Murder on Clare Island: A Garda West Novel (A Garda West Crime Novel Book 3)

by Valerie Keogh

  15

  Twenty minutes later, they were back in the luxury of the Clare Island Lighthouse. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ West said as they closed the bedroom door behind them, and he took her in his arms. ‘This wasn’t the romantic break I had planned.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Kelly replied, kissing him lightly on the lips, ‘there was a lot of romance last night. This is just a blip.’

  West smiled. It wasn’t exactly how he’d have described the scene that had greeted them at Toormore House. A blip. ‘Maybe dinner can wait a while,’ he murmured, pulling her tighter against him, letting her feel what she did to him.

  Kelly laughed. ‘You really haven’t learned the concept of delayed gratification, have you?’

  ‘And you really haven’t learned how hungry I can be,’ he replied, his tongue running down her neck, his hands running down her back, cupping her buttocks, moving her closer yet again.

  Kelly’s breathing increased. Oh yes, dinner could wait.

  An hour later, one appetite satisfied, they made their way to the main dining room.

  There were four people already seated at the one large table. They looked up as West and Kelly entered, raised eyebrows indicating that they knew exactly why the couple were late.

  First name introductions were done, the names as quickly forgotten as the four diners carried on a conversation that had started earlier. West and Kelly took their seats and browsed the menu in silence.

  ‘I should have told you there weren’t individual tables, ‘West whispered, ‘I forgot.’

  Kelly smiled at him and reached over to pat his knee reassuringly. ‘It’s fine,’ she said.

  ‘I can recommend the Smoked Duck salad,’ one of the men said, addressing them. ‘It’s incredibly good.’

  ‘Just what I was going to choose,’ West said with a smile.

  ‘I had the Courgette and Almond Soup,’ the woman sitting opposite added. ‘It was amazing.’

  Kelly nodded. ‘We had it last night, it was very good. I think, tonight, I’ll go with the duck salad too.’

  Conversation, like the wine, flowed. After dinner, they were offered an excellent, smoky Irish whiskey which all of the men and two of the women, Kelly included, decided to try. It was the perfect finish to a perfect meal.

  ‘I hope it’s a bit quieter tonight,’ the third woman at the table commented. ‘We were woken by the owl last night. I didn’t know they were quite so noisy.’

  Kelly, in the act of sipping her drink, choked. ‘Sorry,’ she said coughing, ‘it went down the wrong way.’

  ‘We heard seals barking,’ West said, his face serious. ‘Perhaps that was what you heard?

  The woman nodded and looked at the man beside her. ‘You see, I told you I heard shouting. Seals.’ She looked at West. ‘That makes sense.’

  ‘Seals?’ Kelly said when they returned to their room. ‘I thought I was going to have hysterics.’

  ‘Let’s see if we can make them bark again tonight,’ he said, pulling her into his arms and covering her mouth with his.

  They woke early next morning to the sound of gulls and lay in bed watching them perform acrobatics across the sky. Then they did some of their own before showering together, West soaping Kelly’s breasts, his hands slipping down over her buttocks with a groan. ‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he whispered into her ear, sliding her up the wall, holding her there and sliding inside.

  ‘You’re insatiable, Mike,’ Kelly said, before he upped the tempo, and there was no more need for words.

  Unfortunately, two of the other guests were still sitting around the kitchen table finishing their breakfast when they arrived. Kelly hiding her dismay, greeted the couple with a smile and sat. Please don’t let her mention owls or seals, she thought concentrating on the menu, wishing they’d finish their coffee and leave before she lifted her eyes.

  Her wish wasn’t destined to come true, the other couple lingering over their coffee as they made plans for the day.

  Daisy, coming to take their order, smiled and introduced them all again. ‘I know you met last night,’ she said, ‘but if you’re anything like me with names, they’ll have gone out the window. So, Mike, Kelly, meet Sinead and Chris.’ She filled all their coffee-cups and promised to make more herbal tea for Sinead.

  ‘Did you sleep well,’ Sinead asked the question Kelly dreaded.

  ‘Very well,’ she said refusing to do the polite thing and ask the woman the same.

