Murder in an Irish Pub

by Carlene O'Connor

  What on earth is in the air around here? Suddenly all the men in Kilbane want to look at diamond rings? Well, three of them. Still. That’s three more than normal.

  He approached with a shy smile on his face. “I just had a brilliant idea.”

  “Oh?”

  “Will you come back with me when they’re open?”

  “Why?”

  “I need a woman’s opinion.”

  “Then my opinion is you don’t need my opinion.”

  “C’m’ere to me. Don’t be like that.”

  “I don’t know your girlfriend.” She didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. “Why didn’t she come with you?”

  “I get too nervous with her around. Need to maintain my poker face.”

  “I see.”

  “Please. It will hardly take any of your time. Just let me know what ring you would choose.”

  She still didn’t believe him, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep him talking. It was challenging enough not to grill him about the purchase he made at the hardware store, but Macdara made it clear that he wanted to take the lead. But that didn’t include helping a man pick out a diamond ring, did it? She was all about the love. “I can meet you here at half nine.”

  “Wonderful.” His smile was that of a man who had a secret. She glanced at his shoes. They looked big. Size eleven? If he was telling the truth, and was considering proposing to his girlfriend, maybe he’d been the one pacing the store. More angst than menace in that case. She’d shake him like a tree later, see what fell out.

  “See you then,” she said, and headed off to finish her run.

  * * *

  Tom Howell placed the tray of sparkly little diamonds on the counter. They were so beautiful. Siobhán had spent little time looking at jewelry. Her mam had only owned a few pieces, her diamond engagement ring being one of the finest Siobhán had ever seen, namely because it was passed down by her grandmother, and she loved the history it held within. She always thought she’d wear it when she married, although she had yet to discuss that with Gráinne or Ann. For now, her mother’s ring was in a box on top of Siobhán’s dresser. Looking at these, all so shiny and new, Siobhán had to admit there was excitement when she thought about being given one just for her. As she glanced at the variety of styles and sizes, she wondered which one Macdara would choose.

  “You look frozen,” Shane teased. “Which is your favorite?”

  “Tell me a bit about your girlfriend,” Siobhán said. “Is she a dainty jewelry wearer, or do you think she would prefer the bling?”

  “Most prefer the bling, alright,” Tom Howell said with a wink.

  “First you need to stick to your budget,” Siobhán said.

  “Forget all that.” Shane waved his hand. “I want you to tell me which ring you like. If money were no object.”

  “I might have very different tastes than your girlfriend.” I certainly hope so.

  “Indulge me.”

  She sighed, and looked at the rings. There was one obvious stunner and she tried not to stare at it. Tried not to imagine it on her finger. Should she pretend she liked the smaller ones? Her eyes gravitated back to the stunner. The diamond was set up a little higher than the others, a decent-sized beauty also dotted with emeralds forming a Celtic cross around the diamond. It was nearly impossible not to fall in love with it. It probably cost more than an entire year of her garda salary.

  Tom Howell pointed to the object of her affection. “I see you can’t take your eyes off this one.” He winked. “The lady has expensive taste.”

  Shane Ross laughed. “It’s gorgeous. Just like the lady.”

  “They’re all beautiful,” Siobhán said. “I’d be happy with any of them.”

  “Sure you would,” Shane said, rolling his eyes.

  “If I were in love, I’d be just as happy to wear a copper wire ’round me finger.” That was true. She didn’t need diamonds to love Dara. A stiff drink now and then did the trick.

  Shane arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re not in love?”

  There went her face, another little flash fire. Does he know something, or is he just fishing at night? She turned her attention to Tom. “Have you had many in during the festival?”

  “No. The action has all been at the tent.” He gave her a look, no doubt trying to remind her of the trouble he’d had, including the footprints. She had hoped he would mention Nathan and Macdara’s visit. But he was keeping their secret. Men certainly stuck together.

  “Shane has been waiting for you to open. He’s probably been to the store multiple times. It’s a very nerve-racking event, thinking of proposing.”

