The Lost Traveller

by Sheila Connolly

  “I’m sorry to hear that. All I can tell you is that we’ve not misplaced any guests, and all our staff is accounted for, so the poor man didn’t come from here. I’m sorry that’s not much help to you.”

  Maura laughed. “Just be glad you don’t have to deal with any more deaths here.”

  “God willing! It was nice to see you again, Maura, and we owe Rose a good meal. Let’s try to set a date.”

  “I’d like that. She keeps telling me I have a lot to learn about food.”

  Maura drove back to Leap feeling encouraged, not that she had solved anything. But she’d started the ball rolling—in two places in one day!—and she might have found a source for secondhand kitchen equipment if they decided to go forward with serving food. Was she reluctant out of fear of failing, or was she simply being a cautious business owner? Rose was doing all the right things, starting with learning cooking, the business side, and how to promote, all at once. She was really a special kid, and selfishly Maura hoped she would stay on at Sullivan’s. But she wouldn’t hold her back if Rose got a better offer. Even if that left her even more shorthanded.

  Mick looked up from the newspaper he was scanning when she walked in. “Have I missed anything?” she asked.

  “I’ve guided one lost tourist toward Skibbereen. She didn’t buy anything. How’d yer meetin’ go?”

  “Siobhan’s going to keep an eye out for likely candidates, but even she admits that a lot of kids are leaving the area, either for school or to find work in someplace more exciting. At least I’m getting the word out that we need staff. I can’t think of anything more to do at the moment.”

  “Yeh might look into foreign students at one or another uni. If they’re in a regular program, they can get work permits for the summer months. Of course there’s paperwork involved. But yeh might find an American or two who thinks it would be interestin’ to work in an Irish pub fer a short while.”

  “Assuming I knew any American students back in Boston to ask,” she said. It always depressed her to admit how few people she had known there. “What about refugees?”

  Mick shook his head. “We take fewer than most countries, legally. I don’t know the numbers for those who arrive but never apply. There’s those who want to resettle here, or are looking fer asylum, but again, the numbers aren’t large, and few end up in Cork.”

  “Mick, you’re depressing me even more. And say we found one of those few refugees who wanted to stay around here and work at Sullivan’s for minimum wage—would they fit in? Or would our customers have a problem with them just because they’re foreign?”

  “How’m I to answer that? How many outsiders have yeh seen in here?”

  “I don’t know! Is there any other group I haven’t thought of?” She wondered if she should bring up the Travellers, but from her short conversation with Peter she had the idea that they didn’t want to stay long in any one place, much less behind the bar in a pub. And she’d also heard that there were still plenty of Irish people who didn’t trust them. “I guess our only choice is to keep working here until we drop.”

  “And who would yeh leave the place to?” Mick asked.

  “I … don’t know. What happens if I don’t leave it to anyone? What’s the law?”

  “I’d guess they have to find a relative of a sort.”

  “What if there aren’t any?”

  “Yeh’ve a mother, do you not? And a half sister and half brother?”

  “I guess. But would any of them want this place, and the cottage?”

  “Maura, that’s a question you need to ask yerself. This place is yours, free and clear. So’s the cottage. Yeh can do whatever yeh want with it. Or have ’em sold when yeh’re gone and give the money to the Save the Whales fund or such a thing.”

  “Maybe I’ll ask Harry what I should do. Or maybe I could leave everything to his son, since I don’t have kids.”

  “Yeh’re not so old—it could still happen.”

  “Would you want the place?”

  He looked startled at the question. “I’d never given it any thought. Yeh know full well I’ve been takin’ my life a day at a time fer a while now. I’ve made no plans fer the future. Surely there’s someone who’d want it more than me. Like young Henry, as you say.” He straightened up and started lining up glasses behind the bar, a fraction of an inch at a time. “There’s no need to decide today, is there now? Things can change. But it’s good to have a plan somewhere fer others to follow, if need be.”

