by Maggie Finn
‘Do you mind me asking: why are you here, Guard?’ said Eliza, giving him a sideways glance. ‘I mean, I’m very glad, but why would you be out on the cliffs? Not part of your beat, is it?’
‘No, true enough.’ He turned to reach inside his pocket, then thought better of it as she stumbled. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I was going to drop off the police report number for you. You’ll need it for the insurance claim, I’m guessing?’
‘That’s kind. But still…’
She thinks I’m stalking her, thought Noah.
‘I was in the area. I’d gone to see Danny Brennan – he’s lost a laptop computer – and Dan told me he’d shown you the way up here. As I was passing, I thought I’d see if I could catch you.’ He looked awkward and Eliza raised an eyebrow.
‘Anyhow, I saw you at the far end of the cliffs, then you disappeared. I thought you’d fallen off.’
Eliza looked over her shoulder where the waves were sending up spray as they slammed into the rocks below.
‘What would have happened if I did?’
Noah looked over. ‘Oh, you’d be dead.’
The woman gasped, then burst out laughing.
‘Well, thanks for your honesty, Guard.’
‘All part of the job,’ he smiled. ‘But as you’re not dead, let’s get you back to the car and up to the doc’s. When he’s given you a look over, I’ll drive you back to Mrs. Brennan’s. She’ll be worried sick.’ He gave a knowing smile.
As they hobbled across the field to the coast road, Noah felt Eliza close. It was heavenly. And yet, she didn’t even know his name. To say he was crushed was an understatement.
Pull yourself together, man, he scolded himself. You’re acting like a lovesick teenager.
Finally they came to the gate where Noah had parked the car and, as he was helping Eliza into the passenger seat, there was an angry crackle from the radio and Colleen’s voice barked out.
‘Noah? You there?’
He snatched up the handset. ‘It’s Guard Moyes, yes. And I have someone with me.’
‘Ah. Right you are. So will you still be needing the helicopter now?’
‘No, false alarm,’ he said, embarrassed that he hadn’t called back.
‘That’s grand because you’re needed up at the Castle. Been another break-in.’
‘Alright, but first I need to get someone to Doc Fabian’s…’
‘Unless they’re bleeding to death, I’d get up to Sleagh. Word’s got around about Danny’s computer and you know the travelers are back at Ham Farm?’
Noah’s heart sank. It wasn’t just Diana Brennan who liked to jump to conclusions. Having travelers in the area always ruffled feathers and led to unfounded rumors. Colleen was right: if he didn’t shut this down quickly, it was apt to run away from them. He clicked off the radio and turned to Eliza.
‘I know this is an imposition, but would you mind if I called in at Sleagh Castle on the way to the doctors? I wouldn’t ask but it’s sort of pressing.’
‘It’s a real-life castle?’ she asked, wide-eyed.
Noah smiled.
‘It is.’
‘Oh, I’m so in. And actually the ankle’s feeling a lot better.’
It would have to be Sleagh, thought Noah as they drove up to the castle, turning off the coast road between an avenue of trees and crunching along the drive. And it would have to be Charles Balcon.
Of all the men in Kiln County, Sir Charles was the one most likely to turn the head of a visitor like Eliza. Not only did he own a castle and a flashy sports car and most of the land between Clover Cove and Kilmara, he was dashing and good looking and – Noah hated to admit it – charming too.
Miss Carlisle’s just a member of the public, thought Noah sternly, she’s not your girlfriend. And he was an officer of the Garda, here to investigate a crime. Get your head right, Noah.
There was a turn at the end of the line of trees, and suddenly Sleagh Castle appeared in front of them.
‘Gosh,’ sighed Eliza. ‘It really is a castle.’
It was impressive, Noah couldn’t deny it. Two grey stone turrets stood either side of the old castle, complete with castellations at the top and arrow-slits at the side, but down the years, the original structure had been greatly extended with grand wings punctuated with tall windows, pillars and twisted brick chimneys. How Sir Charles managed to maintain such a huge place, Noah would never know. He pulled the car up near the main entrance and beeped the horn, then for good measure, clicked on the siren for two beats.
