“And from there you made the jump to yer dead man? That he was killed by someone here illegally?”
“Maybe by someone he brought in, and things didn’t work out well. Why was a man from Limerick here in this area? Why Leap? Now that we know this Paddy Creegan was in a gang, it makes it even more suspicious. Someone killed him, and it wasn’t an accident. Someone dumped him in a place he didn’t belong and made sure it wouldn’t be easy to identify him. So maybe our mystery bartender could tell you something about that death, if Paddy had something to do with bringing him here. I mean, why wouldn’t he wait around to see if he could pick up some cash that night, just for helping out, unless he didn’t want to be seen?” Maura tried to read Sean’s expression. “Look, I’ve told you my idea. I admit it sounds ridiculous. You can tell me I’m crazy, and I’ll go back to work. But there seems to be something odd going on here, and it might all be connected. And I really need to prove that this death had nothing to do with me or with Sullivan’s, and to find some more staff. What do you think?”
Sean sighed. “I think it might, maybe, possibly mean somethin’. I think I need to take this to the sergeant. If he laughs in me face, that’s the end of it. Do yeh know where to find the girl, Rose?”
Rose shook her head. “I’ve only seen her at the café in town here. And now we might have scared her away and she won’t even go back there. Maybe Sinéad there has some information on her. Or you could ask the other girls, if they know her better than I do.”
“I’ll see what the sergeant says, and we might give that a try.” Sean stood up. “Thank you for bringin’ this to my attention, ladies,” he said formally. “I’ll let yeh know if anything comes of it.”
“That’s all we wanted, Sean,” Maura said, standing up herself. “And if you find our bartender guy, lock him up until I can talk to him, will you? I want to hire him before he disappears again.”
“Yeh’re jokin’, I take it?” Sean asked.
“Of course I am, Sean. I just want to know where to find him,” Maura told him.
Sean smiled. “Then I’ll do my best.”
Sean went back to work, and Maura and Rose walked toward the parking lot. “Well, that was kind of a bust,” Maura said. Had she expected more? Hoped, maybe.
“I know it seems odd, that all these pieces should fit together somehow,” Rose said slowly. “Are we that hard up for ideas?”
“About the murder? Or about finding staff?” Maura thought for a moment. “Look, here’s what I think. I’ve gotten used to everybody knowing everybody else around here. Now suddenly we’ve got a dead man that nobody around here knew, and an experienced bartender that nobody had seen before, who appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared without leaving his name. If he was just visiting, wouldn’t he have stayed to talk, or come back the next day? Why did he disappear so fast? So since we have two things that happened that involved two strangers, I kind of want to lump them together, you know? Because almost everyone else is accounted for.”
Rose nodded. “I see what yeh’re sayin’, but I don’t know what yeh can do about it. Yeh’ve given what yeh know to Sean and he can handle it. If he talks with Sinéad, maybe she can point him in the right direction.”
Maura sighed. “You’re right, I know. So we’d better get back to Sullivan’s and hope another bartender walks through the door.”
“In yer dreams!” Rose responded, smiling.
Nothing appeared to have changed when they walked into Sullivan’s: Mick was behind the counter, Billy was dozing in his chair, and otherwise the place was empty. Maura tried to convince herself that that was normal for a midday Monday. but she wasn’t sure she believed herself. Maybe she was kidding herself about this whole murder/illegals/gang stuff, hoping there would be some easy answer that would make everybody feel better and then business would pick up. Maybe she was bored silly and was making up stories to keep her mind busy.
“Did yeh talk with Sean?” Mick asked.
“We did. He might have taken us seriously. Maybe. He said he’d talk to the sergeant. I’m not going to hold my breath. Did I miss anything?”
Mick shook his head. “It’s been dead quiet.”
It stayed that way until midafternoon, when Maura looked up to see Sinéad storming through the front door. She looked angry. Why?
“We need to talk,” she told Maura. “Someplace private?”
“The back room,” Maura said, and led the way.
Once they were there, Maura shut the door. “What’s the problem?”
