Murder on Clare Island

by Valerie Keogh

  ‘Kelly,’ he said, ‘we’re going to have fantastic photos to put in those frames.’

  11

  West didn’t tell her where they were going, just told her to pack warm clothes, a rainproof jacket, a hat, and something nice for the evenings.

  ‘We’re not going camping then,’ Kelly said, looking out at the rain.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said and shot her a smile that had her heart race. He hadn’t said so, but she assumed they’d be sharing a room, a bed. She sighed deeply, and then smiled as West sent her a quizzical look. ‘You’ll like it, I promise,’ he said. Reaching a hand to rest it gently on his thigh, she said, ‘I know I will. To be honest, Mike, it doesn’t really matter where we go, because, probably for the first time since we met, you’re not a policeman and I, thankfully, am not a victim.’

  They chatted about this and that and discovered more about each other as West drove, stopping in Athlone for coffee in a little place he knew that served, he promised her, the best scones in the country.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, licking jam from her fingers and debating whether it would be piggish to have another, giving in on the basis that she didn’t know when they’d next be eating and anyway, she might never be back this way again.

  ‘The justification of the weak,’ West commented on her thinking, watching her tuck into the second scone with obvious pleasure.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she agreed, and then because everything was going so well, she added, ‘I thought I might need the extra calories.’

  West, unable to help himself, reached over and kissed her jammy mouth. ‘Maybe we should just check into a hotel here in Athlone,’ he whispered.

  Her laugh caused heads to turn. ‘No way,’ she said. ‘I’m looking forward to the surprise. Anyway, didn’t your mother ever tell you about delayed gratification being good for the soul?’

  Smiling, West kissed her again. ‘It will be very delayed,’ he said, ‘if we don’t get going. It’s a long way yet.’

  ‘Not Galway, then,’ she said, as they headed back to the car.

  ‘Not Galway,’ he agreed, starting the car and heading off. Passing through Oughterard, almost two hours later, he asked if she were hungry. ‘There’re some nice places to eat here,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again,’ she said. ‘But I don’t mind if you want to stop. I’ll just have a coffee or something.’

  ‘I’d prefer to keep going,’ West said, ‘it’s a bit of a way yet.’

  ‘Clifden?’ Kelly guessed, trying to think of any place she knew this side of Galway.

  West grinned and said nothing.

  It was grey when they left Dublin but the sky had cleared by the time they’d reached Galway. It stayed that way as they drove along the Clifden road.

  Kelly, still convinced this was their destination, was taken by surprise when he indicated right. ‘So not Clifden,’ she said.

  ‘Nope,’ he said, smiling.

  Kelly peered at the signpost. ‘Leenane? Is that where we’re going. It’s supposed to be very pretty.’

  ‘Not Leenane,’ West said, slowing as the road became narrow and windy. Seeing a parking area up ahead, he pulled over. ‘Let’s admire the scenery,’ he said, opening the car-door and getting out.

  As far as they could see they were surrounded by purples, greens, browns, every tone and shade blending into hills and mountains. The road they were on vanished around a bend but they could see it, appearing and disappearing in the distance, a grey ribbon through the landscape.

  Almost afraid to speak, Kelly whispered. ‘You forget, living in Dublin, how incredibly beautiful it is here.’

  ‘Incredibly beautiful,’ West agreed staring out across the fields and hills before turning to look at her. He wanted to say just like you but resisted, refusing to descend into cliché. ‘We’d better keep going,’ he said instead.

  ‘We’re going to run out of country soon, you know?’ Kelly said as they continued to drive, mile after mile, turning off the Leenane road, toward a town she’d never heard of. ‘Louisburg? Is that where we’re going?’

  She watched West shake his head, gave up and went back to admiring the scenery. Two hours after leaving Galway, he pulled into a car park overlooking the sea and turned off the engine.

  ‘We’re almost there,’ he said. ‘We’ve to change transport here.’ He pointed to the harbour where a large boat nudged the pier. ‘We’re catching the ferry.’

  ‘We’re going to Achill,’ Kelly said, sure, this time she was right, shaking her head in disbelief when West shook his.

