“What was he doin’ here?” Mick asked.
“Hey, you want me to figure out everything all at once?” Maura protested. “This is a start.”
“It is that,” Mick agreed, and raised his glass.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As the evening wore on, Maura’s original excitement about their discovery of the dead man’s identity wore off, and she started gnawing at the next set of questions: what was this Paddy doing in Leap, or more likely Skibbereen; who had killed him; and why had he been dumped here? Maybe someone in Limerick had wanted him dead and killed him there, but why drag the body down this far? There were plenty of other places to get rid of a body (funny how often she found herself thinking or even saying that). Or had he come on his own and gotten killed in Leap? But why? Something personal? Drugs? Smuggling? Was his gang involved in those, or something else? What else was there?
People?
She felt a tickle of excitement. As the world had become more troubled, especially in countries she was now closer to geographically than she had ever been before, she had heard that there were more and more immigrants around. But they weren’t exactly visible, which she assumed was their choice—they wanted or needed to stay out of sight, or maybe they were just passing through. The problem there was, if they wanted to stay below the radar, they couldn’t get real jobs, except off the record, like farm jobs. But Maura knew personally that there weren’t enough workers to go around at the moment, not in what she would have called service jobs, like waitressing or washing dishes. Or child care, which probably required more detailed documentation.
Had the Limerick gangs moved beyond drugs into smuggling illegals into the country? Who could she ask? Sean, maybe, but Sergeant Ryan would probably know more, after his time working in Limerick. But it was kind of late to run a vague idea past them—it could wait until morning. Billy? No, he didn’t get out much anymore, as he had said, so he wouldn’t notice a rise in the number of unfamiliar faces on the streets. Which left Mick.
When the pub had cleared out (early closing night, with nobody interested in drawing it out or begging for a last pint) and Rose had left, promising she’d talk to Sophie in the morning about the guy she’d been with, Maura went to him. “Mick, can I ask you a weird question?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, focusing on wiping the top of the bar. “What?
“Well, Sergeant Ryan said he recognized the man in Gillian’s drawing, right? And he knew him from Limerick, as part of a gang. But probably a kind of new member, because he didn’t have the ink yet.”
“So?” Mick asked.
“So he’s new to the gang, or new to the area, okay? Now, when he joined up, what would the leaders do with him?”
“Yeh’re right, yeh’re askin’ odd questions. Whaddaya mean, ‘do’ with him? A ceremony? A swearing in, like?”
“No, not that. Where would they put him to work?”
“Ah. Depends on his experience, right?”
“What if he didn’t have much? Look, we’ve seen a little of the basic stuff—smuggling, drugs, that kind of thing. But is that all they do?”
Mick gave up any pretense of cleaning, leaned his elbows on the bar, and looked at Maura. “Yeh’re thinkin’ I know the answer to this?”
“No, but you must hear stuff from other people. Look, I could have given you a quick rundown of which bad guys managed what back in Boston, and this place is a lot smaller. So what were they into here?”
“Like yeh said, drugs and smuggling, mostly—pretty standard stuff. In the bad old days it might’ve been guns. What’re yeh lookin’ for?”
“Well, you know what trouble we’ve been having finding any staff for this place, and Gillian’s had the same problem finding child care, even part-time. So I was thinking, maybe somebody saw an opportunity there. And the world’s been so messed up these days, and all these countries fighting each other, that somebody might have found a way to bring in people without papers and find them jobs that nobody would look too closely at. Like working on a farm. And around here, I’d guess the gardaí are pretty cool about checking papers, until somebody commits a crime.”
“Let me get this straight. Yeh’re thinkin’ the gangs of Limerick have set up some sort of people-smuggling operation, bringing the undocumented folk over here—for a fee, of course—and finding them jobs, and then letting them sink or swim?”
“Yeah, that’s about it. Only it’s kind of new. Paddy Creegan just showed up recently, but he might have brought the idea with him. We know there’s a need for workers. The guys in Limerick saw the opportunity and jumped on it.”
