they could charge? The person who killed him and hid the body is dead. Yes, other people knew what had happened, but I couldn’t tell you when they knew. They chose to keep quiet. I don’t know a whole lot about Irish laws—maybe you could arrest Bridget Nolan and Billy for hiding evidence. But what would be the point? The killer is dead, so you can’t arrest him. And I don’t think you’d make any friends if you arrest Bridget or Billy. And I believe them when they say they didn’t do it. So, Sean, what are your choices?”
He stared into space while drinking some of his coffee. Finally he said, “So here’s what we’ve got. The postmortem was inconclusive. No one reported the man missing—I’ve checked our own files on that. There’s nothin’ to identify him, unless this Darragh wants to make a stink.”
“I don’t think he wants to—he just wanted an answer to an old family story. Remember, he’s in the same boat as I am: a grandfather he never knew was killed in a fight, up in the townlands here. With my own grandfather. What’s to be gained?”
Sean emptied his cup and sat up straighter. “Maura, I’m glad you told me. And glad that the story never spread any farther. I’m thinkin’ you don’t expect to spread it around now, nor would Bridget nor Billy, after so long.”
“Mick Nolan and Rose both know the story now, but I trust them not to tell anyone else.”
“So, as yeh rightly point out, there’s nothin’ to be gained by anyone around here. Sure, and there’s more bodies buried up in the hills, but no one knows anythin’ about them, or admits to knowin’. There’s been a lot of fightin’ in this part of Cork over the years. So I would say I won’t take this any farther. I might run it by Detective Hurley, for he’s old enough to remember some of the local history, but I wouldn’t want to put him in a difficult position about decidin’ who to tell. So fer my part, I’m willing to keep silent.”
Maura released breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “Thank you, Sean. It’s so tangled up with local history, and then with my own life. If that fight had never happened, or if both men had walked away, I wouldn’t exist, and I wouldn’t be here now. But it’s not my battle, and I care about the other people involved—they’ve kind of become my family here. So I would be grateful if this is the end of it. If I see Darragh again, and I’m not sure I will, I’ll sound him out, but I don’t think he wants to make trouble. Oh, and what happens with the body? I don’t know the cemeteries around here, and I don’t know what you do with unidentified bodies.”
“I’ll ask around, but I don’t recall any Hegarty graves or stones nearby, and the family left a long while ago. If Darragh decides to take him back to his family, wherever they are, it could stir up old problems. Yeh can ask him what he thinks. He knows the rest?”
“Yes. We included him when we talked it over. But that’s all, so far.”
Sean stood up. “Well, then, I’ll give it some thought, but unless I find out somethin’ new, I think we can and should move on.”
Maura stood as well. “Thank you, Sean. I don’t want to go around breaking laws, but I’d like to wrap my head around all this, and that will take a little time. Will you let me know if anything changes?”
“I will. How’s the kitchen comin’?”
“Really well, I think. My mother’s contributing some discarded appliances from the hotel—all perfectly legal, since they’ve been sitting in a basement rusting for a while, but they’re probably a lot newer—and will work better—than anything we’ve got here. And she’s even got a guy from the hotel who can install them. Rose wants us to plan a party when we open the kitchen and start serving real food, and I think that’s a good idea. At least it will bring in some more people.”
“It sounds like a good idea, Maura. Yeh’ll invite me?”
“Of course we will. See you out?”
They walked together to the front door, now open, and Maura watched as Sean walked back slowly to his official car. She was glad he’d seen things her way. Unless something unexpected happened, they were free to move forward now.
Epilogue
“Is the oven working right?” Maura asked anxiously, as she watched Rose move around the newly finished kitchen as though she’d been working in it for years. Maura couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so nervous, and she couldn’t really understand why she was. She’d agreed that serving real food at Sullivan’s was a good idea (as long as she wasn’t doing the cooking), and she’d approved every change that had been made. They’d all sampled meals produced by Rose, just to be sure the appliances did what they were supposed to. All had passed with flying colors, including Rose.
Susan was watching Rose like a hawk, ready to deliver a finished plate as soon as it was ready. Maura felt both proud and distressed by that. She was glad Susan had thrown herself into this very ordinary task with enthusiasm and was doing it well, but she was pretty sure her mother had bigger plans for her than serving food. Still, they both knew it was temporary: at the end of the summer, Helen and Susan would be going back to Chicago so Susan could go back to school, and that would mean the end of what had become a pleasant relationship. She hoped Susan would come back to Cork sometime—and she knew Helen would, since the Crann Mor hotel seemed to have gained new life once Helen had gotten to know it and also know what local hotel-goers wanted.
“Yeh’ve asked me before and I’ve told yeh before, Maura,” Rose said, without stopping what she was doing. “Everything’s goin’ fine. Quit yer worryin’ and go enjoy the crowd.”
Maura had to admit she was useless just hovering in the doorway of the kitchen and getting in the way. “Yes, ma’am. But give a shout if you need an extra pair of hands. I’m pretty good at washing dishes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Susan, that plate’s for the corner table.”
Maura retreated quickly. In the mai
n room she allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sight of people, both familiar and new, enjoying food and drink. It had been a slow summer, for no reason she had figured out, but they seemed to have turned a corner. She’d be happy to give the credit to Rose and her food—even she could recognize the quality. Maybe she ought to make Rose a partner in Sullivan’s—she’d earned it.
Maura slid behind the bar, where Mick was setting up pint glasses with practiced skill. “Everything going all right?” she asked.
He flashed her a quick smile. “Do yeh need to ask?”
“I guess not,” she admitted. “It’s been a while since we’ve been this busy. I hope it lasts.”
“The word’s out. Stop worryin’.”
“That’s what Rose told me. So I should go look like a successful pub owner and mingle with the crowd?”
“Yeh can take this tray of pints over to that table by the window. And one of them’s fer Billy.”
“Got it.”
Glad to have something useful to do, Maura hoisted the tray and made her way to the corner, stopping to chat with the American couple seated there. Their first trip to Ireland, and Maura now knew enough about West Cork to give them some good suggestions about what to see and do. Then she took the tray with its last glass and went over to Billy. For once he was alone, but he seemed to be enjoying just watching the hubbub. She set the full glass in front of him and dropped into the chair beside his.
“I’m afraid to say anything, in case I jinx it,” she told him. “Looks like things are going well. Think it will last?”
“Ah, Maura, don’t worry yerself. Yeh’ve got a good cook, and a cheerful place here. Just keep the pints comin’.”
“That’s the easy part. But it’s nice to see the place busy again.”
Billy stared across the room, but Maura wasn’t sure he was looking at anything in particular. Then he said, “Could be Old Mick’s at peace, and he’s givin’ you his thanks.”
“Was he really so upset by … what happened?”
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