  “Indeed,” Shane said.

  “What size shoe do you wear?”

  Tom was suddenly alert and following Siobhán’s trail.

  “Eleven,” Shane said. “Why?”

  “Eleven,” Tom said. “And have you been pacing outside me shop?”

  Shane laughed. “You caught me.”

  “Finally,” Siobhán said. “A case solved!” She turned to him. “You weren’t planning on robbing Tom, were you?”

  “Robbing him? At these prices I t’ink he’ll be robbing me.”

  Tom threw his head back and laughed. He placed his hand on his heart. “I’m so relieved.”

  Shane nodded to the diamonds. “I need to think on it. What time do you close?”

  “I’ll be closing this afternoon to go to the wake.”

  Shane rapped on the case with his knuckles. “Right. I have some thinking to do.”

  “I’d be happy to offer a small discount. I’m a big fan.”

  “Mighty appreciated.”

  * * *

  Siobhán accompanied Shane outside. She really hoped Tom would have opened up about Macdara and Nathan’s visit. She was going mad with wonder. Maybe Shane could help. She turned to him. “How well do you know Nathan Doyle?” Sometimes it was best to take a direct approach.

  Shane raised an eyebrow. “I’d never met him until this trip. He’s an odd one. Likes to delegate.”

  “What do you mean, ’delegate’?”

  Shane shrugged. “He isn’t cut out for the job. Even asked me and Clementine to help. Fetch this or that for Rose Foley. And he wouldn’t win a hand of poker against a child.”

  “How did he get the job?”

  “That’s above my pay grade.” He took out a cigarette and lit up as they walked. “If you want to know who I don’t trust . . . it’s Clementine.”

  “The Queen of Hearts?”

  “If you ask me, they should be calling her ’the Queen of Black Hearts.’ ” He flinched. “I didn’t mean because of her race. I meant her disposition.”

  Black hearts. Just like someone had blacked out her heart in the playing cards. The very marker Shane purchased from Liam’s shop.

  “What about Clementine’s disposition?” Siobhán liked Clementine Hart. Shane, on the other hand, was a dark horse. Just like Nathan Doyle said.

  “Do you know she carries around the queen of hearts, always on her?”

  “Really?”

  “The cards you showed me? Jack of spades with the mouth blacked out, queen of hearts with her heart blacked out?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think it was Clementine herself who done it.”

  With your marker? Why don’t you fess up to buying it? “Because she carries the queen of hearts with her?”

  “Playing cards weren’t the only thing. That night she was also carrying around a black marker.”

  Siobhán could not believe he just said that. With no mention that he was the one who purchased the marker. He lied so easily, it was frightening. “You never mentioned that earlier.”

  He tapped his head. “It only came to me.”

  “Would Clementine have had any reason to harm Eamon?”

  “She was convinced she was number two.”

  “She was ranked number two,” Siobhán corrected. Shane Ross was seething with jealousy.

  “If she did
it—and I’m not saying she did—but if she did, it was the competition she was trying to kill.”

  Just like she suspects of you. A cardinal rule of lying was to stick as closely as possible to the truth. Was this his confession? “Even if you’re right, and she was trying to kill the competition, wouldn’t she have waited until Nathan rendered his decision? See if Eamon was still in the tournament?”

  “I’ll leave the detecting to you. Cards is my game. I’m just telling you, I saw her with a black marker. And playing cards.”

  “Have you been into our local hardware store? Liam’s?” Macdara was going to kill her. But “strike while the iron is hot” was an expression for a reason, and the iron was currently scalding.

  Shane frowned. “Where did that come from?”

  “We’re trying to trace a few items and Liam mentioned he saw you in the shop.”

  “I figure I might as well help out the locals while I’m here.”

  “Did you purchase anything?”

  “I have a feeling you already know.”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I bought a pair of gloves.”

  “And?”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared her down. “A black marker.”

  “What for?”