  ‘Wrong again.’

  ‘I give up,’ she said, ‘where on earth are we, and where are we going?’

  ‘This is Roonagh Pier,’ he told her, taking her suitcase and his hold-all from the boot. Lifting a hand, he pointed out to sea. ‘That’s where we’re going,’ he said, ‘Clare Island.’

  Kelly didn’t quite know what to say. Her knowledge of the island was limited to knowing it existed, that was all. She tried to look excited. ‘Great,’ she managed, ‘I’ve never been there.’ She must have been a better actress than she’d thought because West looked pleased. Locking the car, he strode off with their luggage to where people were starting to board the ferry.

  Kelly shook her head. She’d spent so much time fussing over which of her dresses to bring, finally deciding on the most elegant and now, it looked as though they’d be staying in the suitcase.

  Shoving disappointment to the back of her mind, she climbed aboard the ferry and joined West at the rail, catching her hair in her hand as it blew around her face. ‘How long does it take?’ she asked, leaning into him, her mouth close enough to his ear she could have nibbled his ear-lobe.

  Smiling, he put an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer still, dropping a casual, almost possessive kiss on the top of her head. ‘Twenty-five minutes, they said. We can go below if you like or stay here. We’re so lucky with the weather.’

  And they were. October was late to be travelling in Ireland when the weather could be cold, wet and grey as it had been when they left Dublin. But here, the skies were blue and it was definitely warmer. If they were lucky it might last for a few days. Certainly, it had been a risk, West thought, his arm still holding Kelly close, but one that seemed to be paying off.

  He took in the other occupants, mentally arranging them into three categories, locals, islanders and tourists. It was a game he played when he went anywhere. He told himself it kept his perceptive skills sharpened, never wanting to admit the truth. People made him curious.

  ‘Do you want to go inside?’ West asked Kelly, feeling her shiver a little. ‘Are you cold?’

  Kelly shook her head. ‘No, well,’ she laughed, ‘a little, but Mike, the scenery is stunning.’

  ‘That’s Croagh Patrick,’ he said, pointing toward a snow-topped peak, ‘and that’s Achill Island over there. Haven’t you ever been to these parts before?’

  ‘I’m almost embarrassed to say I haven’t been further west than Clifden. I had a friend who used to visit Achill every year; she would tell us great tales about the place. I don’t know why I never got there, or to Clare Island. It was always, one day. You know how it is.’

  The harbour came into view and within minutes they were disembarking on Clare Island. It was even more basic than Kelly feared and she pinned the enthusiastic expression firmly in place while praying fervently that he hadn’t decided on camping.

  There was a great deal of hustle and bustle, friendly chat, loud and cheery greeting. West looking around, wondered how he would know who his driver was, but he needn’t have worried, seconds later a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Mike West?’

  West, quickly gave the man a once over, immediately liking what he saw, the cheerful, open face, bright intelligent eyes, casual, well-worn but expensive clothes. He smiled and nodded. ‘That’s me. You’re from the Lighthouse?’

  ‘That’s right,’ the man said extending his han
d. ‘Tadgh’s my name.’

  West dropped his holdall, and shook the man’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you Tadgh, and this is Kelly Johnson,’ West replied.

  ‘Well,’ the man said, picking up the suitcase, ‘introductions over, let’s get you to the Lighthouse.’

  Not a tent at least, Kelly thought, shaking her head when West offered her the front seat, climbing into the back, and buckling her seatbelt. A lighthouse. Oh God, please let there be a proper shower and toilet.

  Tadgh drove like a man well used to the vagaries of the road, taking the bends on the narrow road with practised ease. ‘D’you have a good trip across?’ he asked, looking first at West and then swivelling to look at Kelly who drew a gasp of fright as another car came barrelling along in the opposite direction, gaining a smile from the man who simply pulled over onto the hard shoulder to allow the car continue on its way without slowing down.

  ‘He always drives like a maniac,’ he told them, having recognised the car, ‘lives over in Toormore House. I think he thinks this is his private road.’ Pulling back onto the road, he continued, ‘we’re turning off here.’

