The Postman Always Dies Twice (Movie Club Mysteries, Book 2): An Irish Cozy Mystery

by Zara Keane

  “I have a half day on Thursday because it’s the day before St. Patrick’s Day,” Julie mused. “I could make the one o’clock ferry. Would that work for you?”

  I looked at my aunt. Since moving to Whisper Island, I’d worked at Noreen’s café several times a week. Thursday afternoon and evening was currently one of my shifts. “Could I swap a day with you, Noreen?”

  “Sure. How about the Saturday after St. Patrick’s Day? You’re due to serve the Unplugged Gamers that evening in any case for their annual contest night.”

  The Unplugged Gamers, of which Lenny was president, met at the café every other Thursday to play board games and other tabletop games. As a way to earn a little extra money, my aunt had hit upon the idea of offering her café to the island’s various clubs every evening. In return for using her premises free of charge, the club members agreed to buy food and drinks. Since my arrival on the island, I’d covered several of these club evening shifts, and I was a participating member of three clubs: the Movie Club, the Unplugged Gamers, and the Book Club. The Saturday event was an extra meeting, allegedly to hold a contest. As far as I could tell, we were using it as an excuse to party.

  “Saturday is perfect,” I said. “Thanks, Noreen. If you need anything from the mainland, let me know.”

  My aunt clucked her tongue. “Never mind what I need. What you need is a date. It’s a pity Sergeant Reynolds is a no-show.”

  My stomach sank at this unwanted reminder. My disappointment at the sergeant’s absence annoyed me more than the man’s failure to appear. A harmless flirtation was one thing, but developing feelings for the guy was out of the question. “He’s my neighbor. No more and no less.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll persuade him to be more than a neighbor.” My aunt beamed at me. “In the meantime, Philomena and I made a list of all the eligible bachelors on the island. We’d like you to have a look at it and see if one of them strikes your fancy.”

  “Oh, no.” I took a step back and held up my hands. “No more matchmaking. I’m still recovering from your attempt to throw me and Paddy Driscoll together at the town hall dance.”

  Lenny snorted with laughter. “Watching you two stagger around the dance floor was priceless.”

  Even when he wasn’t freaking out about Union Jacks and sheep dressed in acrylic coats, Paddy was grumpy. In addition to his antisocial attitude, he was old enough to be my father. I’d pointed this out to my aunts many times, but as far as they were concerned, the man owned land, and this automatically made him a great catch.

  Noreen pulled a piece of folded-up paper from her purse. “At least consider the list, love. You don’t have to marry one of them, but it’s time you got back in the dating game.”

  “It’s been barely three months since I left Joe,” I said. “That experience has put me off relationships for quite some time.”

  “Promise me you’ll think about it. That’s all I ask.”

  I sighed. If I didn’t agree to look at the list, she’d hound me day and night. “Okay. I’ll read it, but that’s all I’m promising. Deal?”

  My aunt’s face stretched into a smile. She thrust the list at me, and I took it gingerly, wary of its contents. Noreen glanced at her watch. “Well, if we can’t screen the promised film, we can at least serve the Movie Club members cocktails.”

  I took the hint. “I’ll start mixing.”

  “I’ll help you,” Julie said.

  Out in the café, the club members were getting restless. Philomena, Julie’s mother, stood behind the drinks counter, shaking cocktails like a pro. Like Noreen, her curly hair was cut short and dyed a color nature hadn’t given her. But where her sister had opted for jet black, Philomena had chosen platinum blond. Few people could pull off the look, but Philomena could.

  “Did Lenny manage to fix the projector?” she asked when Julie and I slid behind the counter to join her.

  “Unfortunately, no.” I tied my apron in place and washed my hands at the sink. “We’ll have to hope the club members are satisfied with cocktails instead.”

  “That’s a shame,” Miss Flynn said from the other side of the counter. “Milly and I were looking forward to watching The Postman Always Rings Twice again. We haven’t seen it in years.”