‘Given your ankle, we’ll get Sir Charles to come to us,’ he said, but Eliza was already climbing out of the car, craning her neck to take in the grand house.
‘How old is the castle?’ she asked, leaning on the open door.
‘No idea. The main tower’s the old part. Six, eight hundred years? I think the main house was added around 1500.’
Eliza whistled through her teeth.
‘You say six, eight hundred like it’s nothing. In California, if a building was built before 1940, it gets historical status.’
She turned to look at him. ‘Thanks for bringing me here.’
Noah didn’t meet her gaze. ‘Part of the job: unofficial tourist officer.’
To cover his embarrassment, Noah leant back into the car and beeped his horn again. He was rewarded as a handsome blonde man stepped out of the entrance.
‘It’s yourself, Sir Charles,’ he called, walking over to greet the man. ‘Sorry to drag you out, but I have an injured patient in the car.’
Eliza gave a shy wave and Noah caught the slight raise of the lord’s eyebrows as he spotted her.
‘Oh, well I’d better come out then, hadn’t I?’
He strode over and thrust his hand towards Eliza. ‘Charles Balcon. Welcome to Sleagh.’
‘This is your place? It’s amazing.’
‘Can’t take any credit, I’m afraid. It was here when I was born. Listen, let’s get you to a seat. Can’t have you sitting in a stuffy car when the sun’s out.’
Noah hurried across and together, they helped Eliza hop across to a wooden bench. ‘Will you be alright here?’ asked Noah. ‘Sir Charles and I won’t be long.’
Eliza looked up at the ivy-covered walls and back across the lawns towards a statue of a Greek God struggling with a serpent. ‘Oh, I think I’ll be fine,’ she grinned.
Charles led Noah through the black oak front door, through the entrance hall, past the sweeping staircase guarded by suits of armor and down a series of wood-paneled corridors to the back of the house. He stopped in a room that obviously doubled as a library and a study: floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered the walls facing a polished wooden desk, itself with a view through the windows onto the formal gardens, then beyond them the sea.
‘Here, it looks like this is where they got in,’ said Charles, indicating a half-open side window. Noah bent to inspect it: the frame looked scuffed and there were flakes of old paint on the rug below it.
‘No broken glass?’
‘No, thank goodness,’ said Charles. ‘It would have cost a fortune to replace; you can’t just shove new glass in, it has to match all the others and as you might imagine, hundred-year-old glass is tricky to find.’
‘So how did they get in?’
Charles gave a wry smile.
‘Security isn’t exactly a priority here, Guard. These windows are old, the wood’s all warped by the sea air and the locks aren’t exactly state of the art.’
Noah could see that was the case: just a simple brass latch. It was easy to guess that someone had used an implement, perhaps even something as simple as a flat knife, to reach inside and flip the lock to one side. And the disturbed dust on the inside did indeed suggest that someone had clambered through.
‘Hmm, I dare say you’re right that they came in this way.’ Noah straightened up and looked around the room. ‘So what’s missing?’
‘Well that’s the strangest thing. All that’s missing is a book.’
‘A book?’
> Charles crossed to the opposite side of the room and showed Noah a space in the bookshelf.
‘Now why would someone take a book?’
‘Oh, it was a first edition of ‘To The Lighthouse’ by Virginia Woolf. Rare books can be valuable.’
‘Any idea how much?’
‘Few thousand at a guess, maybe five? Could even be more – it was in pretty good condition if I remember rightly.’
Noah gave a low whistle.
‘And it was just the one book? They didn’t take anything else?’
Charles smiled.
‘The family silver you mean? Long gone, old boy. There really isn’t that much left to take. Mind you, if I was a thief, I’d go for my computer.’
He gestured towards the shiny silver laptop still sitting on his desk. Noah looked at the Lord, thinking of Danny Brennan and the similar theft he’d reported. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘I’m not very familiar with how it all works in criminal circles,’ shrugged Charles, ‘But I imagine it’s easier to sell a laptop than a very distinctive rare book.’
Noah nodded. ‘I take your point. Well, thanks for your time. If you can get me some details about the book, that’d be a help.’
‘Aren’t you going to dust for fingerprints? Forensics?’
Noah shook his head.