  Maura sighed. She’d done the right thing and put out feelers for employees, but there seemed to be few around and available. Now Mick was telling her she should plan for her death. And all that came after finding a body within sight of the pub. Maybe she should go to church and pray that things turned around soon. Or dance around a prehistoric stone circle, with the same prayer. Whatever might work.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Friday morning Maura arrived at Sullivan’s early, to make sure everything would be ready for the evening. Even though they’d been hosting musical events for a number of months now, she still got nervous about the details. She was surprised to find Rose waiting for her. “You’re here early,” Maura commented, shutting the door behind her. Opening time was still an hour away.

  “Oh, Maura, I’ve made a stupid, stupid mistake,” Rose said, near tears.

  Maura struggled to think of what Rose might have done that had made her so upset. “And I need to know?”

  “Well, yes, because it’s about tonight, see, and the online booking page I set up.”

  “You forgot to put up the announcement? You put the wrong date?”

  “No, neither. I put the wrong price fer the tickets.”

  “What are we asking?”

  “Well, this is a pretty good band, and they’ve got a new recording coming out, and they said they might bring advance copies. So we decided to charge twenty-five euros, right?”

  Maura honestly couldn’t remember—she left all those details to Rose and Mick. “Sounds right. What’s the problem?”

  “What’s on the order page says five euros. Which is a bloomin’ bargain fer these guys.”

  “And we sold out? Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Sure and we sold out fast. But you know how it goes. There’s always those who show up hoping there’ll be a few tickets held back, or a batch of people think they can sneak or charm their way in. And these lads will draw all of those, fer sure. We’ll be swamped here—but we won’t be makin’ the money we should off ’em.”

  Now things were beginning to make sense. “Well, like you said, we sold out. We won’t make as much money as we could, but I can live with that. So why are you so worried?”

  Rose swallowed. “Well, the place will be overflowin’, and there’ll be people standing around, waitin’ and hopin’ to get in to see the band at such a great price, and there’s only the three of us to manage the crowd and serve the drinks. We’ve nothin’ like a bouncer, if that’s what you call it. One or another of us will have to turn people away, which is always hard. Worse, we’re goin’ to have to keep the drinks flowin’, and there’s the two bars to cover, front and back.” Rose waved her hand. “Maybe I’m makin’ too much of it, but I can see it happenin’ and it could be a disaster.”

  Maura swallowed a hysterical giggle. Who was it who had said ‘all publicity is good publicity’? How would that work if they had a riot and it spilled out onto the streets—correction, the one and only street—of Leap? “I think I’m beginning to see the problem. You have any ideas what to do about it? Do we honor the ticket reservations, even if the cost is wrong? Do we try to turn people away? Do we tell the gardaí so we’ll have some outside help?”

  Rose was looking like the teenager she was. “I don’t know!” she wailed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t read over what I’d put in—I was rushing. And now there’ll be a mess tonight.”

  With a sellout or even an overflow crowd, and only three people to manage it. Yes, they did need help. B
ut from where? “I’m going to call Sean and see what he says.” It was the first thing she could think of. And also the only thing, at the moment.

  She found her phone and called the garda station, and luckily she found Sean was in. She explained quickly what the problem was, but she wasn’t encouraged when he said, “I’ll do what I can, but we’re short a coupla men—on summer holiday, yeh know. One or another of us can drive past now and then, but there’s not enough of us to put a man outside yer door. Unless they start breakin’ each other’s heads.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. You don’t need to apologize, Sean. We’ll just have to handle it. But if you know anybody with bartending skills, send them our way, okay?”

  “I’ll do that, Maura. I’ll probably see yeh sometime tonight.”

  Rose had been watching anxiously. “No help from Sean?”

  Maura shook her head. “They’re shorthanded as it is. We’ll just have to do the best we can. And maybe pray for rain. Or a flood. We should put Mick on the door to check for tickets. If these players are as popular as you say they are, the crowd would probably trample you or me without even noticing.”

