Bernie reached for another peanut and cracked the shell between her thumb and forefinger. She decided that what she liked about peanuts in the shell was that you had to eat them slowly. “So what did you tell them?” she asked.
“I didn’t tell them anything because there’s nothing to tell,” Brandon replied. “I haven’t seen Liza since the night Mike Sweeney died.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“About her?”
“No. About my dad.”
Brandon shook his head. “Not a peep. It’s like she’s disappeared from sight.”
“Was she in here a lot?” Libby asked.
“She’d stop in at least three or four times a week with the other potato heads.”
Libby wrinkled her forehead. “Potato heads?”
“He means Sweeney and Liam and those guys,” Bernie explained. “So,” she said to Brandon, “I don’t suppose that by any chance you heard any of those guys saying anything about her?”
Brandon straightened up. “What are you implying?” he asked Bernie.
Bernie rolled her eyes. “I’m not implying anything.“
“You most certainly are. You’re implying that I eavesdrop on my customers, a suggestion I find abhorrent in the extrem Sin “e.”
Libby giggled. “Like you’re not the gossip queen.”
“Queen?” Brandon squeaked. “You’re calling me a queen now?”
“Okay, a king then,” Libby said.
Brandon tried to look offended. “That’s terrible.”
Libby giggled harder. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed to get out.
“I didn’t think it was that funny,” he said when Libby stopped laughing. “Seriously,” Brandon said.
Libby tried to look repentant. “You’re right.”
Bernie decided it was time to intervene. “Okay, Brandon,” she said. “Let me ask you another question. Do you think it’s possible that Liza put some kind of knockout drops in Duncan’s drink?”
“For real?” Brandon asked.
Bernie nodded.
“It’s a theory we’re exploring,” Libby added. “So what do you think?”
“I think it’s certainly possible; anything is possible. But there’s no way I can tell you for certain. I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“There weren’t a lot of people in here that night,” Bernie observed.
“I know, but I was busy cleaning and then I was reading the newspaper for a little while. I wasn’t watching Liza, Duncan, or Sweeney. I mean she was sitting between both guys, but ...” Brandon shrugged his shoulders.
“But what?” Bernie asked.
“I remember Duncan and Sweeney both hit the head a couple of times. I suppose Liza could have put the stuff in Duncan’s beer then.”
“Was Duncan acting weird?” Bernie asked Brandon.
“Weird as in how?”
“Weird as in spacey,” Libby said.
“No more than usual.” Brandon straightened up. “Of course, that’s the beauty with roofies. People act the way they usually do. They’re just more suggestible. Of course, the same holds true of Oxis.”
“Oxis?” Bernie asked.
“Oxycontin,” Brandon said. “The painkillers.”
“I know what they are,” Bernie told him. “But I didn’t know they did that.”
Brandon shrugged. “Evidently they have that effect on some people.”
“Who knew?” Bernie said.
Brandon laughed. “Not me, that’s for sure. At least not until Spike told me.”
Libby cleared her throat. Bernie and Brandon looked at her.
“So you didn’t notice anything odd about Duncan’s behavior?” Libby asked again. “Anything at all?”
Brandon shook his head. “Nope. I can’t say I did, but then, like I said, I really wasn’t paying attention.” He was about to say something else whe
n the front door banged open and the remaining members of the Corned Beef and Cabbage Club rolled into the bar.
Brandon nodded toward them. “Apparently it’s your lucky day. Now you can ask the guys about Liza yourselves.”
Chapter 7
Bernie watched as Brandon ambled down to serve Liam, Patrick, and Connor. “Hey,” he said. “You guys are early today. Vrni Did they finally decide to fire you losers?”
“Cute,” Liam said. “In answer to your question, no. They have not decided to fire us. We have declared this day an official day of mourning for our fallen brother. We would all like black and tans,” he told Brandon as he, Pat, and Connor bellied up to the bar.
