Irish Aisle are Smiling

by Laura Durham

  "Babe," Reese said, his deep sigh crystal clear despite the thousands of miles between us. "You accidentally get involved in more crimes than some career criminals I know."

  "You don't think I wanted the trip to end up this way, do you?" I felt tears prick the backs of my eyes. I'd left Kate to watch over a guilt-stricken Fern while Richard had rushed off to see if he could get us in our Dublin hotel early. None of us relished the thought of waiting until the owner of the bag showed up to claim it, especially since we'd seen what had happened to Colleen and Nancy. Clearly, the thief felt the stolen goods were worth killing over, and now that's we'd seen the artifacts, any one of us could be the next victim. "I'm supposed to be here finding a wedding venue, not evading a murderer."

  "I'm sorry," my boyfriend said. "I know this isn't your fault, but I think Richard's right. The sweet old ladies aren't all so sweet."

  I walked toward one of the two neoclassical statues on each end of the conservatory and admired the carved drapery. "Wait a second. When did you talk to Richard?"

  There was silence from him on the other end, although it sounded like he was walking through a crowd of people. "The other night when he beeped in while we were talking, remember?"

  "And he told you his suspicions about the genealogy tour group?"

  "You know Richard," he said. "He loves to complain."

  That was true. I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the sun as I gazed at the stair-step water cascade outside the conservatory. It began at the top of a hill under a marble columned portico and stretched down a long verdant lawn to spill into a pool with a lounging stone figure I assumed to be a Roman god. Talk about an impressive view.

  "He also asked me to look into some of the women," Reese continued. "Along with the newlyweds who were tagging along."

  "Richard asked you to do background for him?" I felt my mouth dropping open. "I thought you weren't allowed to run checks on people if it wasn't related to your cases?"

  "I'm not, but Richard made it seem like it was life or death over there."

  I turned and walked to the celadon green wicker furniture grouped in the center of the room and flopped down against the green-and-white floral cushions. "Well, for once his drama may not have been exaggerated."

  "Don't let him hear you say that."

  "Never," I said, allowing myself a small smile. "So what did you find out?"

  Muffled voices in the background made him raise his voice. "Not much. The newlyweds were a dead end, although I'm not sure I had enough information to do a decent search since I didn't know where they're from."

  "Richard will be disappointed," I said. "He’s not a big fan of those two."

  "Then he's not going to be happy about the rest either. Aside from some personal scandal, none of the ladies have a criminal record. At least the ones Richard got full names for."

  I sat up. "Scandal? What kind of scandal?"

  "A couple of your women are widows a few times over, including one who's had three husbands die of heart attacks, each one leaving her wealthier than before."

  I felt a flutter of excitement. "Were any of the heart attacks suspicious?"

  "No," Reese said. "Should I be disturbed that your voice perked up at the mention of dead husbands?"

  My cheeks warmed. "My voice didn't perk up. It's just interesting. Who has all the dead husbands? Betty Belle?"

  More loud voices in the background. Georgetown must be hopping, I thought, knowing how crowded the sidewalks could get sometimes, especially when the weather was nice.

  "Someone named Myrna Rooney," he said over the cacophony.

  "Myrna?" I nearly slipped off the rattan armchair. "The steely-haired battle-axe has romanced more than one man?"

  "According to the records," Reese said. "She's pretty well off at this point."

  I thought for a moment. "That explains how she can travel to Ireland every year, but it also eliminates her motive for stealing the artifacts. If she's rich, why would she go to the trouble?"

  "Did you think Myrna was behind the attacks in the first place?" Reese asked.

  I shook my head even though he couldn't see me. "Not really. I mean, she's not exactly warm and fuzzy, but I also don’t think she’d ruin her own trip like this."

  "So she's not the type of woman you'd want to marry, but she probably isn't your killer."

  I leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. "You said more than one of the women had been widowed more than once. Who else?"

  "Colleen, the first victim. She had two husbands and both died, but they didn't leave her wealthy. Actually, she was almost bankrupt when she died."