“You sent the gardaí to my place.”
Maura wondered why this bothered the woman so much. Was she hiding something too? She simply didn’t like police? “Not exactly. I’m looking for one of the young women who works at your place, because I want to ask her how to find somebody she knows. Rose and I met her at Fields earlier today. When I asked her about him, she got panicky and left in a hurry, which I thought was odd. I happened to talk with Sean Murphy right after that, mostly about the body that was found outside here, and we were talking about people who are here and working illegally. I wasn’t pointing a finger at you. I only told him that Rose had met Sophie at your place.” Maura watched as a variety of expressions crossed Sinéad’s face.
“You’re not working for the gardaí, then?”
“No. I know some of them, Sean in particular, because I’ve gotten mixed up with a couple of crimes, but I’m not a spy or a mole or whatever you want to call it. Like I told you, all I want is to hire a couple of part-timers to work here, before we all wear ourselves into the ground. You should understand that.”
Sinéad’s shoulders seemed to loosen up just a bit. “I overreacted. Look, can you keep what I tell you to yourself?”
“As long as it doesn’t involve the dead man, sure.”
Sinéad hesitated, then went on. “I’ve had the same problems with staff as you’re having now. For me, summers aren’t bad because the kids are out of school, but during term I’m always scrabbling to cover the shifts. So, yes, maybe I’ve hired some people without demanding to see their papers, as do others around here. I pay them in cash. As long as they can do the job, I don’t ask too many questions. You must know how hard waitressing can be, and if someone is willing to work hard, that’s all I need.”
“I can understand that. How do you find these people?”
“Mostly word of mouth. Somebody knows somebody and says, ‘Go talk to the chef at the café.’”
“What’s Sophie’s story?” Maura asked.
“She’s Irish born, but there’s something messed up about her documents—she hasn’t told me much. She’s been in the country maybe six months and worked for me for the last couple. She’s got some talent as a cook, so I let her sit in on a class—that’s where she met your Rose.”
“Where does she live?”
“That I can’t tell you. Like I said, I pay her in cash. There’s no paperwork. She comes in on time and she does her job. She’s dropped a few hints that she’s had a couple of other jobs since she got here and they didn’t all work out well.”
“And the man?”
Sinéad shook her head. “He doesn’t work for me, and I don’t know him. I’ve seen him outside waiting for Sophie now and then, but that’s all.”
Sinéad seemed to have calmed down, and Maura thought her story made sense. Should she go the next step? Maura wondered. Well, why not? “Look, I told you I’m not working with the gardaí, but you must have heard about the body that was found right out there just a week ago.” Maura waved vaguely toward the ravine outside. “I think it’s made people nervous to come here, so my business is down. Now, please don’t spread this around, but the gardaí have more or less identified the dead guy as a gang member from Limerick, but there’s no reason why he should be here in Leap, much less be found dead here. The new sergeant in Skib is looking into his connections with Limerick. But if it turns out he’s not involved with drugs, maybe he was here for another reason, like smuggling peop
le.”
Sinéad cocked her head at Maura. “Interesting way of thinking you’ve got. Which is either good or bad as far as figuring out why he’s dead. Could be something to do with his Limerick mates. Could be something with the people he’s brought in, if that’s what he’s been doing—someone thought they’d gotten cheated. Or it could be personal—an old enemy who showed up out of nowhere and things got out of hand after that.”
Maura had to smile. “I think you’ve got the hang of this. Look, I don’t want to make trouble for anyone, and I’m not into sticking to the letter of the law. I only wanted to find this one guy, because he knows his stuff, and he stepped right in and helped out without being asked. If—still an if—he’s not quite legal, where do these people stay? Are there people who rent to them? Or to one of them, and then the rest pile in? Do they get together somewhere to talk about what jobs are open or who’s looking?”
Sinéad was shaking her head again. “I don’t usually bother myself with things like that. I’ve got more than enough work cooking to keep me busy. They do the work, they get paid, and that’s it. But I’ll tell you, it’s summer and the weather’s as good as it’s going to get. They may be sleeping rough.”
