“He never said much, but it didn’t sit well with him. He was never a violent man. But he spent less and less time out at Knockskagh in his last years. Maybe it didn’t feel like home to him anymore.”
“It’s a shame. But I’m glad we got it all out in the open. Thank you for your part in it.”
“Yeh needed to know. And I’d guess Old Mick wanted you to know. Now we can lay it to rest and enjoy what he created here, and what yeh’ve made better.”
“That sounds good to me.”
“Will yer sister be leavin’ soon?”
“End of the summer, I think. I hope she comes back.”
“I’m thinking she will. Not to stay, mebbe, but I think she likes this place, and her mother’ll be going back and forth for a while.”
“Good. She’s a good kid. If I’d been in her shoes, I would have been a real pain, and probably spent most of my time hiding out and sulking. If I’d come at all.”
“Yeh might have noticed, Maura Donovan, that these things have a way of working themselves out. Now, go on and take care of yer customers. We haven’t seen Seamus and his gang yet, and they’re sure to be thirsty when they arrive.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks, Billy.”
She stood and turned toward the bar, but she was intercepted by Susan. “Got a minute?” she asked.
“Sure. How about outside? You look like you could use some fresh air.”
“Great. But not for too long because Rose needs me.” Susan headed for the side door, and Maura wove her way through the crowd to follow her. Outside there were a few more customers, but they all looked well supplied with pints. Maura directed Susan toward the edge of the property, overlooking the ravine.
“Something wrong?” Maura asked, as soon as they were far enough away not to be heard.
“Oh, no, no, nothing like that. I just wanted a chance to thank you. We’ve never had time to talk much, and now the place is crazy busy.”
“What are you thanking me for?”
“Well, I guess for being nice. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be you and to be handed a pissed-off baby sister out of the blue.”
Maura smiled. “If that was your pissed off, you’d better work on it. I was surprised you were polite at all. And at least I had some warning, since I knew you existed. Not that I expected you to pop up in front of me one day. Like your mother did.”
“Yeah, we started off really well. But you didn’t treat me like a stupid kid, and you gave me something to do, and I’ve had a lot of fun. More than I expected.”
“I’m glad. It took me a while to get there. I got here at a difficult time in my life, and then I kept getting surprises. Don’t get me wrong—they were all good, like inheriting a house and pub, but they were unexpected and I didn’t know how to handle them. It’s taken me a while to get used to the way things work around here, and I didn’t know anything about Ireland, or anywhere outside of Boston, really. But I like it now. It’s beginning to feel like home.”
“You look happy,” Susan told her. “Most of the time, anyway.”
“Good. I’d hate to scare customers away by looking grim all the time. Look, Susan, if you’re trying to find a way to say that you’d like to come back again, I’d be happy to have you. Or if your folks insist you have to go off to college right away, or take some super-serious summer class in astrophysics, I won’t take it personally. You can still come for vacations. I bet winters here are better than in Chicago.”
“Uh, yeah!” Susan said eagerly. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t think I was in the way or something.”
“Not at all. It’s just that I’m not used to having family, so I’m still trying to understand how it works. I would be happy to see you here anytime, with or without your mother. Our mother. See? That takes getting used to too.”
Susan grinned. “I’ll be happy to lend her to you whenever you want.” She turned to go back inside, but stopped again. “By the way, I think Mick is cool. I think the two of you are cool together.”
Maura hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Are we that obvious?”
“Yes.” Susan turned to hurry back to the kitchen, and Maura followed more slowly.
Inside the noise level had risen another notch. The sun was low in the sky, turning the interior into gold. And wonderful smells were coming from the direction of the kitchen. People looked happy and well fed. Maybe this was all going to work.
She slid behind the bar again and came closer to Mick.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Nope. Susan likes me, and she’d love to come back here when she can. And she approves of you and me. Us, I mean. Smart kid.”
“She is that.”
“Do you know, I’m almost afraid to be happy?”
“What do yeh mean?”
“Business is going well. We’ve made some great improvements. Helen and Susan and I seem to be getting along. And then there’s you and me.”
“So?”
“So I finally feel I have some control over my life. It’s not perfect, but it’s getting closer. I never expected that when I left Boston. Now I have a place where I think I might belong. And I have you. At least for now.”