As Bernie studied them, she realized that the guys all looked the same—big and burly with fair skin, light brown hair, and hazel eyes. Duncan was thinner than the rest of them by a wide margin. But Mike Sweeney had been the same size as the other three. Now she remembered that he, Patrick, Liam, and Connor had all been rugby players, whereas Duncan had not. Probably hadn’t wanted to mess up his perfect features.
So given that, the question was how had Duncan held Sweeney’s head under when Sweeney outweighed him by a good fifty pounds? She supposed he could have. Anything was possible. But it would have been a real struggle, something that would have been much easier for Liam, Patrick, or Connor to do, unless of course Duncan had knocked him unconscious first.
But according to Clyde the ME said that hadn’t happened. And even if it had happened, it still would have been very difficult to drag Sweeney over to one of the barrels, lift him up, and hold his head under. Bernie was still trying to work out the scenario as she got off her bar stool and walked over to the guys.
“Hi,” she said to them. “Let me buy you this round.”
“We won’t say no,” Liam told her, not hiding the fact that he was looking her up and down.
She turned to Brandon. “Put their drinks on my tab.”
Brandon nodded. “Will do.”
“Thanks,” Patrick said. He was wearing a blue and green tie. He leered at her. “You’re looking good since you got back from Cali. Real good, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Yeah,” Liam joined in. “I was just thinking that myself.”
Connor grinned. “What do you want with that lug,” he asked Bernie, nodding in Brandon’s direction, “when you can have one of us?”
“Or all of us,” Liam said.
Brandon scowled and started toward them, but Bernie held him off with a look. “Have any of you guys seen Liza?” she asked, ignoring their comments.
“Why do you want to know?” Liam demanded. “You want to make it a foursome?”
“Fivesome, wet brain,” Connor said to Liam. “Learn how to count.”
Liam shrugged. “That’s not my best ability.”
“Hey,” Brandon growled. “Let’s show some respect here.”
“Don’t you have a sense of humor?” Liam asked him.
Brandon got red in the face. “Not in this case.”
“Lighten up,” Liam told him. “We’re only goofing.”
“Just so you know,” Brandon said.
Liam put both hands in the air, palms outward. “I get it. I get it.”
“Good,” Brandon said. He came over and slammed the men’s drinks in front of them. Then he moved a short distance away, leaned on the back of the bar, crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered as Libby got down from her seat and walked over.
“Your sister’s boyfriend is pretty touchy,” Patrick said to her.
“Listen,” Libby replied. “Why don’t you stop being a jerk?”
Patrick took a gulp of his beer and put his bottle back down. “Well, I’ll say one thing for you. You’re certainly direct.”
“And feisty too,” Connor said.
“I like that in a woman,” Liam added.
Libby ignored them and went on with what she was saying. “We need to find Liza.”
“Good for you,” Liam told her.
“My sister and I are working for your pal Duncan. Liza has information that co
uld be valuable to his defense.”
“Hurray for you,” Liam said.
“It would be real helpful to Duncan if we could find her,” Bernie said.
“Well, we all want to be helpful to Duncan, don’t we?” Liam asked Patrick.
Patrick nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Without a doubt,” Connor said.
Liam turned to Patrick. “Have you seen Liza?”
Patrick shook his head.
He turned to Connor. “Have you?”
“Nope.”
He turned back to Bernie and Libby. “And I know that I haven’t. Any more questions?”
“Yeah,” Bernie said. “Where do you think she went?”
Liam shrugged. “How would I know?”
“You’re her friend, aren’t you?” Libby asked.
Liam took another sip of his drink before replying. “In a manner of speaking.”
“What manner of speaking is that?” Bernie asked.
“Listen,” Liam said, “she’s a drinking buddy. That’s it. You want to know any more you’ll have to ask Duncan.”
“We already have. He doesn’t know anything. That’s why we’re here.”
“Well, you could have saved yourself the trip,” Patrick said. “Because we haven’t seen her since that night.”