“You mean outside?”
“Yes. But that’s only my guess. There’s often some kind soul that gives them shelter—maybe an old barn or cottage that nobody’s using. These illegals, they’re good people mostly—not criminals or beggars. They want to work and pay their way, and they had to get away from something bad back where they came from.”
“If the gardaí or someone else finds out you’re hiring illegals, do you get in trouble?”
“It depends. On a lot of things. It’s not simple.” She stood up quickly. “I’ve got to get back for dinner prep. And I’ve told you just about all I know. I don’t want to know too much.”
“I can understand what you mean, and thank you for being honest with me. This is all new to me, and I must sound stupid. I’m happy to give a job to someone who needs it. Although I have to say that a pub on the main street is pretty public, and the gardaí are in and out a lot because we’re friends, and it’s hard to hide behind the bar when you see them coming. Someone here illegally might feel kind of overexposed.”
“I can see that,” Sinéad said. “Look, I’ll have a word with Sophie and tell her you’re no threat to her or her friend. Assuming I ever see her again.”
“Thank you. And if you hear of anybody else with some basic experience, who’s looking for a job, keep me in mind.”
“I’ll do that. By the way, that Rose of yours has real talent in the kitchen.”
Maura smiled. “I know. I’m worried I’ll lose her too before much longer. Let me walk you out.”
When she turned from saying good-bye to Sinéad, she found both Rose and Mick staring at her. “What was that in aid of?” Rose asked.
“Seems that Sean went to talk to her about hiring illegals and she took it the wrong way.”
“Is she?” Mick asked abruptly. “Hirin’ them, I mean.”
“She said that if someone comes in and can do the job, she doesn’t ask questions about their papers. But we talked about the hiring scene in general, and she knows there are illegals looking for work. Mostly they hear about a job from someone else and just show up—looks like most don’t have anything like a fixed address. She said she’d ask Sophie about her mystery friend, now that she knows I don’t want to turn anybody in or make trouble. Assuming Sophie goes back to work at all. But there’s probably some network and they can find each other. So, I guess it’s back to business as usual. Unless you happen to know where illegal immigrants are hiding out in this part of Cork?”
“That I don’t,” Mick admitted, “but I’ll keep my eyes open. There’s plenty of places to stay out of sight.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The day passed somehow. Maura went home alone at the end of it, and Mick went his own way. That didn’t trouble her; she didn’t feel like she was very good company at the moment. Had Mick had any idea about the presence of illegals in the area? She wasn’t sure. He’d been kind of operating on autopilot for a few years, and maybe he hadn’t been paying attention. Besides, during Old Mick’s time, she had the feeling that business had amounted to Old Mick’s friends, with few outsiders coming into the dark and none-too-clean pub. No need for extra staff, then. Or maybe the arrival of the illegals had been more recent than any of that.
She ate a quick breakfast, cleaned up, and was heading for her car when she remembered Sinéad’s comments about sleeping rough. She couldn’t say she’d noticed anybody bedding down in a hedgerow in the time she’d been in Ireland, but if they’d wanted to remain hidden, they would have been careful not to be seen. But where would they go? Plenty of open land in West Cork, but much of it was filled with cattle, who might not like one or more strangers sleeping in the middle of their food supply. Not too much in the way of stands of trees for cover in a lot of places. A few abandoned buildings, certainly, but most were so tumbledown that they wouldn’t provide much protection from rain and wind. Maybe they crashed in vacant houses? There must be a fair number of holiday homes around. Maybe there was some unseen network to get the word out that the house on whichever lane was empty and looked like it might be for a while. And so the squatters moved in. Again, she hadn’t heard much about that, but she hadn’t been paying attention. Maybe she should, since there were a couple of long-vacant houses just up the hill from hers.