  Miss Flynn and her friend, Miss Murphy, were regular patrons of the Movie Theater Café and known as the Spinsters. Both in their sixties, the women wore their iron-gray hair pulled back into tight buns and favored tweed twinsets offset by pearl necklaces. The Spinsters were retired schoolteachers and shared a house in Smuggler’s Cove. From my first days working at the café, I’d liked them, and I was grateful for their help in teaching me how to make a proper cup of tea.

  “Lenny is bringing the projector to the mainland to be repaired,” I said. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to watch the film at the next meeting. In the meantime, can I make you a drink?”

  Miss Flynn’s lined face lit up. “I’d love one of those sidecar things you made me at the last meeting. And Millie likes the frothy white ones with the pineapple.”

  I smiled. “One sidecar and one pina colada coming right up.”

  The rest of the evening passed in a flurry of chopping fruit and shaking cocktails. Once they’d been supplied with drinks and Noreen’s delicious sandwiches and baked goods, the Movie Club members were able to roll with the disappointment of the canceled movie. By the time the meeting broke up at ten, my arms were tired from shaking, and my feet ached in my high-heeled shoes. I loved making an effort and following the Movie Club’s tradition of formal dress, but I wasn’t used to standing in fancy shoes for long periods of time.

  “That went well,” my cousin said when we were loading the dishwasher.

  “Yeah. We dodged a bullet through bribing them with sugar and alcohol. I only wish that trick worked to stop Noreen and your mother from trying to matchmake me with every single man on Whisper Island.” Especially when the only man I was interested in hadn’t bothered to show up. “Can you believe they made me a list? Why aren’t they trying to matchmake you?”

  Julie gave a half laugh. “They’ve given me up as a lost cause.”

  “No way. You’re a much more likely candidate than me. You’re settled on the island, and you want to stay.”

  My cousin rolled her eyes. “Mum’s hoping I’ll get together with Günter. That will never fly.”

  “He’s a nice guy,” I said, “and intelligent.”

  She shrugged. “Günter and I rub each other the wrong way. Besides, the two times I gave in and let Mum and Noreen set me up on a date, they were disastrous. Never again. Maybe I’m not the relationship type.”

  “What about all the training you’ve been doing for the Runathon?” I asked, referring to the charity race that would be held on St. Patrick’s Day. “Wasn’t that for the hunky gym teacher’s benefit?”

  My cousin’s face fell. “Oisin’s gone on four dates with Mandy Keogh.”

  Ouch. “Is she the leggy blond barmaid from the pub?”

  “Exactly,” Julie said gloomily. “I don’t stand a chance. She’s everything I’m not: blond, tall, and thin.”

  “Don’t give up. Oisin doesn’t even know you’re interested in him.”

  “That’s not the point,” she said. “I want him to be interested in me. I don’t intend to run after him.”

  “Says the woman who goes out training every second morning for a race. If that’s not running after Oisin, I don’t know what is.”

  My cousin grinned. “Let’s have a look at that list, just for a laugh.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know who’s on there,” I said, but handed it over.

  Julie scanned the piece of paper and burst out laughing. “Oh, no. Poor Maggie. There’s not a man on the list who’s under forty-five. They’ve even included Aaron Nesbitt.”

  “Ugh.” I shuddered. The owner of Whisper Island’s only law firm was a nice enough guy, but he had to be old enough to be my father. “Shred that list, please.”

  Still l
aughing, Julie put the list of not-so-eligible bachelors into the paper recycling container. “Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to join me at the hotel spa for a massage tomorrow afternoon. My parents got me a gift certificate for my last birthday. There’s enough money on the card to cover two massages, and they had a cancellation.”

  I was touched that my cousin had thought of inviting me. Reconnecting with Julie and my other Irish relatives and friends had been the highlight of my stay on the island. Okay, given that a chunk of my time here had been spent investigating a murder, my friends and family hadn’t exactly had stiff competition in the ‘best-of’ category. “I’d love to join you, but are you sure you don’t want to save the second massage for yourself?”

  Julie shook her head, making one of her curls escape the confines of the bun “I need to use the gift certificate before it expires. Besides, I’d rather have company. It’ll make the whole experience more fun.”