Bernie took a deep breath. “Does she take off like this often?” she asked.
Connor shrugged. “Often enough. She’s not what you would call the most stable of people.”
“Not at all,” Liam agreed.
“Do you think Liza would put knockout drops in Duncan’s drink?” Libby asked.
Liam burst out laughing. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, she’s not,” Bernie said.
“Why would she do that?” Patrick asked. “That is by far one of the stupidest things I have ever heard.”
“Well, Duncan says he was set up for Mike Sweeney’s murder and that he doesn’t remember anything after the first beer he had that night, hence the assumption that Liza put something in his drink. Unless you did.”
Connor untied his tie, then pulled it off, folded it up, and put it in his breast pocket. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” he scoffed. “Duncan’s nuts, and if you believe him, you’re nuts too.”
“So you think that Duncan killed Mike Sweeney?” Bernie asked him.
“I didn’t say that,” Connor said sharply.
“Then who do you think did?” Bernie asked.
“How about a pissed off leprechaun,” Liam said. “I understand they have very bad tempers when aroused.”
Libby took a step closer. “Maybe one of you killed Mike Sweeney,” she said.
“Maybe one of us did,” Patrick agreed. He grinned. “Good luck proving it though.”
“So you want Duncan to take the fall for this?” Bernie asked.
“Duncan will be fine,” Liam said. “He’ll come out of it smelling like a rose.”
“A wild Irish rose,” Patrick added.
“You don’t seem very sad about Mike Sweeney’s death,” Bernie observed.
“Of course, I’m sad,” Liam said. “We just grieve in our own ways.”
“And what way is that?” Libby asked.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Liam asked.
“Not to me,” Libby said.
“We drink,” Liam said. “And now, if you’ll excuse me I think it’s time for Connor and Patrick and me to get down to the serious business of mourning.” And he turned around and faced the bar.
Bernie studied the three men for a moment. Then she said to Libby, “Come on. I think we’re through here.”
They were going out the door when Liam’s wife, Kylie, brushed by them. She stormed over to Liam, slapped him across the face, and marched back out.
Libby looked at Bernie and Bernie looked at Libby. They both thought the same thing.
An angry wife? This was too good an opportunity to waste. By the time they were out the door, Liam’s wife had gotten into her silver Infiniti and was backing out of the parking lot.
“I’m driving,” Bernie said, as she and Libby ran for their van.
Chapter 8
The Infiniti was a quarter of the way down the block by the time Bernie had muscled the van out of the parking lot.
“Hurry up,” Libby cried. “You’re going to lose her.”
“I’m trying,” Bernie told Libby as she gained on the Infiniti. “I’m not exactly driving a BMW here, you know.”
The Infiniti turned onto Randall Road and so did the sisters. By now they were three car lengths behind Kylie. Fortunately traffic was heavy, otherwise Kylie would have left them in the dust.
“I wonder what Kylie was so pissed about,” Libby said.
“It’ll be interesting to talk to her,” Bernie observed.
“Do you think she will? Talk to us?” Libby asked.
“Not a clue,” Bernie said. She kept her eyes on the silver Infiniti.
“She might just tell us to go to hell,” Libby said.
“She might,” Bernie agreed. “But then again, she might not.”
“Which we won’t know until we try.”
“Exactly,” Bernie said.
“And she did seem really, really angry at Liam,” Libby continued.
“Indeed she did. That was not a love tap she gave him. So she might be more disposed to talk about things she’d otherwise prefer to keep hidden.”
“Anger does that to people,” Libby observed.
“Like you,” Bernie said.
“And you, Bernie.”
“I never said ^v wed/sp it didn’t, Libby.”
The sisters were silent for a moment. Bernie concentrated on Kylie’s car, while Libby thought about how they were going to talk to Kylie when they caught up with her.
“I think she’s going to the mall,” Libby said as the Infiniti turned off onto Ash.