  It was a straight road then to Clare Island Lighthouse and they arrived without any more drama, pulling up in front of a series of whitewashed building that extended from the fat round lighthouses. ‘Two,’ Kelly said, getting out and staring at the buildings in front of her. ‘There are two lighthouses.’

  West who had seen the photographs and knew what to expect, grinned at her excitement. Even he had to admit, the photographs didn’t do it justice. The place was amazing.

  Tadgh, opening the boot to take out the luggage, turned and grinned. ‘The first one was badly damaged in a fire in 1818, but rather than repairing it, they simply built another and didn’t bother to knock the first one down. I suppose they assumed, if left to its own devices, it’d take itself back to the sea quick enough. It gets a bit wild here in the winter.’

  Picking up the luggage, he led them through a small wrought-iron gate. ‘The entrance to the guesthouse is just here,’ he said, pushing the door open with his shoulder.

  A guesthouse. Kelly, reassured by a word that promised at least a certain level of comfort, found herself catching her breath as Tadgh led them from the entrance hall into what he referred to as the Drawing Room.

  ‘Take a seat,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and tell Daisy you’re here.’ He closed the door behind him.

  ‘Wow,’ Kelly said, moving to the fire, holding her hands out to feel the heat and then turning to look around the room. ‘This is gorgeous, Mike,’ she said, taking in the comfortable sofas, beautiful wooden floor, old period furniture. She walked to the window, peered outside and reached a hand up to feel the curtains. ‘Linen,’ she said turning to him again, her eyebrows raised. ‘Where did you find this place? It’s fabulous!’

  West smiled. ‘I’d heard about it, years ago,’ he said. ‘I wanted to take you somewhere special and it seemed to fit the bill. Somewhere away from everything we know, somewhere...’ he stopped, seeing her smile, he knew he didn’t have to explain any further. ‘So I chose well?’

  Kelly smiled. ‘I was a bit anxious at first,’ she admitted. ‘I did think for one horrible moment, you were going to take me camping.’

  West laughed. ‘No, I definitely don’t do camping, Kelly. This,’ he added, looking around the luxurious room, ‘this I can do.’

  The door opened, and a slight, attractive woman came through hands extended to both. ‘Welcome to Clare Island Lighthouse,’ she said, ‘I’m Daisy, the manager.’ And it didn’t seem the slightest bit awkward for West and Kelly to each take one of her hands. She held them for a moment before letting them go. ‘Now, would you like a cup of tea first or shall we go straight to your room?’

  Kelly glanced at West. ‘I’d love a cup of tea,’ she said apologetically.

  West nodded. ‘That would be nice,’ he agreed.

  Daisy waved them to seats near the fire. ‘There’s paperwork to do too, of course, but we’ll do that later. Meanwhile, sit, relax. I’ll get Tadgh to take your luggage to your room and after your tea I’ll show you up. You’ve booked dinner for eight in the Lantern Room. It should be a lovely evening. The skies are clear; there will be millions of stars.’

  With that she left them and once the door was closed, Kelly peppered West with questions. ‘The Lantern Room? Seriously? We’re having dinner up in the lighthouse?’

  Laughing, West nodded. ‘They offer it for special occasions. I thought this was special enough. We have it all to ourselves for the night.’

  Tea was served with a selection of home-made cake that had Kelly drooling with pleasure. ‘I’d like to eat the lot,’ she said, groaning after the first mouthful of coffee cake that was, she explained seriously, the best she’d ever eaten.’

  ‘After we check into our room, we can go have a walk around, give us an appetite for dinner,’ West said, thinking of the meal he’d pre-ordered.

  So that’s what they did. They were shown to their room, ‘Achill View,’ Daisy told them, leading them up the curved oak stairs to the room, pushing open the door and waving them in. ‘In the morning,’ she explained, closing the curtains, ‘you’ll see why the room was given the name. Now, I’ll leave you and we’ll see you both at eight for dinner.’

  Kelly had a quick look around the room, admiring the furniture, the spacious bathroom. Conscious of West waiting, she opened her suitcase and hung up a dress. The Lantern Room sounded like it might be a place to wear something special. She’d sort the rest of her stuff out later.

