by Zara Keane
I swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Come on in.”
I ushered them inside the cottage and through to my living room, where I spied my cousin and Günter through the window. “Help yourselves to snacks. I’ll be back in a sec.”
I had opened the door before Julie had a chance to ring the bell. My cousin’s boyfriend carried a stack of board games in his arms.
He winked at me. “I brought the least complicated ones in my collection. I figured they’d be easy to explain to newbies.”
“Are we doing a spot of investigating?” Julie whispered in excitement.
I placed a finger over my lips. “Amb and Doug just got here,” I said in a carrying tone. “Want to come through to the living room and set up one of the games?”
While Lenny helped Günter to unpack Settlers of Catan, Julie joined me in the kitchen. “Wow, Maggie. Are you planning to feed seventy people for a month?”
I regarded the piles of salty snacks and sweet treats I’d arranged on trays for my guests. “Did I go overboard?”
“I’m not complaining.” My cousin stole one of Noreen’s mini chocolate muffins from a tray and took a bite. “Yum. This is good.”
Sukey and Felix slept peacefully in their basket, but Mavis rubbed herself against my cousin’s legs.
“She’s Jimmy’s cat,” I said, correctly interpreting my cousin’s look of surprise. “I took her in after Jimmy died.”
“She’s gorgeous.” Julie stroked Mavis’s luxuriant fur, and the cat purred in contentment. “Are you keeping her?”
I regarded the tortoiseshell cat and shrugged. “Now that she’s stopped marking her territory and bullying the other animals, she’s kind of cute.”
“Careful, Maggie. You’ll turn into Noreen.”
“I have no intention of acquiring eight cats. Three’s my upper limit.”
My cousin continued stroking Mavis. “When Reynolds gets back, you’re going to have to make a decision. Do you want to make your fake relationship real? Or do you need more time to get over your break-up?”
I exhaled sharply. “I don’t know. Well, perhaps I do know. Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Did you like being his pretend girlfriend for the weekend?”
“I liked it way more than I’d expected to, and trust me, I’d imagined it a time or two.”
My cousin smiled. “I’m sensing a but here.”
“I made a huge mistake marrying Joe. I don’t trust myself to choose a man who’ll treat me right.”
“From your description of Joe, Reynolds is nothing like him.”
“No, he’s not, but I’m still not sure that making our relationship official is a smart move.”
Julie squeezed my arm. “Come on. Let’s get the Huffington men drunk and see what we can find out.”
Back in the living room, I lined up the ingredients for the Blue Margaritas I’d decided to make as our cocktail option on the drinks table. While I prepared salt-rimmed cocktail glasses, Julie arranged the snack trays on the portable table I’d brought in from my garden. The next hour passed in a blur of cocktails, poteen, and the first round of Settlers of Catan.
Despite Doug’s affable manner, his good humor seemed forced, and his jaw tense. Amb went through the motions of being polite, but his mind was not on the game. After Amb had downed his second Blue Margarita and Doug his third shot of poteen, I asked the question I’d been itching to pose since they’d arrived.
“Any news on the investigation? I heard the police brought someone in for questioning.”
I’d heard nothing to that effect, but it worked as an opening gambit.
“The gardener,” Doug said. “Sergeant O’Shea took him in for questioning earlier today.”
I swallowed my gasp of surprise. “Rob Hennessy?”
Amb nodded. “He had the means and the opportunity, apparently.”
“But no motive,” I pointed out. “What does Rob stand to gain by your father’s death?”
“Dad ordered Hennessy and his brother off the property on the day he died,” Doug said. “The noise from their machines was disturbing him.”
“That’s hardly a motive to kill,” I pointed out. “Your family was only staying at Marley House for the weekend. Rob’s employed by the local council.”
Amb took another gulp of Blue Margarita. “The guy must be insane.”
I chose another tack. “Did either of you see or hear anything suspicious on the night your father died?”
They both shook their heads.