  "That's interesting," I said. "Fern gave me the impression that all the women on the trip were well-off.”

  "Don’t take Fern’s word as gospel. Only about half of the women Richard told me about are wealthy."

  “Well, even if she desperately needed the money, she can't be the smuggler because she's dead."

  “That does make her a long shot suspect,” Reese said.

  Talking over the potential suspects with my boyfriend had calmed me down a bit, and the peaceful setting hadn't hurt. "Thanks for talking me off the ledge."

  "That's what I'm here for," he said, "although I really wish you were here instead of there. I don't like the idea of you and your band of cohorts gallivanting around Ireland with a killer on your trail."

  "That makes two of us," I said, rubbing a hand across my forehead. "I'm ready to come home and not leave our apartment for a week."

  "Sounds perfect." His voice got husky. "We can tell Leatrice we're going away, then turn off all the lights and not leave the bedroom."

  I couldn't think of what to say as I fanned my face with the nearest cushion. Part of me was ready to dump the bag of artifacts at the door of the nearest Gardaí station and head for the airport. We'd gathered enough information about wedding venues, hadn't we? As I looked over the stunning grounds and made a mental checklist of all the amazing photo ops, something told me that Halsey would end up getting married here.

  "No, you can't get married there," Kate said into her phone as she walked into the conservatory behind me. "The National Zoo does host weddings, but not inside the animal enclosures."

  I raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave me an eye roll that confirmed she was talking to one of our newest clients. Kate was a master of using tough love when it came to narrowing venues for couples. It always astounded me where people wanted to get married and that they couldn't comprehend why it wouldn't work. Only a bride would think it was reasonable to risk being mauled for her wedding.

  "What about the Museum of Natural History?" Kate suggested as she paced the length of the glassed space. "They only recently started allowing wedding receptions. Your guests could eat dinner around the giant elephant."

  "Is that Kate I hear?" Reese asked.

  "Yep. She's talking with one of our new clients." I let out a breath. "That's one thing I'm not looking forward to when we get back. Tons of catch-up meetings."

  "So my idea of hibernating in our bedroom . . .?"

  "May not be completely practical," I said. "But things get slower in late July and early August. Almost no one gets married then."

  "Except wedding planners, right?"

  My throat went dry.

  "Didn't you tell me once that wedding planners and other people in the wedding business plan their own weddings for the off-season?"

  "I told you that?" I asked, hearing the crack in my voice. "And you remembered it?"

  "Of course I remembered."

  "Why do I seem to spend half of my life tracking you down?" Richard asked as he burst into the room. "This time I literally had to go through a secret passageway."

  "I don't even need to ask who that is," Reese said.

  Richard tapped his Gucci watch. "Chop, chop, ladies. We're out of here."

  I stood up. "We just got here. We haven't even toured the property."

  "No need." Richard waved a handful of cater
ing folders. "I got all the information and ran though all the reception rooms. It's perfect. Halsey will love it."

  Kate ended her call and dropped her phone in her bag. "That's it? We haven't even been to our rooms or tasted the food."

  "Let's see." Richard put his hands on his hips. "We can stay overnight and risk being murdered in our sleep when those old birds catch up with us or we can leave for Dublin now and increase our chances of surviving the night. I, for one, would prefer not to be strangled or bashed over the head."

  "That's good enough for me," Kate said, heading for the door. "Dublin, here I come."

  "I'd better go," I said to Reese. "I looks like we're going to be doing the express version of the rest of our trip."

  "You're heading to Dublin now?" Reese asked.

  "I'm guessing Richard worked his magic and got the hotel to let us check in a day early," I said, watching Richard spin on his heel and disappear into the library. "I can tell he's in no mood to accept a four-star hotel."

  "Be careful, babe. I want you back in one piece."

  I headed for the door and twisted my head to take one final look at the beautiful water cascade, my eyes hesitating as I saw two people walking under the portico at the top of the hill. "That's odd."