“Fer as long as you want.”
Acknowledgments
I’ve been visiting Ireland, and West Cork in particular, for more than twenty years, and now I own a home there. But even before I put down roots, I was on a friendly basis with many of the local residents, quite a few of whom turned out to be relatives of some sort. What’s more, they could explain how we were related, which often went back several generations. It was clear from the beginning that memories are long in rural Ireland.
The people there love to talk, but they are careful about sharing information. It’s a small country, and where past events have had unhappy outcomes, they are reluctant to talk about them, especially with people they don’t know well. In a way you have to earn their trust, and having the surname Connolly, and knowing which branch of the family I come from, has been a big plus. And by listening carefully, I’ve learned a lot about the area and its people.
While this story is fictional, many elements are true. There are many fairy forts in the region, and they’re still a bit mysterious (and they’re not to be confused with stone circles, which are much fewer). Nobody’s quite sure what they were intended for—cattle pens? Protection from marauding Vikings? Yet they have survived for centuries, and local farmers still treat them with respect and mostly leave them alone. Most scholars will agree that they were not burial places, but many raths still remain to be explored.
I’ve joked that in Ireland, family members either left the country because of the Great Famine in the nineteenth century for American or Australia (I can claim some of each), never to return, or they stayed on the same land where their families had lived for centuries, and they’re still there. And family stories were passed down by storytelling rather than in writing. I’ve had an old woman tell me that a Connolly great uncle of mine used to stable his horse behind the pub I write about. Another local woman once handed me a baby picture of my father, born in 1919, which I had never seen. The past is still treasured there.
My protagonist, Maura Donovan, arrived in Ireland knowing little about her Irish family, and readers may have wondered why I didn’t explain her background. Now I can, because Maura has earned the trust of those who remember her family there and have welcomed her as one of their own.
Yes, this is a murder mystery, and more than one man died. But only a few people have known all the facts surrounding those deaths, which have remained hidden for years.
I need to thank all the people who have welcomed me to County Cork, and all the friends and relatives I have met by pure chance. My Irish family has grown substantially since I’ve been traveling there. Former garda Tony McCarthy (now retired) gets a special thanks, because he has shared a wealth of stories and more than a few hints about some less well-known events, without betraying any confidences. And it has been a joy to watch S
am McNicholl take the old pub, Connolly’s of Leap, that his father and mother made successful, and raise it to a new level (details of which I’ve borrowed shamelessly, but he doesn’t mind. And I can’t wait to see the new pizza oven!).
Also available by Sheila Connolly
County Cork Mysteries
The Lost Traveller
Tied Up With a Bow
Many a Twist
Cruel Winter
A Turn for the Bad
An Early Wake
Scandal in Skibbereen
Buried in a Bog
Victorian Village Mysteries
Killer in the Carriage House
Murder at the Mansion
Orchard Mysteries
Nipped in the Bud
A Late Frost
Seeds of Deception
A Gala Event
Picked to Die
Golden Malicious
Sour Apples
Bitter Harvest
A Killer Crop
Red Delicious Death
Rotten to the Core
One Bad Apple
Museum Mysteries
Dead End Street
Privy to the Dead
Razing the Dead
Monument to the Dead
Fire Engine Dead
Let’s Play Dead
Fundraising the Dead
Relatively Dead Mysteries
Revealing the Dead
Search for the Dead
Watch for the Dead
Defending the Dead
Seeing the Dead
Relatively Dead
Author Biography
Sheila Connolly is the New York Times bestselling, Anthony and Agatha Award-nominated author of over thirty titles, including the Museum mysteries, the Orchard mysteries, and the County Cork mysteries, in addition to the Relatively Dead paranormal romance e-series, the standalone books Once She Knew, a romantic suspense, and Reunion with Death, a traditional mystery set in Tuscany, as well as a number of short stories in various anthologies. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband and three cats and visits Ireland as often as she can. This is her eighth County Cork mystery.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Sheila Connolly
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-239-3
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-64385-240-9
Cover design by Bruce Emmett
Book design by Jennifer Canzone
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
Crooked Lane Books
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New York, NY 10001
First Edition: January 2020
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