  “The old woman at the inn.”

  “Margaret wanted a black marker?”

  He shook his head. “She asked if I’d help her carry in some firewood. I didn’t want to get splinters. Makes it hard to play cards.”

  Margaret did have a wood-burning fireplace in the lobby and she was known to send anyone who was willing out to fetch a pile. But wouldn’t she have gloves folks could borrow? It would be necessary to speak with Margaret again. “And the marker?”

  “Ask the delegator.”

  “Nathan Doyle?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “He asked you to buy him a black marker?”

  “He did.”

  “Did you ask why?”

  “I figured it was for one of the charts. But, no, I didn’t ask.”

  “Why are you laying this all at Clementine’s feet then?”

  “I bought the marker. Gave it to Doyle. Then Clementine is the one I saw clutching it all night.”

  She didn’t know if she believed him or not. He was so smooth. From now on, her default was going to be to assume everything that came out of his gob was a lie. Especially when he appeared cool and collected. Maybe that was his tell. His calm, calm exterior meant he was bluffing. “What kind of interactions did you have with Eamon Foley?”

  “He was a bit gruff. But friendlier in some ways than I’d anticipated.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He was asking me a lot of questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “It was like he was writing a book on me.”

  This was new information. She thought of Rose’s statement. How Eamon had found out something about Shane Ross. How he warned Rose to stay away from him. How did Rose put it? His deepest, darkest secret. But if Eamon had been afraid of Shane Ross, would he have been grilling him? Shane certainly wasn’t acting as if he knew Eamon had been afraid of him.

  “What kinds of questions was he asking you?”

  “What does that matter? I know what he was doing.”

  “What?”

  “Trying to crawl inside me head, intimidate me. Know the enemy. I didn’t fall for it. Didn’t tell him a t’ing.” Shane pointed his finger at her. “Have you spoken to Eamon’s doctors yet?”

  Siobhán didn’t answer. He probably knew they couldn’t get their hands on medical records that quick. Or he didn’t care. “Checked on his little swimmers?” he continued goading.

  “Show some respect. A man is dead.”

  Shane glowered. “He took his own life. I’ve no respect for that.”

  “You might want to keep that to yourself at the memorial.” Siobhán was relieved when they finally parted ways. Killer or not, there was indeed something dark about Shane Ross.

  Chapter 20

  Siobhán was on her way to the garda station when her mobile rang and Macdara’s name and handsome face flashed across the screen. She answered.

  “Where are you?”

  “On my way in.”

  “I need you to meet me at the Kilbane Inn. Rose Foley’s room.” Siobhán turned around and hurried over. Macdara was waiting for her outside of Rose’s room.

  “I thought you said she’d cleared out.”

  “That’s what I heard.” He ushered her in and pointed. Rose Foley’s handbag sat in the center of the bed. “That’s not a good sign, is it?” Macdara said. “A woman leaving her handbag.”

  “No,” Siobhán said. “Especially after she’s checked out.” Siobhán removed a pair of gloves she always had tucked into the inside pocket of her uniform, put them on, and opened the handbag. Inside was just a coin purse and lipstick. “She may have another handbag. I don’t see her wallet or keys. . . .” Just like the Octopus. She stopped. “This feels staged.”

  Macdara edged forward. “How do you mean?”

  “Like she wanted us to find this here. She wants us to worry.” Something was nagging her. Keys. Keys. She thought of Ciarán crowing about Eamon’s orange Mustang. “How did the two of them get here?”

  “I assumed they drove.”

  “Ciarán said Eamon drove an orange Mustang.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So where is it now?”

  Macdara stared at her. “I don’t know.” Macdara snapped his fingers. “I heard talk of how paranoid he was to park it around here. I think he made Nathan Doyle find him a secret parking spot.”

  Siobhán jotted down a note. “I’ll ask him about it.”