  “In that case, I’d be honored to come along. What time have you booked the massages?”

  “Four o’clock. That gives me enough time to pack up my stuff at the school and drive to the Whisper Island Hotel.”

  “You’re working on a Saturday?”

  Julie scrunched up her nose. “Yeah. I have a pile of paperwork to get through, and I’d rather not haul it all home. Plus I need to prep for my class’s spring play. We should have started rehearsals last week, but I’m running behind.”

  “Sounds like you need the massage.”

  My cousin sighed. “Tell me about it. It’s the typical scenario of more paperwork and extracurricular requirements for teachers, but no extra pay. So will the four o’clock slot work for you?”

  “Perfectly. I’m at the café until three, and Kelly is due to stay until closing.” I dropped my voice, in case Noreen overheard. “I’m actually looking around for another job, so if you hear of one, let me know.”

  Julie’s eyes widened. “Do you want to quit the café? I thought you were happy working here.”

  “I am, but I suspect Noreen is inventing work for me. This time of year, the Movie Theater Café isn’t busy enough to justify the number of shifts she’s giving me. Besides, I could do with some extra cash. I spent the last of my savings on a car, and I’d like to pick up more work to make ends meet.”

  “I suppose,” my cousin began carefully, “divorce doesn’t come cheap.”

  “That’s an understatement. At least my lawyer has agreed to wait for the rest of her money until after Joe and I reach a settlement.”

  Julie frowned. “How long is that going to take?”

  “Joe is fighting me over every cent. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’ll roll over and agree to whatever lousy settlement he offers if he keeps up the pressure. Then the next minute, he’s sending me maudlin love letters that contain more digs about my failings as a wife than apologies for cheating on me.”

  “Swine,” Julie muttered.

  “That’s an insult to pigs everywhere,” I said dryly. “But to sum up, until I get my divorce settlement, I’m low on funds. And frankly, I don’t intend to rely on that money. I’d rather find a job.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be having a holiday? Some time to reassess your life?”

  My lips twisted ironically. “I don’t think I know how to take a real vacation. I like to be active, and I want to feel useful. And I can’t let Noreen invent work for me. She can’t afford it.”

  “Do you have any idea what sort of job you’d like to do?”

  “I’m not picky. I’m not looking for a new and fulfilling career for the couple of months I have left on the island. Just a part-time job that’ll bring in some cash and keep me busy.”

  “I can’t think of anything off the top of my head,” Julie said, “but I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone looking to hire staff.”

  “I know it’s a bad time of year to be looking for work on the island, but I can still try.”

  “Absolutely. You’d have better luck during the tourist season, but I’m sure something will turn up.”

  A knock drew my attention to the kitchen door. Lenny lounged in the doorway, wearing the ill-fitting suit he always wore to club meetings, and that I suspected had once been his father’s—circa nineteen seventy-five. “Are you ready to go, Maggie?” he asked. “Noreen’s decided to stay overnight with Philomena, so she’s having another drink. I’ve offered to drive you home.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to send you on a wild ride around the island when you live so close to the café.”

  “Actually, I told my grandfather I’d spend the night at his place, and he’s not far from you. He’s a bit freaked out after those activists broke into his cowshed.”

  “I can understand that, but don’t your brother and cousin live nearby? Can’t they look out for him?”

  “Carl’s working late at the hotel.” Lenny pulled a face. “As for Jack…he comes and goes. Even when he’s at home, he and granddad aren’t close. The only reason they live near each other is that Jack inherited the land from his father. Up until his father died, he lived all over the place doing goodness knows what to earn a living.”

  “Jack strikes me as the kind of guy who’s not fussy about where his money comes from.” I switched on the dishwasher and straightened. “Thanks for the offer of a ride. I’ll just grab my bag from behind the counter, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  After we’d said goodbye to my aunts and Julie, Lenny and I exited the Movie Theater Café and ran the short distance to where Lenny’s VW van was parked in front of his parents’ electronics store. A strong wind had blown in from the sea in the couple of hours since I’d arrived at the café, and rain lashed down, soaking us before we’d reached the van.