  "To want you back safely?"

  "No." I shook my head and squinted into the distance, but the figures must have moved behind the columns. "I thought I saw something."

  "Annabelle." Reese sounded worried. "You aren't making sense."

  "It's nothing. My mind is playing tricks on me." I turned away and walked out of the conservatory and into the massive library with black columns and gold chandeliers. The flash of curly blond hair could have been anyone, I told myself.

  Chapter 27

  "But you can't be sure?" Richard asked me for the tenth time since we'd left Ballyfin Demesne, leaning into the aisle of the van since we were sitting across from each other.

  "Of course I can't," I said, keeping one eye on him and one on Buster, who was white-knuckling the steering wheel since we'd entered Dublin. "Like I told you before, the blond curly hair I saw was all the way across the lawn. But for a moment, I thought it might be Grace and they might have followed us."

  "Why?" Fern's head popped up from the seat cushion behind me. "Why would the newlyweds have any reason to follow us if one of the old ladies is smuggling Irish artifacts?"

  "We're sure Grace and Derek weren't outside when we left Dromoland?" Kate asked, her head appearing beside Fern's.

  "I didn't see them," I said.

  "Me neither." Fern shook his head. "And I made sure to hug everyone before leaving."

  I clutched the leather armrest as Buster took a roundabout while Mack called out directions. "After this, take your next left."

  The sun had set, but the city of Dublin was by no means dark. Compared to the quiet countryside we'd been driving through all week, the city was bustling with energy and noise. I looked out the window as we crossed over the river. The reflections of street lamps glowed in long streaks across the rippled surface of the water. Even without the windows open, I could hear the hum of the pubs as we turned onto a busy street.

  "Even if it was them, we didn't see anyone tearing out of the estate after us," Kate said, dropping her voice. "I'm pretty sure from the way Buster's been driving, we would have lost anyone who tried it anyway."

  We all lurched to one side as we took a sharp turn.

  "Doesn't everyone and their brother have our trip itinerary, thanks to Fern?" I asked as Fern's head disappeared from view.

  "But aren't we arriving here a day early?" Kate asked.

  "Yes," I admitted," but I feel like that's not a foolproof way to shake people off our trail."

  Richard waved his hands. "None of that matters. First thing tomorrow, Annabelle is calling the Gardaí and we're handing over our evidence."

  I started to agree, then paused. "Wait, why do I have to be the one to call? I didn't take the bag or open it."

  "You're the one with all the experience dealing with law enforcement," Richard said. "You know I'm still experiencing PTPD."

  I narrowed my gaze at him. "And that would be what exactly?"

  He loosened the collar of his shirt. "Post Traumatic Police Disorder. My skin has been a mess since the Gardaí showed up at Dromoland."

  "I'm pretty sure bad skin isn't a symptom of post traumatic stress," I said.

  His eyes widened. "Annabelle, I am on the verge of a rash here."

  "I'm happy to talk with the police if they're all as cute as Garda Ryan," Kate said.

  "I'll call," I said, knowing that if Kate was in charge and the garda was cute, she might forget about returning the artifacts entirely. "I'll do anything if I can get a good night's sleep first."

  "Your wish is my command," Buster said, bringing the van to an abrupt stop.

  We all looked up at the stately five-story brick hotel. Spotlights illuminated the first few floors and the ornate stucco detailing above the arched windows. A wide glass canopy extended over the entrance, and above that were stone window boxes overflowing with greenery and the flag of Ireland fluttering in the breeze.

  "Hallelujah," Richard said, putting his man bag across his shoulder. "I can smell the five-star service from here."

  Buster opened the van doors and we all filed out as several bellmen rushed forward to unload the luggage and a doorman in tails and a top hat directed us to the revolving wooden entrance. I breathed deeply as we walked into the marble foyer with white columns and a crystal chandelier. A dark wood credenza to one side held a massive display of green-and-white flowers in front of a gilded mirror, which explained why the air smelled of lilies.