  Rose looked near tears. “I am so sorry, Maura. I was tryin’ to do too much, and not payin’ enough attention.”

  “Been there, done that. These things happen, Rose—don’t beat yourself up over it. Do we have any stun guns in the place?”

  “What?” Rose looked confused.

  “Never mind—I’m joking. They’re probably not legal. We’ll just have to sweet-talk the crowd into behaving. I haven’t been paying a lot of attention myself—how do we handle the crowd once the music starts? I mean, do any people leave so others can fit in? Or does everyone who gets in stay until closing?”

  “Once they’re past the door, they’ll stay to the bitter end. And past, if yeh’d let them.”

  “We’d better make sure we watch all the doors. We don’t want people to try to sneak in.” Exceeding their occupancy limit wasn’t too big a deal if it was only a handful of people, but if people got trapped or an accident happened, it could be disastrous.

  “And which one of us is goin’ to be in two places at the same time?” Rose demanded.

  “Oh. Right.” Too many doors, too few people. Where could she look for help? Old Billy would no doubt volunteer, but he wouldn’t be able to hold off a herd of young men determined to get in. But maybe she could ask him where she could find some volunteers.

  Mick walked in on the two of them. “What?” he asked immediately.

  “Uh, we may have a problem about tonight,” Maura said, and explained the situation. She was dismayed when he looked troubled. Had she been secretly hoping he’d come up with a magic solution? “You have any ideas?” she asked when she’d wrapped up.

  “I can’t say that I do. Give me some time to think. Yeh said yeh’ve already called the gardaí?”

  “First thing. They don’t have anyone to spare.”

  “Anyone else we can borrow fer the worst of it?”

  “Mick, it’s Friday night in tourist season—they’re all going to be busy. And I guess if we lock the doors and turn out the lights, the crowd who’s made the trip all the way here to see the band will probably start throwing rocks at the windows and anyone who’s in their way.”

  “Yeh have a point, not that I’ve seen such a thing in Leap.”

  “Can we move the whole event out to the street?”

  “Not without a permit from the gardaí, and I wouldn’t hold my breath on gettin’ one this late.”

  “So how on earth to we get the word out not to come tonight?”

  Mick shook his head. “Yeh can’t.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Rose said again. “It’s my fault.”

  “Rose, I forgive you,” Maura said impatiently. “We forgive you. Mistakes happen. We’ll just have to muddle through somehow. Maybe we could call your father in?”

  “He’s off with Judith at a cattle fair.”

  Maura took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “All right, we’ll do what we can. Mick, how are we fixed for supplies?”

  “Good enough. These folk don’t come to eat, but they’ll be drinking. But the kegs are full, and there’s no room below to bring in more now.”

  “When’s the band coming?”

  “Suppertime, I think. You want to tell them to play slow hymns and keep people calm?” Mick was actually smiling now.

  “That would probably cause a riot too. Are they a fast and loud kind of band?”

  Rose nodded. “Mostly.”

  Maura thought for a moment. “I suppose the best we can do is tell those who come that this is a gift—the reduced price, that is—and we’ll do it again, but only if they promise to keep things to a dull roar.”

  “Yeh mean, like we planned it this way?” Mick asked. When Maura nodded, he said, “Brilliant.”

  Maura was out of ideas. “Then let’s get this place ready. And get any breakables out of the way.”

  The rest of the day was ordinary, but to Maura it felt like the calm before the storm. No, not just any storm—a New England nor’easter, or maybe a hurricane. Like those times when the sky used to get dark, and then the wind would pick up, and then things would get really bad. Funny—every time she looked out the windows now, she was surprised to see that the sun was shining.

  Billy came in just before noon, which was late for him. Maura took his pint over to him and explained what was happening. “Did anything like this ever happen before?”