She debated about asking Bridget what she knew, but she had a feeling that this was something that had begun to happen about the time Bridget had stopped getting out much. But what about Peter and his family? She hadn’t noticed the night before whether the caravan was still there, but she could look. She didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of stopping a random Traveller—assuming she could identify one, which was doubtful—and asking what they knew about where the illegals were staying at the moment. But Peter should know, and she thought it would be safe to ask Peter, and he might give her the truth. Or not—he didn’t really know her, and he had no reason to trust her, apart from Bridget’s friendship. Still, it was worth a try. Her mind made up, Maura walked quickly down the lane. Yes, the caravan was still where it had been. Nan and her children were outside stringing up wet laundry, and Nan looked up warily when she saw Maura approaching, which made her sad. Did she look like a threat to the family? The children ignored her.
“Hi, Nan, is it? I’m Maura, remember? Is Peter around?”
“Inside,” Nan said tersely, nodding toward the caravan. “I’ll fetch him. Kids, come on—we’ll finish this later.” The three of them disappeared inside, and a moment later Peter came out, looking cautious.
“Maura? Is everything all right? Bridget?”
“Sure, everything’s fine. I just had a question and I thought maybe you could help.”
“If I can,” Peter said, still sounding hesitant. “Will yeh walk with me?”
“Sure.” He doesn’t want his wife to hear? Or is he just naturally secretive?
He led the way halfway up the hill and gestured toward a stone wall. “Why don’t we sit?”
Maura complied. When they were both settled, she dove straight in. “I’m trying to find the guy who filled in behind the bar at Sullivan’s last week, the night we had the music and more than two hundred people showed up. He gave his name as Niall and that’s all, and he disappeared before closing. I’d like to find him and ask if he wants a job.”
Peter turned his head to look at her. “And why do yeh need me to find him?”
“I’m not asking you to find him, just to tell me where to look. See, Rose saw the guy before he disappeared, and then she saw him again in Skibbereen with a girl she takes a class with, but she couldn’t catch up with them. So today she fixed it so she and the girl—Sophie’s her name—and I could have coffee in town and see if she could tell us where to find him. But when we got around to talking about that, she got spooked and left in a hu
rry.”
Peter’s expression gave nothing away.
He was certainly careful, but Maura pressed on. “Well, you must know about the dead man outside Sullivan’s, right?” When Peter nodded, she said, “So Gillian over the hill here helped the gardaí by making some sketches of the guy, based on measurements of what was left of his face, and the sergeant at the station thought he recognized the man from Limerick, which is where the sergeant was before he came to Skibbereen. I’m sorry, am I confusing you?”
“No, yeh’re not. Go on.”
“Look, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, and maybe I’m making a lot of guesses, but I got to thinking. I know there’s been a problem with drugs coming through this part of Cork, and smuggling of who knows what else, but when I started asking around about finding a couple more people to work at Sullivan’s, I realized that there are some people who come here off the record, kind of—refugees and people looking for asylum, or maybe just trying to find a way to make a living that they can’t back wherever they came from.”
“Illegals, yeh’re sayin’,” Peter said flatly.
“Yes, I guess. I’m not talking about Travellers like you and your family. But maybe a lot of these are newcomers who paid to come over and don’t know what to do now. Maybe there are plenty of farmers who need help in the summer and won’t ask questions.”
“Maura, have yeh buried a question somewhere in here?” Peter asked, his expression still neutral.
“Yes. I guess in part I’m still trying out the story to see if it makes sense, by telling it to you, but I know it sounds like I’m rambling. So here it is: when Sophie left so fast, I got to wondering if maybe she was in this country illegally. And maybe her friend or boyfriend or whatever he is was too, so they both have reason to hide, especially from the gardaí. But I’m not here to help the gardaí. All I want is to talk to him, or both of them, and see if they really do want jobs. Sophie’s working some shifts at the café in town, and I’ve asked the chef—Sinéad—if she knows where to find either of them, but she told me she was careful not to find out, in case anybody official came asking. But then she said maybe since it’s warm enough now, they’d be sleeping outside? Only she called it sleeping rough.”
The Lost Traveller Page 20