“My room was the farthest away from the swimming pool,” Doug said. “I didn’t even hear Lenny fall over in the suit of armor. The first I knew of something being wrong was when Martha pounded on my door and woke me up to say Dad was dead.”
“I was asleep.” A muscle in Amb’s cheek flexed. “After the…events…at dinner, Candace gave me a sleeping tablet. I was out for the count.”
“Did Candace take one, too?” I asked.
Amb looked at me sharply. “I believe so, yes. Until my sister woke us up to say Dad had been murdered, neither of us left our bedroom.”
If Amb was asleep, how could he know for sure that his wife hadn’t left their bedroom? As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Doug intervened.
“How’s your investigation progressing, Maggie?” he asked, smoothly steering the conversation away from the topic he and his brother obviously didn’t want to discuss. “Grandmother told me she’d hired you to clear Dad’s name.”
“I haven’t uncovered any new info regarding Jimmy Wright’s murder.” I took a deep breath, crossed my fingers, and took a chance. “I’m still trying to track down a witness. I hope they can provide me with vital information.”
“A witness?” Amb’s tone was harsh. “Are you saying the cops accused Dad of murder and didn’t bother to track down a potential witness?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug and sent a silent apology to Liam Reynolds. “Had Sergeant Reynolds remained in charge of the case, I’m sure he’d have gotten around to it.”
“What witness?” Doug demanded. “Was it a man or a woman?”
I thought of Mavis the cat and stifled a giggle. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”
Amb tugged at his collar. “This O’Shea guy never mentioned a witness. I get the impression he’s happy to roll with the idea of Dad being the killer.”
“And it’s not as if our father is alive to defend himself,” Doug added. “Can’t you dig up information to exonerate Dad?”
I looked from one brother to the other, noting the sheen of sweat on Amb’s brow, and Doug’s clenched fists. “I promised your grandmother I’d take another look at the case against Huff, and I’ll keep my word.” I gave them a tight smile. “Tracking down the witness is my first priority.”
THE DAY after our impromptu Unplugged Gamers meeting was the first sunny day of the week. When my shift at the café ended, I longed to avail of the sunny weather and go for a run with Bran. Unfortunately, duty called. I’d arranged to swing by Noel Ahearn’s farm on my way home from work and ask him a few questions about his argument with Jimmy Wright. After stretching shoulders stiff from carrying trays all day, I climbed into the MINI and gunned the engine.
I eased the vehicle into Smuggler’s Cove’s evening traffic, which was heavier in the summer than it had been in the colder months. My progress down the main street of the town was at snail’s pace. I was in line to turn at the crossroads when someone knocked on my car window. Startled, I rolled down the window. “Hi, Tom. What’s up?”
The elderly ferry office attendant flashed his false teeth at me. “Could I trouble you for a lift, Maggie? My car’s in for repairs, and I need to get to Carraig Harbour.”
I reached across the car and opened the passenger door. “Jump in. I’ll pass Carraig Harbour on my way.”
“Thanks.” The old man climbed into the car and closed the door. “I missed the bus. You’re my only chance of getting to work on time.”
I ge
stured at the line of traffic in front of us. “I’m not sure about that. What time do you need to be there?”
“Not for another half an hour. I was working at the Smuggler’s Cove Harbour ticket office until five, and they need me to cover a shift out at Carraig.”
“I guess you work longer hours in the summer months with more frequent ferries.”
“Yeah.” Tom turned on his toothy smile again, and the laugh lines on his craggy face deepened. “Noreen tells me your new private investigation agency is involved in several investigations. Good for you.”
“Two investigations to be precise.” Huff’s murder interested me greatly, but it wasn’t my case, even if I wanted it to be.
“Those Huffingtons certainly know how to bring drama in their wake.” Tom chuckled. “Helen Wright was gone from Whisper Island before I was born, but her reputation lingered.”
“Reputation?”
“Yeah. She was a stunner, according to my father. Broke several hearts before she left for America.”
“She’s still a good-looking woman for her age,” I said vaguely, not particularly interested in Helen’s past as a heartbreaker.