  She didn’t need to. ‘Me too, I was so relieved and now, today I feel full of energy. I was asking Daisy, just before you came; she said the seals aren’t normally that noisy. She suggested it might be mating season.’

  ‘Really,’ Kelly said, feigning interest in the life of seals, trying not to catch West’s eye, refusing to look at Daisy when the woman returned with Sinead’s herbal tea in one hand and both their breakfasts balanced in the other.

  Thankfully, the other couple left and they enjoyed their breakfast in peace. It was the best breakfast either had ever had. No doubt. Everything would have been just perfect if West’s position as a policeman hadn’t intruded. Perhaps they should have gone abroad. But then again, he remembered, crime had followed him to Cornwall. The frown marks faded. There was no point in railing against it, was there? Plus, he had to admit, it was an interesting case. Killed by Lamprey Eels, that had to be one for the books. He’d enjoy telling Andrews about it when he returned. He imagined the other man’s face and grinned. He’d never believe it.

  There was no sign of Hall by the time they finished breakfast, so donning coats they walked along the cliff until the wind and the start of a light rain drove them back.

  They’d just reached their bedroom when a knock sounded on the door. ‘Garda Hall,’ West said, opening the door, ‘I wondered when you’d get here. Let’s go downstairs and get some coffee and you can fill me in on the post. Kelly,’ he added, turning to speak to her, ‘do you want to wait here, or go for a walk.’

  Kelly looked out the window. The rain looked to be down for the day and she didn’t fancy the idea of sitting around twiddling her thumbs. ‘Can’t I come with you?’ she asked, sharing a smile between the two men. ‘After all, I’ve seen the body and the crime scene. I might have something valuable to add.’

  Eamonn Hall, despite Kelly’s involvement the day before, looked to West for the no, this is official business he was sure would come, his mouth tightening when West nodded instead.

  ‘Indeed you might,’ he said, and without another word indicated that the garda lead the way back down the stairs to the dining room. They passed one of the housekeeping staff on the way and a request for coffee was met with a smile and a promise to have it sorted straight away.

  ‘Well, bring me up to speed,’ West said as they sat around the table.

  Hall cleared his throat. He was in awe of this Dublin detective, his ruddy face turning an unattractive darker shade of red as he wondered where to start. ‘We got the body back to mortuary last night,’ he started, ‘but the coroner didn’t arrive until this morning. That’s why I was so late getting here.’ His colour faded to its normal ruddy as he gained confidence in recounting the details of the day. ‘The coroner, Bill McCullough, is the slow, meticulous type, Sergeant. He takes his time, doesn’t rush to conclusions. The Lamprey eel situation fascinated him. He wants us to bring him one.’ Hall smiled. ‘Not that it will make any difference, you understand, he just wants to see what it looks like.’

  ‘It won’t make a difference? So it wasn’t the Lampreys that killed him then?’

  Hall shook his head. ‘Not accidently anyway. He found a square abrasion in the middle of his back. He’s sent particles of wood he found to the forensic people. But it looks like someone used something to push him in.’

  ‘We saw where he tried to climb out,’ West muttered.

  ‘Exactly, there was moss under the fingernails. He’s sent a sample of that to forensics too; I’ve to send a sample from the pool edge for comparison. B
ut there’s little doubt.’ Hall’s face turned grim. ‘There were also crush injuries to some of his fingers. There was no trace evidence unfortunately but he said it looked like someone stood on them.’

  ‘Not an accident then,’ West said, his voice grim on two counts, the murder and the end of a quick solution to the case.

  Hall shook his head.

  West looked at him. ‘Murder brings a lot of nasty things out of the woodwork, Eamonn.’

  Before the younger man had a chance to reply one of the staff arrived with a tray of coffee and freshly-made scones, the aroma of both filling the room. ‘These aren’t going to waste,’ Kelly said, taking one, ‘come on Eamonn. This sea air must give you an appetite.’

  All three helped themselves and within minutes the plate was empty.

  ‘So who else lives in Toormore House?’ West asked, using a napkin to wipe jam from his fingers.