  “Looks like the weather forecast got it wrong again,” Lenny said when we were in the vehicle. “The storm wasn’t supposed to hit the island until tomorrow afternoon.”

  A bolt of lightning zigzagged across the night sky, accompanied by a roar of thunder. Out in the bay, the waves crashed and foamed against the rocks with a ferocity I’d last seen the night Günter Hauptmann’s houseboat had been destroyed.

  “I’ll be glad to be snug in my bed tonight,” I said after I’d buckled my seat belt.

  “Same here. Although my bed is likely to be a sleeping bag in granddad’s spare room.”

  “What exactly did the activists do to your grandfather’s cows?” I asked after we’d passed the school on the edge of town.

  “They spray-painted the walls with anti-cattle farming slogans, and scared the cows. The eejits apparently can’t tell the difference between dairy farming and beef farming.”

  “I’m sorry to hear they gave your grandfather a fright.” Gerry Logan was another semi-permanent fixture at the café, along with his friend, also called Gerry. I was fond of the old man, and I hated to think of him being terrorized.

  “That’s the part that bothers me most,” Lenny said. “I agree with many of the sentiments expressed by the activists, but I don’t like them going around invading people’s property and scaring old men.”

  We drove out of Smuggler’s Cove and took the road that led to the other side of the island. The side I lived on was the less populated area of Whisper Island. Half of the population lived in the small town of Smuggler’s Cove and its outskirts, and the rest of the island’s inhabitants were scattered around the island on farms or other small homesteads. The cottage where I lived was in an area populated with sheep farmers, apart from Noreen. It took us thirty minutes to drive there, with Lenny’s windshield wipers working overtime. When we reached a sharp curve in the winding cliffside road that led toward Shamrock Cottages, Lenny braked hard.

  “Whoa,” he said. “What lunatic parks in the middle of the road?”

  I eyed the vehicle’s lights with trepidation. “Pull over. I think something’s wrong. Maybe they’ve broken down.”

  “They could at least have pushed the car to the side of the road,” Lenny muttered. “I almost drove i
nto them.”

  My friend pulled his van into the ditch and killed the engine. After tossing my high-heeled shoes into the back of the van, I jumped out and ran down the road. The heavy rain ran down my face in rivulets, and the wind almost blew me off my feet. When I neared the other vehicle, I recognized the logo of An Post, the Irish postal service. “Lenny,” I shouted over the roar of the storm. “It’s the mail van. No one’s in the driver’s seat.”

  The van’s lights lit up the road, making me shield my eyes from their glare. An icy fear snaked down my spine. I had a bad feeling about this. I leaned in the open driver’s door and scanned the vehicle. All I gleaned from my cursory search was that Eddie Ward kept his work van tidy and that he had a penchant for a particularly vile brand of chewing gum.

  My brow furrowed, I straightened and edged my way toward the cliff. Cautious not to go too close to the edge, I peered down at the crashing waves below. Despite the storm, the full moon helped me to see more than I otherwise could have. I scanned the beach. And then I spotted the sight I’d hoped not to see. I tasted bile. “Call an ambulance, Lenny. And the police. There’s a body at the bottom of the cliff.”

  4

  Despite his shocked expression, Lenny didn’t waste time. He’d whipped out his phone and hit the button for emergency services before I’d had a chance to repeat myself. He explained the situation to the dispatcher and rattled off our location like a pro. After he’d disconnected, he came to join me at the edge of the cliff. We stared down at the broken remains of the Whisper Island postman. I shivered and drew my jacket tight around my chest. Even at this distance, the moonlight illuminated the man’s familiar uniform. Who else would be crazy enough to wear shorts in Ireland in March?

  Lenny swore beneath his breath. “He looks pretty dead to me.”

  “Yeah, but we still have to try to get down there,” I said grimly. “The tide’s coming in.”

  Lenny jerked around and stared at me in horror. “Are you mad? We can’t go climbing down the cliff. You’re not even wearing shoes. Why don’t we wait for the paramedics?”