“I’d say that grandson of hers has left a trail of broken hearts in his time. He’s a handsome lad.”
He must be referring to Doug. Amb wasn’t ugly, but he no one would describe him as handsome. “I guess you’ve seen the family around the town.”
“And on the ferry. I sometimes go over and back on the ferry as a steward during tourist season.” Tom chuckled. “It’s a change of scene from the ticket office, and it gets me a spot of fresh air.”
“Right.” I let him rattle on, only half listening. Tom was a nice guy, but he was a notorious talker.
“…but he looked quite different on Thursday. I had to look twice to recognize him.”
My subconscious stirred, turning words I hadn’t absorbed over in my mind. “Hang on a sec. Who didn’t you recognize?”
“The Huffington lad,” Tom said cheerfully. “He looked different without the baggy jeans and the baseball cap.”
I blinked, trying to connect the dots. The outfit Tom had described didn’t sound like the sort of clothes Doug Huffington would wear. He seemed to live in semi-formal attire. “When did you see him wearing baggy jeans and a baseball cap?” I asked. “The day the family came over on the ferry?”
“Ah, no. He was all dolled up the day he came over from the mainland with the rest of them. I was surprised because he’d looked like any other tourist the day before.”
Now my instincts were on red alert. “The day before? Are you saying that Doug Huffington came over to Whisper Island last Wednesday?”
“Yeah. He caught the two o’clock ferry from the mainland.” Tom turned the matter over in his mind. “I didn’t see him catch a return ferry, but he must have done. He was on the ferry with his brother and sister the following morning.”
Doug Huffington had visited the island on the day Jimmy Wright had been murdered. Did Reynolds know? I didn’t think so. We’d discussed the investigation into Jimmy Wright’s murder, and Reynolds had spoken to the Huffingtons. The younger members of the family had been ruled out on the basis that they hadn’t arrived on Whisper Island until the morning after Jimmy’s murder.
Why had Doug come over on the day before he was due to arrive with his siblings? It could be innocent. Maybe he’d wanted to explore without the rest of his family. But if that were the case, why hadn’t he informed Reynolds? I was still turning over the implications in my mind when I pulled into the ferry terminal’s parking lot at Carraig Harbour.
“Thanks for the lift, Maggie.” The old man doffed his cap at me and gave me a roguish wink. “If I were ten years younger, I’d ask you out.”
Make that thirty years younger, I thought in amusement. “Hang on a sec, Tom. I’d like to go over to the mainland later this week. Do I need to book tickets this time of year, or can I just show up?”
“Booking is smarter, especially if you want to bring your car. We sometimes have free places, but there’s no guarantee.”
I killed the engine and opened my door. “In that case, I’ll come with you and buy my ticket now.”
As Tom and I walked across the parking lot to the ticket office, a prickle of awareness made me tense my neck. I looked over my shoulder, but I didn’t recognize anyone I knew among the crowds of tourists lining up in front of the ticket office. I gave myself a mental shaking. The two murders and the attack on Reynolds had made me paranoid.
With a wink and a chuckle, Tom let me in through the staff entrance and got me my ticket for Friday, neatly bypassing the long line.
“Thanks, Tom,” I said when he handed me the ticket.
“No problem. I appreciate you giving me a lift.”
I pocketed the ferry ticket and made my way back through the parking lot to my car. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. In fifteen minutes, I was due to meet Noel Ahearn. In spite of the traffic and the detour to Carraig Harbour, I should still make it on time.
I started the engine and exited the parking lot, turning in the direction of the Ahearn’s farm. With Tom out of the car, I turned up the music on the radio. It was an old Nineties song that I remembered from my childhood. I hummed along tunelessly and navigated the sharp curves of the cliffside road.
When I’d first moved to Whisper Island, the precarious state of the roads had terrified me, but I’d grown used to them. I reached the crest of a particularly steep hill and swore under my breath at the sight of the tractor coming up toward me. The road was too narrow for us to pass one another. I’d need to pull at a curved spot farther down and wait for him to pass.