  ‘Well, there’s Finbarr and Sylvia, obviously,’ Hall said, putting his cup down. ‘They have guests now and then, I don’t know if there are any at the moment. I didn’t think to ask, I’m afraid. Plus there’s a housekeeper and gardener stroke maintenance man.’ Hall clicked his tongue in irritation. ‘I should have asked about guests, shouldn’t I? There’s no check on people coming to the island. They can take the ferry or come over in private boats so we have no way of knowing who is here at any one time.’

  West considered the situation. ‘Ok,’ he said finally, ‘we need to get over there and see who is there now, find out if anyone left since yesterday, or if they had any visitors yesterday and who they were. Once we have those names, we do a background check on them all; see if any one of them had a motive to kill Eoin Breathnach.’ Frowning, West realised he usually handed background checks over to one of his team to do – it was a boring and often thankless task. With a sudden smile, he realised he could still do that. Morrison wouldn’t care, as long as he got the job done and didn’t interfere too much with the workings of the Foxrock station.

  ‘I’ll get my lads back in Foxrock to do the background checks as soon as we have the names,’ he told Hall, seeing the relief in his face and grinning. ‘Not great Wi-Fi reception here, is there?’

  Hall grinned in reply. ‘I have a small cottage in Roonagh; I rented it because I was told it had Wi-Fi. It does, just not very often, and never when I actually need it. I can go into Westport, of course, but that’s a bit of a nuisance in itself.’

  ‘Leave it to me, then. What can you tell me about the family? You seem to be on friendly terms with Finbarr.’

  Hall screwed up his face. ‘I was brought up in Westport; he went to the same secondary school as me for about six months. He lived with his grandparents while his mother was in Dublin trying to make it as an artist. He came to school one day and said his mother had married someone very rich, and that he was leaving.’ There was a moment’s pause as the young man remembered the teasing they had given the boy. ‘We never saw him in school again. Rumour had it that he went to Kylemore Abbey as a boarder.’ He shrugged. ‘He never said, and we never asked. His mother bought a big house just outside Westport and she and Eoin Breathnach spent a few weeks there, now and then.

  ‘They never stayed very long and Finbarr continued staying with the grandparents during the holidays. When the grandparents died, within a few months of each other, Finbarr moved into the house but I don’t think Sylvia came any more frequently. There was a housekeeper who looked out for him. We only knew he was home because he’d turn up at the local football games and tag along when we went for chips afterwards.’ Hall smiled ruefully, ‘He always had money, and was generous with it, so he was accepted. But he wasn’t ever liked. We used to imitate his accent and laugh at his clothes.’

  Thinking back, Hall shook his head, remembering some of the less savoury things they’d said, the practical jokes they’d played on the one person in their midst who was ever-so-slightly different. ‘We weren’t very kind to him I suppose, but he never complained. I didn’t see him for a few years then. When I graduated from Templemore I requested to stay in the West of Ireland, and spent some time in Killala before getting this posting. The outgoing garda mentioned Finbarr’s name and I think I met him on my second or third visit here.’

  ‘What did he do after school?’

  Hall shrugged. ‘He started an Arts degree in UCD but dropped out after a year. He mentioned he’d spent a few months in the College of Art and Design too, but he didn’t last there either. I’m not sure if he ever actually worked. But he never seems to be short of cash. Of course, his mother‘s very successful and he gets on well with her so I assume she funds his lifestyle.’

  ‘What about the dead man?’

  Hall shook his head. ‘I know hardly anything about him. He was sixty when he married Sylvia, who was only thirty. But they’ve stayed married so I suppose they were happy. He made a killing in property, sold it all and got out just at the right time before everything went belly-up. In fact,’ he frowned, ‘I gather there were some hard feelings from those who had paid a lot of money for property that was worth less than half, a few months later.’

  West wondered how hard those feeling went. The property crash had left many casualties in its wake. It was something to consider in their search for a motive.

  ‘Sylvia B’s background is well-documented of course. What do you know about her personally?’