“Could be. Yeh should talk to the gardaí about it. But there’s a hole in the idea: why is it Paddy who’s dead? He was the guy who was makin’ it happen, according to yer idea.”
“You think I know any more than you do about how this kind of operation works? Say Paddy was bugging one of his passengers for his fee and things got out of hand.”
Mick countered quickly. “Seems like he would have demanded payment up front. I don’t think the gangs wait fer their money.”
“Good point. Maybe Paddy was doing too well, and another gang member wanted to teach him a lesson? Or wanted a cut of Paddy’s business?”
“And stabbed him with a knife, more’n once? More likely he’d have given him a beatin’ and left it at that. Paddy was no good to him or the gang if he was dead.”
“One of his passengers was angry at him? He felt cheated? Or he couldn’t find a job?” Maura was rapidly running out of logical ideas.
“Mebbe. But what was Paddy doin’ down here? If someone had come over and paid the fee, he wouldn’t think to find the man here. Maybe in Skib, but even that’s a small place compared to Limerick. What would make it worth Paddy’s while to make the trip?”
Maura felt tired. And frustrated. “Mick, I don’t know. I’m just trying to come up with any kind of idea that fits. Maybe I’m trying too hard. Here’s what we think we’ve got: Limerick gang member smuggles illegal aliens into the country, then sets them to working at low-level jobs. He probably doesn’t share his home address with them, and if they’re illegals, how’re they supposed to know how these things work here? I can’t even guess how they find him. Maybe there’s some message board somewhere. But say they contacted him somehow—what on earth would make Paddy come down here? Those aliens wouldn’t blow the whistle on him, no matter how he’d treated them, because then they’d probably get sent back to wherever they came from. So, who would be angry enough to kill Paddy, and how would he get him to come down here to do it?”
Mick smiled, if sadly. “Maura, I’ve no more idea than you do. Maybe the man has a favorite pub in Skibbereen. Sleep on it. In the mornin’, mebbe things’ll look clearer to yeh, or maybe yer ideas’ll look foolish. But there’s nothin’ to be done now, and it’s late.”
All too true, Maura thought. “So, uh, are we going home together?” She still didn’t know how to do this stupid dance with a man. Hey, Mick, you wanna do it tonight?
His mouth twitched. “Is that what yeh want?”
“What, you’re going to make me ask you? Okay, yes, that’s what I want.”
“Then I’ll drive yeh home. No use wasting the gas.”
“What a romantic thing to say!”
* * *
Monday morning, Maura woke up far too early and lay in bed starting at the ceiling and finding all the holes in her half-formed theories of the night before. Okay, gangs and illegal workers made some sense, and that was something she could confirm with one talk with Sergeant Ryan. That still left a lot of questions: How many people were involved? Where did the new arrivals go? Did they stay in West Cork or keep moving? What were the legal issues? And were those so complicated that the gardaí found it easier to look the other way?
All of which was nice and interesting, but didn’t explain what had gone wrong and resulted in a dead man in the ravine next to her pub. Had he been a “good” smuggler or a jerk? Had
he played fair with the people he brought in, or just dumped them when they got off the boat and let them fend for themselves? If that last bit was true, it was unlikely he had shared his real name with any of them, and in that case, how could anyone have found him? He was Joe Average, based on his description, and the illegals weren’t likely to walk into the nearest garda station and demand that something be done.
Which left her right back where she had started. Why was Paddy Creegan dead? Did anybody stand to gain from his death? His gang buddies? Someone who knew him? Or a total stranger he’d met when he was drinking at a pub?
Mick’s voice startled her—she hadn’t realized he was awake. “Yeh’re like a terrier after a rat, Maura O’Donovan. Yeh just don’t give up.”
“Not when it affects me directly. You don’t notice me chasing after any old criminal, do you?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Good, because I haven’t been. Look, all I want right now is a couple more employees that I can count on, at least for a while. The fact that Sullivan’s is smack in the middle of a murder investigation doesn’t make that easy. If the gardaí would wrap that up, I could go on with business as usual. I’m just trying to help.”