‘The nearest unit is Cork. And there’s no point.’ He bent to point at the marks in the dust. ‘See the long smears? They’ve used gloves. Although…’
Moving his head to the side, Noah could see a pattern in the dust. ‘Looks like footprints…’ he said. ‘Do you see?’
Charles knelt down next to Noah. ‘Well I never,’ he said. ‘It seems we have a burglar with high-class tastes.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You see the pattern in the grips? The little ‘r’ and ‘L’ letters inside one another? That’s the logo of Roman LeFey, the French designer. Shoes like that are expensive.’
Noah frowned. It clearly wasn’t a straightforward break in.
‘Well, I’ll make some enquiries. But I’d warn you not to make any assumptions.’
‘The gypsies, you mean?’
‘Travelers,’ said Noah. ‘Gypsies are Romany, the Hares are from a different ethnic group: understandably they get touchy about that. But yes, some people are apt to jump to conclusions when they’re in the area. If it gets around there’s been a break-in…’
Sir Charles held up a hand. ‘Don’t worry Guard, my lips are sealed. And anyway, as it happens I like the Travelers coming: it’s not Christmas in the Cove until the Hares are in camp. And my father was very fond of Queenie.’
Rumor had it that Lord Arthur Balcon was “very fond” of a great many women in his time.
‘Do you mind if I take a few photos?’ asked Noah.
‘Help yourself. I’ll go and entertain your patient. See you out front.’
Noah nodded and quickly set about his work. He knew it was irrational and possibly unprofessional to think this way, but Charles Balcon had a similar reputation to his father as a ladies’ man. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree: that was the gossip in the area. Noah didn’t know whether it was true, but he was keen to get back to Eliza, either way. Having taken photos and notes, Noah retraced his steps through the house, deep in thought about the break-in. As he saw it, there were three possibilities: the travelers, an outside gang or an inside job. Noah was fairly sure he could rule out the travelers. Their leader Queenie was well-named as she ran her tribe like an old-time monarch: her word was law with the travelers. Tradition was very important to Queenie and the Hares and Noah didn’t think they would risk being moved on from the winter festival for the sake of some petty thievery. So if not the travelers, then who? A gang from Dublin or Galway would make sense – it might even explain the designer shoes: a successful gang blowing the spoils. But managing two break-ins without anyone seeing them was nigh on impossible. Kiln County was like a gigantic neighborhood watch scheme, partly due to the lack of visitors, but mainly due to the garrulous character of the locals. The folks in the Cove and the Port liked to chat; even if the burglars had managed to avoid talking to anyone, a gang of strangers would have been seen, noted and talked about: Noah would have heard about it already.
So that left an even more unlikely scenario: an inside job. Would Sir Charles fake a break-in, perhaps for the insurance? The missing book certainly fit that profile: easy to hide, high value and practically impossible to prove if Sir Charles had simply slid it down from the shelf. The rumor was that the Balcon estate was struggling; Charles had practically admitted it himself with his quip about selling the family silver. But if this was a scam for the cash, then why not pretend the phantom burglars had taken two books – or a dozen? And then there was Danny Brennan’s computer. He hadn’t said this to Sir Charles, but the method of the break in was almost identical: the thief had slipped the latch on Danny’s ancient sash window too. It was more than a coincidence, Noah was sure of it.
A peel of laughter brought Noah out of his thoughts and he hurried to the front, where he found Sir Charles leaning against the wall with Eliza gazing up at him with undisguised admiration.
‘You know one of my ancestors was a pirate, did you know that?’ Charles laughed. ‘Black Anthony, that was his name. He used one of the little coves around here to hide his ship and would pop out to plunder the Spanish gold. Legend has it that there’s a chest of doubloons buried somewhere in the garden.’
‘Really?’ said Eliza breathlessly.
‘Oh yes, I spent half my holidays from school digging holes in the hillside.’
Noah stepped across.
‘Thanks Sir Charles, I’ll be in touch.’
Eliza looked up, disappointed.
‘Best get you up to Doc Fabian,’ said Noah.
‘Oh, the ankle’s much better,’ she said, standing up as if to prove her point. ‘I think if I just rest, it’ll be okay again tomorrow.’