  “No worries. I’ll do it.” Macdara retreated to the corner with his cell phone, then turned back to her. “I left Nathan a message. In the meantime the guards are on it. They’ll give me a bell when they suss out the car. I can’t believe we overlooked that.” Siobhán tried not to gloat. She was happy she was the first to think of it, but she should have worked it out earlier. They left the room and headed out. As they passed Margaret’s office, Siobhán thought about speaking to her about the firewood, but a CLOSED sign hung on the door. Besides, Macdara appeared to be in a hurry. “Where to now?”

  “While we’re waiting for word on the car, I thought we’d stop into Henry Moore’s farm.”

  “Do you think Rose is there?”

  “She keeps circling the place.”

  Like a vulture. “Have you called the hospital? Maybe she went into early labor.”

  “I checked. She’s not in hospital.”

  “I had a talk with Ciarán. He says he saw Amanda Moore at Sharkey’s Friday night. He also saw her talking to Eddie Houlihan. Have we questioned him yet?”

  “No. We’d better put them both on the follow-up list.”

  “I also ran into Shane on my morning jog.”

  “Ran into where?”

  “Just in town.” At Celtic Gems. You know, your favorite place to hang with the bros. . . . “We got to chatting and he said he bought the gloves to move firewood for Margaret and that Nathan Doyle asked him to buy the marker for one of their charts.”

  “That sounds plausible.”

  “He was casting a lot of suspicion on Clementine Hart.”

  “How so?”

  “He said he saw her with the marker Friday night. He also said she always carries around the queen of hearts in her pocket.”

  Macdara gave her a sideways glance. “Someone’s been busy.”

  “Any response from Eamon’s doctor?”

  Macdara sighed. “We don’t have the official death certificate yet. I’m afraid that’s going to take time.”

  Siobhán nodded. It was one of the things she found most frustrating about investigating. The red tape. The waiting. This rumor could either be a lie and would take them on a wild-goose chase, wasting time and money, or it could be the crux of the entire cas
e. If Eamon Foley wasn’t the father, and he found out . . . well, it changed everything. That kind of news was devastating. Had it triggered him to take his own life?

  They headed away from the inn. “Let’s head to the station,” Macdara said. “We’ll take one of the guard vehicles to Henry’s farm.”

  “Good idea.” The official vehicle would bring an added layer of professionalism to the visit. Henry Moore was on the verge of going rogue and needed to be reminded that this was their investigation. “Can we stop at the bistro on the way?” It was going to be a long day, and Siobhán was dying for a cappuccino and a ham-and-cheese toastie, not to mention checking in on her brood. The festival was over, but they would be taking down the tent and putting everything away, so she at least wanted to offer her moral support.

  “Good idea, I wouldn’t mind a cappuccino of courage before we confront Henry Moore.”

  “Music to my ears,” Siobhán said.

  * * *

  James and Elise were standing in front of Naomi’s Bistro, and anyone could see they were in a row. Siobhán pretended not to listen as she headed inside.

  “I can’t believe you,” Elise said. “You said you loved me.”

  Oh, boy. The breakup saga continued. After all the work Elise did for us this weekend? Terrible timing, James. If she didn’t have so much on her plate, she’d sit him down and give him an earful. Why are men so awkward when it comes to emotional matters? Siobhán was going to have to give her a good paycheck. Poor lass. James never did like commitment. All his loves were little time bombs ticking away to the detonation date.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Dara whispered as they entered.

  “Trouble the moment he realizes it’s not paradise,” Siobhán replied. She headed to her beloved cappuccino machine, and as it whirred, she looked out the window, watching Elise cry.

  “You’re staring,” Macdara said.

  “He’s going to end up alone.”

  “He has all of you.”

  “Some days that doesn’t seem like much of a consolation prize.”

  “I thought you didn’t like her.”

  “She grew on me.”

  “The devil you know,” Macdara said with a chuckle.

  “Indeed.”

  “Maybe they’ll work through it.”

  “You never know.” She and Macdara exchanged a look, as everything they’d managed to get through these past few years passed between them in a matter of seconds.