“I know. No one would call yeh a busybody. Yeh’re not after the excitement of it, either.”
“I’m glad you see that. So we’d better get our act together now. Remember that Rose has a class in Skib this morning. If we’re really lucky, she might get a line on finding that new bartender we need, if this girl Sophie is there.”
“So I’ll go make the coffee,” Mick said, bounding out of bed quickly. He pulled on a shirt and his jeans and headed down the stairs.
One more thing on the to-do list, Maura reflected as she listened to him bang her few pots around downstairs: sort out what this relationship was and what they wanted from it. But she wasn’t going to push it. Figure out the death of Paddy Creegan first.
They managed to arrive at Sullivan’s just before ten. There wasn’t much cleanup to take care of, since there hadn’t been much business the day before. Maura found herself staring at the picture that Gillian had asked her to hang in the pub quite a while earlier. Maura had hung it in what she thought was the busiest corner, but she realized it was kind of dark there, and it would be hard to see the image. No place for it behind the bar. What about the short wall over the bar, in front? Then people would see it as soon as they walked in—a bright splash of color. They might even ask about the artist. “Mick?” she called out. “Can you help me move Gillian’s picture? Nobody even looks at it where it is.”
He came out from the back, and Maura pointed to where she wanted it now. He looked at it and said, “There’s already a hook there. Might be somebody’s had that idea before.”
“Well, I’m not going to ask who. I just want people to see Gillian’s artwork, and maybe even think about buying it.”
“Consider it done.”
Billy came in before eleven, and he and Maura chatted for a few minutes. Maura was startled when her mobile phone rang—few people had her number. It seemed to be Rose, so Maura answered quickly. “What’s up?”
“I’m here talking with Sophie, the girl from the café? But she doesn’t have the time to come talk to you there. You think you could stop by, just fer a bit?”
“That’s fine. Where are you?”
“The café at Fields Supervalu in Skibbereen. It’s not too busy yet. Will yeh come?”
“Sure. It’s quiet here. I can be there quickly.”
“Grand!”
She smiled at Billy as she turned away. “Mick, Rose wants me to meet the girl with the bartender friend in Skibbereen like right now. Mind if I run over there?”
“Go,” he said. “I’ll handle the crowds.”
“I’ll let you know if I get caught up in something.” Maura grabbed up her keys and went out to her car. Ten minutes later she was parked in the lot behind Fields, and she came in the back way. She headed for the café in the front, overlooking the main street, and quickly saw Rose and a girl her own age sitting at a corner table. Rose saw her and waved her over.
“Maura, this is the girl I told you about, from the café. Her name’s Sophie O’Riordan. I’ve told her yeh’re lookin’ for help at the pub.”
“Hi, Sophie.” Maura held out her hand, and Sophie looked confused, then took it. “Good to meet you.” Maura took a seat.
“Yeh’re American?” Sophie asked. “Rose didn’t mention that.”
The girl’s accent was definitely Irish, although with some odd inflections. “I am. I inherited the pub in Leap last year, and I’m still learning to run the place. Are you taking classes here in town?”
“That and workin’ some hours to pay fer the classes. It’s a good place to be.”
“Do you want to be a chef?”
Sophie shrugged. “I’ve no idea. But I like the cookin’ part. Why was it yeh wanted to talk wit’ me?”
“Rose didn’t explain? Then I’ll let her tell you.”
Rose launched into a short version of the story. “Well, I messed up bookin’ the band last week and we had a flood of people, and…”
While Rose explained, Maura watched Sophie’s expression, and she saw the color leach out of Sophie’s face. Odd.
“I barely know him,” Sophie said, then stood up abruptly. “Sorry, but I have to be somewhere now. Thanks fer the coffee, Rose.” Before either Rose or Maura could answer, Sophie dashed out the front door.
“What was that all about?” Maura asked Rose.
Rose looked bewildered. “I couldn’t say, but I’d guess somethin’ scared her.”