I resumed my song and rolled down the hill, picking up more speed than I wanted. I pressed the brakes to slow my pace.
Nothing happened.
My heart lurched in my chest and I increased the pressure on the brakes. Still no response. Sweat beaded on my forehead. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. I forced myself to take a deep breath and tried the handbrake. No response. The car rolled faster and faster down the hill, drawing closer to the approaching tractor.
The driver of the tractor sat on his brakes and honked his horn, but his vehicle was too wide to avoid me. I tasted bile. If I didn’t think of a solution quickly, I’d crash.
With seconds to spare, I angled the MINI in the direction of the cliff edge, opened the car door, and hurled myself out onto the road.
23
THE ROUGH ASPHALT tore at my bare arms, scraping them with ruthless precision. Ignoring the pain, I gritted my teeth and rode my adrenaline rush to scramble toward the stone wall opposite the cliff. An almighty crash behind me indicated that my MINI had tumbled over the edge and smashed on the rocks below. Had I delayed another second, I’d have been killed. Breathing hard, I slumped against the wall.
Farther down the road, a man climbed down from the parked tractor and ran toward me.
“Maggie? Are you okay?” Paddy Driscoll’s rough-hewn face was a picture of horror. “What the heck happened?”
I heard a sob and it took me a moment to realize the sound was coming from me. Paddy gathered me into his arms and hugged me tightly. “Thank goodness you’re all right. Noreen would be devastated if anything happened to you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said between gulps of air, “my brakes failed. They were in perfect working order before…” I trailed off, not wanting to reach the inevitable conclusion.
“Before what?” Paddy demanded.
I swallowed past the hard lump in my throat. “They worked fine before I left the car in the Carraig Harbour parking lot.”
An ominous silence descended between us. Finally, Paddy said, “I’m calling the police, and then I’m taking you back to my place for a cup of tea.”
I dabbed at my tears and nodded, too shocked to argue. I was dimly aware of Paddy’s conversation with Reserve Garda Timms. When he put his phone back in his pocket, the big farmer led me over to his tractor and helpe
d me up. Then he drove us the short distance from the scene of the accident to his farmhouse.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to leave the scene of an accident,” I said, realizing the stupidity of my words the moment they were out of my mouth. “Paddy, we need to go back. We’ll get into trouble.”
“No, we won’t. I told Timms you were in shock and that they’d find us at my place. As for your car, that’s beyond saving.”
I choked on a sob and allowed him to lead me into his house and through to his living room. For once, Paddy’s Bullmastiffs didn’t snarl at me, their hostility held in check by a quelling look from their master.
After I was seated in one of Paddy’s enormous overstuffed armchairs, he cleaned and bandaged my scrapes and supplied me with a cup of tea that had been liberally laced with whiskey.
“Get that down you,” he said, shoving the cup at me.
I obeyed but balked when he offered me a second serving. Despite the man’s blatant concern for my welfare, I ran through the vehicles I’d seen parked in front of the ferry ticket office. To my relief, a large green tractor wasn’t among them. Besides, there was no way Paddy could have beaten me to that narrow pass in a tractor as slow as his.
The farmer sat in an armchair opposite mine and eyed me intently. “I hope this isn’t because of your investigation into my missing sheep?”
I shivered and held my cup close to my chest. “I doubt it. It’s more likely to be because I’m looking into Jimmy Wright’s murder on behalf of Helen Huffington.”
Paddy’s smile was wry. “Two birds, one stone, eh? You can ask the same people about Jimmy and my Nancy.”
“Yeah, but I’m afraid I haven’t made any progress with Nancy. I was on my way to meet Noel Ahearn when my brakes failed.”
The wrinkles on Paddy’s brow deepened. “Noel didn’t have anything to do with Nancy’s disappearance.”
“No, but he and Jimmy had a disagreement.”
“Over Noel’s plans to open a pay-to-play car park?” Paddy snorted. “Sure, everyone around here objected to that, including me. Several of us wrote letters to the council and the local newspaper.”