‘Well, at least lean on me to the car,’ said Charles, offering Eliza his arm.
Noah followed slowly behind and tried for a cheery wave as he turned the car and drove Eliza back up the drive.
‘A real English Lord,’ sighed Eliza.
‘Well actually he’s Irish,’ said Noah gloomily.
Eliza glanced across and gave him a smile.
‘Even better.’
Chapter Six
Eliza had been right about the ankle. Aside from a vague ache, it was much better this morning. She lifted a sudsy foot from bath, gently pointing it towards the faucet. She wiggled her toes: no, nothing broken.
Guard Noah had taken her to see Doctor Fabian, an elegant older man with a gentle bedside manner who had confirmed Noah’s diagnosis of a sprain and prescribed a day’s rest followed by a good night’s sleep. It had certainly done the trick: it felt almost as good as new, which was a relief. When she had booked this vacation, she had imagined herself striding up green hills and jumping over babbling streams, her hair blowing in the breeze. There wouldn’t be much of that if she was limping along with a cast on her ankle.
Not that anything about this Christmas break had gone the way she had planned. Eliza had wanted space and calm and blissful isolation; instead, she seemed to have been thrust into heart of this noisy community. Glancing across at her watch propped up on the sink, Eliza noted that she hadn’t even been here twenty-four hours and yet she’d met a policeman, a Lord and a doctor: definitely not on the plan. Eliza had come here to avoid men, yet Clover Cove seemed full of eligible bachelors. Noah, the local bobby – was that what they called them, or was that just in foggy London town? – was ridiculously good-looking and the local aristocrat had ice-blue eyes and lived in a castle, for heaven’s sake! Even the medic and the guy from the newspaper were pretty cute. Eliza shook her head and reached for a towel.
‘Fuzzy thinking, Eliza,’ she muttered to herself as she levered herself out of the bath. Nic was part of her past – he’d been pretty clear about that
and, if she was honest, it was the same way Eliza had been thinking for a long time. But jumping straight into another relationship, especially with some Irish guy who lived five thousand miles away? That wasn’t smart, it wasn’t healthy and anyway, it wasn’t as if anyone was actually offering anything right now. Eliza dried herself off and dressed, pausing at the door to listen. She wanted to get up and out and she didn’t want to see Mrs. Brennan. The lady of the house had actually been quite sweet in her gruff way when Noah had carried her over the threshold, bringing her pillows to raise her foot and a tray of tea and biscuits, but Eliza felt she was overdue the ‘alone time’ she had promised herself and she could do without any small talk on her way out.
The sun was out and there was a wonderfully fresh smell in the air. Eliza sucked it greedily into her lungs and let it out in a long stream. In front of her, the square shone like a silver lake; a shower of rain had just passed, followed immediately by the bright wintry sun peculiar to the coast, reflecting back from the tarmac. Gosh: even the roads were pretty here. Sure, it was chilly, but this was December in Ireland. You didn’t come for the tan. Plus Eliza welcomed the change. In California at this time of day, the air would be so hot and thick, sometimes it felt like sucking a marshmallow through a straw. She doubted that was anyone’s idea of the perfect Christmas.
Eliza stood there, just enjoying the sun, loving how the village was so quiet and still, especially compared to the day of her arrival. The square was silent and the little cobbled lane on the far side – real-life cobbles, how cute was that! – was empty. Eliza considered strolling down to the sea and felt a sudden thrill as she realized that, for the first time in far too long, she had nowhere in particular to be. If she wanted to walk on the beach, she could. If she wanted to sit on the seawall reading a book, she could do that too. After the non-stop twenty-four-hour neon overload of her home city, the shining green of the fields and the wide open blue of the ocean felt like, well, freedom.
And wasn’t that the real reason she was here? Eliza desperately needed to get away. From Nic, yes of course, from him and from the bad memories and the doubts – had she, had they done the right thing? Wouldn’t she be happier on that pool deck up in the hills with the view of the speckled mirror-flash valley below, the chalk-line of the Interstate moving sluggishly through rush hour? No. Eliza closed her eyes: no. Their relationship hadn’t been right for a long time and if Nic hadn’t said something, she would have. She had been rehearsing a similar speech for weeks – no, months.