“Oh goody,” Bernie said. “We can get you some clothes while we’re there. I love multitasking.”
Libby frowned. She hated shopping, especially shopping with her sister. She made her try things on. “We won’t have time.”
Bernie grinned. “Trust me, Libby. There’s always time to shop.”
Neither sister said anything else until after Bernie had parked the van and they’d walked into the mall. During the weekend the place was packed, but this was a weekday afternoon and no one was around. After five minutes of looking, Bernie and Libby spied Kylie at Banana Republic. She was browsing through a rack full of pencil skirts in various patterns.
“Hi,” Bernie said to her.
Kylie turned. She was holding a black and white tweed pencil skirt in her left hand and a brown and white checked one in her right. Bernie reflected that Kylie was one of those natural blondes who are stunning when they’re eighteen and faded by the time they’re thirty. At twenty-five she was well on her way to the negative side of the equation. Of course, Bernie thought, the fact that Kylie wasn’t wearing any makeup didn’t help matters.
Neither did the fact that she’d gained about thirty pounds since Bernie had last seen her, a sure sign that things were not going well. Hence the muffin top spilling over the top of her skinny jeans. Some people, Bernie decided, should not wear skinny jeans. No. Cancel that thought. Most people shouldn’t wear skinny jeans. They didn’t do anyone any favors.
“I think I’d go for the black and white tweed,” Bernie told Kylie. “You’ll get more wear out of it.”
Kylie spun around. “I just saw you in the bar,” she said.
“I know,” Bernie gushed. “Life is just one big coincidence, isn’t it?”
Kylie frowned. “And now you’re here.”
Bernie smiled her winningest smile. “So it would seem. Great minds with a single thought and all that.” She leaned in. “My sister and I are going shopping.”
Kylie glanced at Libby and frowned. “I so don’t believe that. What do you want with me?”
Bernie kept smil
ing. “Would you believe we’re here to give you some fashion advice?”
“Right.” Kylie put both skirts back and moved to the next rack.
Bernie moved with her, while Libby stayed slightly in the background.
“They are a little pricy for what they are,” Bernie noted. “I used to like Banana more two or three years ago.”
Kylie didn’t say anything.
“Okay, you got me,” Bernie conceded. “We followed you here.”
Kylie stopped at a display of cardigans. She lifted up a bright pink sweater, held it to her, then put it down and walked on. “There’s a shocker.”
“We want to talk to you about Liam.”
Kylie moved on to the rack of white blouses. Libby and Bernie followed.
“That’s nice,” Kylie told Bernie as she looked through the merchandise. “Because I don’t want to talk to you. About anything. coutice So if you don’t mind, could you please leave me alone?”
And Kylie pulled a long-sleeved, white cotton blouse with a Peter Pan collar off the rack, walked over to the mirror, and held the blouse up in front of her. She studied her reflection in the mirror, cocking her head first to one side and then to the other.
Libby moved closer. Kylie ignored her.
“It must be hard,” Libby said softly, “going through what you’re going through with Liam.”
Kylie turned to face her. “How do you know I’m going through anything?” she demanded.
“You looked pretty upset to me back in the bar,” Bernie told her.
Kylie frowned, walked over, and hung the blouse back where she’d found it.
“How long have you been married?” Libby asked.
“A year. A year and a half,” Kylie said, still looking at the blouses.
“Not that long,” Bernie commented.
“Long enough,” Kylie replied. There was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice.
“He wasn’t what you thought he’d be?” Libby asked gently.
Kylie shook her head and avoided eye contact. She pulled out a blouse and put it back. Bernie and Libby waited for her to start talking. They knew that she would. It would just take a little time, and they could wait.
“I mean I knew Liam had issues,” Kylie said when she did start to speak. “But he always treated me nice. He took me to Puerto Rico. He took me on a cruise. He bought me jewelry. He got me a car. He even paid for our wedding.”
A Catered St. Patrick's Day Page 7