“About the guy you saw her with?”
“Mebbe. I can’t think what else it might be.”
I might have an idea, Maura thought. No, that seemed impossibly unlikely. But still … “Rose, were you going to take the bus back to Leap? I’d offer you a ride, but I want to stop by the garda station and talk to Sean for a minute. You can wait for me if you want.”
“Shouldn’t I be at Sullivan’s?”
“When I left, Billy was the only customer. I think Mick can handle things for a bit longer.”
“Does this have to do with Sophie and the guy?”
“Maybe,” Maura said cautiously.
“Then I’ll be comin’ with yeh.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Since Maura was already parked behind the Fields market, she and Rose walked the block to the garda station. In the tiny vestibule there, Maura asked, “Is Sean Murphy here?”
“Hi, Maura,” the officer behind the desk greeted her. “Yeh’re lucky to catch him. I’ll let him know yeh’re here.”
Maura and Rose studied the assorted posters and announcements tacked on the walls while they waited for Sean, who appeared only a couple of minutes later. “Is this official business, or did the two of yiz just want to pay a call?” he asked, smiling.
“A bit of each, maybe,” Maura told him. “It might become official sometime, but right now it’s just a couple of questions about … things.”
That seemed to make sense to Sean. “It’s a fine day—let’s sit outside somewhere.” He led the way out of the building and pointed them to the stone wall bordering the property. “Will that do?”
“Sure. This shouldn’t take long, and we both need to get back to Leap. Let me just throw this out there: what do you know about smuggling illegal or undocumented aliens into West Cork?”
Sean stared at her a moment, then burst out laughing. “If it was anybody else, I’d think yeh were pullin’ me leg, but since it’s the two of yiz, I’ll listen to yer questions. What do yeh want to know, and why?”
“Let me lay this out, and then you can comment, okay?” Maura proceeded to outline her early-morning thinking, about the man Sergeant Ryan had identified as a low-level Limerick gang member, and how he had ended up dead in Leap. “I mean, I thought about all the other crimes you’ve had around here, and that was one we’ve never talked about.”
Sean nodded. “The sergeant would be the man to ask. We’ve never had anyone come to the garda station here to complain about illegals. But why do yeh think this girl at the café is involved, and the guy you saw her with? Rose, was this your idea?”
Rose swallowed before answering. “Look, all I wanted to do was find the guy who took over the bar at Sullivan’s to ask him whether he’d like a bartending job. And Sophie was the only person I know who seemed to know him, not that I know her well—I only saw them talkin’ together. So I got Sophie and Maura together this mornin’, but when we mentioned the man I saw with her—whose name may be Niall—Sophie seemed to get scared and left in a hurry. Which made us wonder if she was hidin’ something?”
“Is that the way it seemed to you as well, Maura?” Sean asked.
Maura nodded firmly. “Yes. The three of us were having a nice chat, but when I asked about him, Sophie turned white and left fast. I know this is a real long shot, but if she’s so anxious to hide him, maybe she has a good reason. Either he’s doing something criminal, or he shouldn’t be here. And maybe she shouldn’t either. What happens if one or both of them is actually illegal?”
“Yeh mean, if yeh ever find them again?” Sean said. “Depends. I don’t know the details, but there are different choices, accordin’ on the circumstances. Let’s take this one step at a time. Why are yeh so interested in the pair?”
“Because I need another bartender!” Maura said. “And he seems to be a good one. But that’s the only reason I was looking for him. When I saw him at the pub, he seemed like a great guy, and he was good at the job, but then he disappeared and it turned out that he never gave his name to anyone. Heck, I’d be happy to pay him for his time that night, if I could find him. But the whole thing started me thinking: I know there are jobs available because I’ve got a couple open, and I’ve already figured out that there are not enough people to go around. So it seemed logical to me that it would be a good business for someone to bring people in from somewhere else, if there were jobs waiting. But it’s illegal, right? Assuming the people coming in don’t have the right papers or are criminals or terrorists or something?”
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