  Hall blew out a breath. ‘Not a lot. She left Westport when she was quite young, I think. After Art College, she went to London and it was there she met Eoin. He was part of some hotel consortium, I think. Nowadays, she rarely leaves the island. Her agent comes across every few months, I know because I helped him load some of her paintings onto a very sleek motor-boat a year or so ago. She doesn’t encourage visitors. It was one of the reasons she left Westport, she was constantly being asked to give talks or appear at events, or had autograph hunters knocking on her door.’

  ‘She doesn’t give interviews either,’ Kelly added. ‘Her agent, Julius Blacque, was interviewed on a talk-show I happened to be watching. When asked about her, he explained that solitude was her muse. To be honest, he came across as a rather pretentious twit. But I’d forgive her anything; her work is magnificent.’

  ‘Ok,’ West said. ‘Well, I suppose we’d better get over there, break the bad news and start investigating.’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Kelly said firmly. An opportunity to meet Sylvia B wasn’t one she was going to let slip through her fingers. ‘I’ll stay quiet, won’t say a word. I promise,’ she added, seeing the sceptical look in West’s eyes.

  West met Hall’s intent gaze. ‘She might turn out to be useful. We don’t know how Sylvia is taking her husband’s death or how she’ll take the news that he’s been murdered. I don’t know about you, but hysterical women aren’t my forte.’

  Hall shot West a look. The sergeant’s background was well-known to him, he doubted if anything would faze him, but, as he didn’t seem to have a choice, he agreed that Kelly might be of use.

  The earlier, gentle rain had turned heavy and the Hall’s car was parked just outside the gate. Unlocking it from the shelter of the doorway, they ran to it in an every-man-for-himself dash.

  ‘Goodness, it’s really coming down now,’ Kelly said from the back seat, wiping the rain from her face with her sleeve.

  ‘The wind is picking up too,’ West said, and then asked Hall, ‘Do you often have to stay on the islands, if the weather turns?’

  ‘This storm was forecast,’ he replied, starting the engine and heading for Toormore House. ‘I don’t usually travel if the weather is bad. But Clew bay is reasonably sheltered, it doesn’t happen too often. I’d planned to stay over tonight, anyway. I’ve booked a room in the pub.’

  ‘Here we are,’ he said, twenty minutes later, driving up to the gates, expecting them to open. They didn’t.

  ‘I told Finbarr we’d be back today,’ he said crossly, taking out his phone then swearing loudly when he saw there was no signal. �
��I’ll have to go in and get someone to open the gate,’ he said, and then reached behind to grab a raincoat from the back seat. ‘I hope I won’t be long.’

  It was ten minutes before he returned, the gates slowly opening as he climbed back into the car, sending drops of rain flying from his coat and bedraggled hair. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, reaching across West’s knees to open the glove-compartment. He scrabbled in it for a few seconds before swearing loudly and pulling out a cloth that was obviously used for cleaning the windscreen. He rubbed it over his hair and face. ‘Nobody answered the front door so I had to make my way around to the back. Eventually, the damn door opened.’

  He drove through the gates as he spoke, parking as close to the front door as possible. ‘The house-keeper is going to get Finbarr. She said she’d open this door for us and let us in.’

  When the door opened, however, it was Finbarr who stood there waving gaily as if they had come for a social gathering.

  ‘I told you we’d be coming, Finbarr,’ Hall complained loudly when the door closed the rain outside.

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t say what time, did you? And after all, we can’t leave the gate open for all and sundry to enter, can we?’

  This was patently so ludicrous they didn’t bother to argue. ‘Is there somewhere we can go to talk,’ West said, refusing to stand in the chilly hallway.

  Finbarr looked him up and down before shrugging. ‘If you must,’ he said, leading the way into a large sitting room where a fire had been laid but not yet lit.

  Hall, almost soaked through, shivered.

  Noticing, and with a more friendly tone of voice, Finbarr said, ‘For goodness sake, Eamonn, take off your raincoat. Give it to me,’ he added, as the young garda peeled off the wet garment, ‘I’ll go and get you a towel.’

  He returned a few minutes later with a huge bath towel that he threw unceremoniously at the garda before dropping into the sofa with a grunt. ‘Well, what did you want to talk to me about?’ he said.

  For all the world as if nothing out of the way had happened yesterday, West thought, wondering if the man was being extremely clever or just extremely irritating.