  Minutes later, they were outside. It was too dark to do much exploring but they followed a pathway for a short distance, and then stood, staring out to sea. There were lights in various places that may have been Achill, or the mainland or simply a fishing vessel plying its trade. ‘We’ll be more orientated tomorrow when we can see it all by daylight,’ West said. He put an arm around her, pulling her close. ‘We’d better go in, it’s getting cold.’

  West had a shower first. ‘I’ll just be a couple of minutes,’ he said and then you can have a long shower or do whatever it is women do in these circumstances.’

  Kelly smiled. ‘Titivate,’ she said, watching him as he took off his coat and hung it up, admiring his muscular body as he stretched for the hanger, wondering how it would feel to move her hands over it. Gulping, she turned away. Oh, yes, she decided, catching her flushed face in the mirror.

  He’d only be a few minutes, he said. Checking her watch, she saw it was only six-thirty. Plenty of time, she decided, and quickly stripped and jumped into the huge bed, feeling the softness of the sheets, the luxurious feel of the duvet. Seriously this was an amazing place. Dinner was bound to be just as good, why spoil it by wondering what was going to happen after. Better off getting it out of the way, then they could concentrate on their dinner properly.

  She could hear the shower running. Thinking, she hopped out of bed again, took the duvet off the bed and put it untidily on a chair. Then she switched off the light and waited. The shower was still running, she switched the light back on, rushed to the window and pulled the curtains open, then switched off the light and jumped under the sheet.

  She couldn’t hear the shower any longer, and the stage was set.

  West, opening the bathroom door, minutes later, was surprised to find the room almost in darkness. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. He wondered, just for a moment, if she’d run out on him. She’d done it before, after all. Then in the light from the bathroom, he saw her, lying curled on her side, one hand extended toward him, the fine cotton sheet covering the swell of her breasts.

  ‘I would have sworn I was only a few minutes in the shower,’ he murmured, taking a few steps toward the bed.

  ‘I hope it wasn’t a cold shower,’ she said huskily.

  He took a few more steps forward, stopping at the foot of the bed. He’d wrapped a towel around his waist after his shower. With a glint in his eye, he undid the knot he’d made
to keep it in place, and let it drop to the floor.

  Kelly bit her lip on the sound she wanted to make. ‘Well, I guess not,’ she murmured and threw back the sheet.

  12

  Dinner in The Lantern Room, with a canopy of stars in the sky as the main design feature and food that was beyond sublime, was something West thought he’d remember until his dying day, and very probably beyond.

  He’d pre-ordered the food, hoping he’d guessed correctly. Courgette and Almond soup, a combination he was curious to taste, was so good he groaned. This was followed by Monkfish with a butter and Pernod glaze that had both of them oohing and aahing in pleasure.

  ‘That was incredibly good,’ Kelly said once all the plates were taken away.

  West smiled, stood and switched out the only light in the room plunging them into darkness relieved only by starlight. He moved around the table to where Kelly sat, and pulled her up into his arms. Entwined, they moved to the door, feeling their way by hand, Kelly giggling as they stumbled against chairs.

  Opening the door onto the viewing-platform was more difficult in the darkness, West silently castigated himself for not having checked it earlier. Just when he thought he’d have to admit defeat, he felt it open. With a sigh of relief, he pushed the door open almost losing it to the swirling wind outside. Cold wind. He pulled it shut again.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, moving away from Kelly, feeling his way around the curved walls to the pile of blankets he had noticed earlier. He grabbed a handful, made his way back to Kelly’s side and opening one, draped it around her bare shoulders.

  Once out on the platform, the door closed behind them, the breeze didn’t seem so bad blending as it did with the thunder and crash of the waves below to provide background music. The canopy of stars in the clear night-sky was mesmerising and they stood without speaking for a long time.

  ‘It’s stunning,’ Kelly whispered finally, moving around within West’s embrace to face him and plant a kiss gently on his mouth. ‘Thank you, it couldn’t be more perfect.’