  “What, a large crowd? Sure, though it’s been years. Some nights there’d be a big match on the telly, and people would be packed in like sardines. And if their team won … well, Mick—not your Mick but my old friend—would take names, and anybody who made trouble wouldn’t be allowed back fer a while. Worked most of the time.”

  “You think I’m making too much of this?”

  “Nah, yeh’re just bein’ careful, as yeh should be. It’ll all work out. But I might stay in me own place tonight. I’m not a big fan of the music these days, and I’d probably end up with a rugger player sittin’ on me lap.”

  “I can’t say that I blame you, Billy.”

  Billy left in the late afternoon, when people started coming for the music. The bad news was, they’d have a long wait; the good news, they’d be buying pints for all of that wait. Maura did know that if they got too drunk too soon, she could call the gardaí to remove them, under the law. Still, it was nice to see the old place fill up with happy people. She didn’t know much about the music scene back in Boston, but she was pretty sure the guys playing here tonight weren’t looking to stir up the crowd to dangerous levels. All they had to do was look around at the place and they’d see that—Sullivan’s simply wasn’t that kind of place. Maura was glad they’d reinforced the balcony that ran around the edge of the back room when they’d started with the music—and now it could hold a good crowd.

  It was close to nine when things started to heat up; the band was in the kitchen, tuning up, and the show was supposed to start around ten, although Irish time was kind of flexible, Maura had found. It was hard to get through the two main rooms, and she had Rose covering the bar in the back room while she and Mick handled the front. Anyone who wanted a drink was going to have to fight their way to one or the other bar, because there was no way to take a drink to them. Just before ten, Mick stationed himself by the front door to check tickets, and Maura could hear the sound of electric guitars coming from the back room. And then the crowd thickened and clotted, and she felt a stab of fear. Could they handle this? Why had she ever thought they could? They needed more staff and there weren’t any available.

  For a while she was kept busy filling pints, taking money, and trying to keep people moving from the bar to the back, which was filling fast. When the band produced a recognizable chord, the crowd thinned briefly as everyone surged toward the back room. Maura took the moment to wash some glasses, and when she looked up, she was surprised to see a stranger at th
e other end of the bar, filling pints with a practiced hand. Clearly he knew what he was doing. About her age, dark-haired, dressed like everyone else in the crowd. And smiling. He was enjoying the hubbub. He looked over at her and smiled. “You’d be Maura, the owner?”

  “I am. Who are you?”

  “I’m Niall. Looked like you could use some help.”

  “You’ve done this before.”

  “That I have.”

  “We can talk later,” Maura told him. The crowd surged forward again, and Maura went back to filling glasses. Only now she could manage a smile now and then, thanks to this stranger. She could get his story later, but right now she needed him right where he was, doing exactly what he was doing. Maybe he was an angel, but if he could count out the right change, she wasn’t going to ask.

  Closing time came and went, and Maura gave what was left of the crowd a generous half hour to empty their pints before herding them toward the doors. Mick took over that task, and she chatted to the band for a couple of minutes and handed over their pay for the night’s work, including their cut from the take at the door—or more like what they’d expected to make before Rose’s mix-up. They seemed tired but pleased with themselves. Once they’d taken themselves and their equipment out the door, Maura stopped to talk to Rose, who was cleaning up the bar in back. “How’d it go at this end?”

  “Good,” Rose said. “I guess we were worried fer nothin’. Who was the guy behind the bar in front?”

  “I was going to ask you. He just kind of showed up and started in. Did a good job, too.”

  “Did he make off with cash?”

  “No. I checked, and I think Mick was keeping an eye on him. Do you know him?”

  “No, but he seemed a bit familiar, like I’d seen him somewhere, but not to talk to. Maybe it’ll come to me later. I’m knackered.”

  “Go on home. Or crash here if you want. The mess will still be here in the morning.”

  “There’s an old stuffed chair upstairs—that’ll do me fer now. ’Night, Maura.”