  I hitched my black bag higher as I walked past the columns toward the black-and-gold staircase adorned with a candelabra. I glanced up to the second floor, which seemed to be a collection of green-and-white arches and more glittering chandeliers.

  "I've died and gone to heaven," Richard said, taking in the obvious luxury. "You all stay here while I go get our keys."

  I didn't argue while he disappeared, but I did look for a place to sit.

  "Come on." Kate motioned for me to follow her up the stairs. "Let's explore a little."

  "Can't I just explore with my eyes?" I asked. Even though we'd been on the van for the past two hours, I felt worn out from the chaos and stress of the trip.

  Kate got halfway up the staircase and put a hand on her hip. "I thought we were supposed to be checking this out as a potential wedding venue?"

  "Low blow," I muttered, but followed her anyway with Fern, Buster, and Mack right behind me. After assisting me for years, she definitely knew my weak spots.

  We reached the landing and my eyes were drawn to a set of open doors leading into a room that looked like a cross between a bar and a library. On the other side of the landing was a short staircase leading to an open-air terrace.

  "We're going to check out the terrace," Mack said as he and Buster continued to the short flight of stairs. "I love decorating outdoor spaces."

  "We'll be in the bar," Fern said, making a beeline for the dark, clubby room.

  A large oil painting of a man hung in a gold frame over a fireplace on the far wall, and the rest of the walls alternated bookshelves and dark wood paneling. A hunter-green leather bar occupied one half of the room with green leather furniture groupings taking up the rest. Shelving behind the bar held bottles of champagne, each single bottle occupying its own shelf.

  "This is a change from all the white and green," Kate said, plopping down on a high-backed green sofa. "I like it."

  "Is there anything more Irish than books and booze together?" I asked, approaching one of the shelves and running a finger across the spines of the books.

  "This would be a great spot for groomsmen photos," Kate said, swiveling her head. "Can't you just imagine having the guys each perched on one of the bar stools?"

  "Remember we're trying to cut down on the groomsmen drinking before the wedd
ings?" I said.

  "Where's the fun in that?" Fern asked, eying the champagne bottles on the wall.

  "You didn't have to seat half the guests at the last wedding because the groomsmen forgot to come back to the church in time," I told him as I sat down on a red leather barstool. "Kate and I ended up being the stand-in ushers because the ushers and groomsmen were tying one on at the bar around the corner."

  Kate wrinkled her nose. "I did not like being an usher. Guests can be so demanding."

  "Good luck planning a wedding in Ireland where the bridal party doesn't drink," Fern said, sinking down into the couch next to Kate.

  "I don't mind if they drink," I said. "I just want them to do it after the ceremony."

  "Agreed," Kate said. "I hate sending drunk groomsmen down the aisle."

  "Or priests," I said, remembering a wedding not so long ago where the priest had been the one to over-imbibe and pass out mid-ceremony.

  "You always have me as a stand-in," Fern reminded me. "I don't know when I've had as much fun as I did when I got to be the priest for that wedding."

  The thought of Fern's ad-libbed ceremony still made me cringe. It may have been the only wedding ceremony in the history of the world that mentioned bad hair days and the importance of moisturizing. "Let's hope that was a one-off."

  "Do you think this is a working bar?" Fern asked, licking his lips.

  "Considering there's no bartender, I'd say no," Kate said.

  "No worries." Fern produced his flask from the pocket of his brown flannel pants. "I'm prepared for any emergency."

  He popped up and bustled over behind the bar, bending over then placing a pair of cut glass rocks glasses on top of the curved bar. After locating a few more glasses, he began pouring out Irish whiskey from his flask.

  I glanced out the open doors, but didn't see anyone coming. I suppose it wasn't a crime to borrow the hotel's glasses if we were using our own whiskey.

  "Who's idea was it to leave the lobby?" Richard asked, flouncing into the room and leaning on the padded edge of the bar to catch his breath. "I had no idea where you'd gone."