by Zara Keane
“Bingo.”
“And it gets worse,” Lenny added. “Dr. Reilly claims a vial of sodium nitroprusside is missing from his medical supplies, and they were all accounted for when Mack made the delivery.”
I turned to Lenny. “Your grandfather can’t have been the only patient present at the clinic when Mack showed up. Anyone there might have taken the medicine, or it might have been stolen on another occasion.”
“Sure, but it’s circumstantial evidence. The more stuff like this the police dig up, the worse it looks for Granddad.”
“Reynolds asked me for a list of people I’d seen at the clinic,” Mack said, “and I’m sure he’s asked Dr. Reilly for confirmation of all the patients he saw between my delivery last Wednesday and the night of the murder.”
“I’d like to know who’s on that list,” I said, “but before we get to that, do you know when Dr. Reilly discovered the vial was missing?”
“Not until after the murder. Once the cause of death was confirmed, Reynolds asked both the pharmacy and the Whisper Island Medical Centre to check our supplies. We’re the only places on the island that would have it in stock.”
I took another sip of my cocktail and considered all I’d learned so far. “I’d like to see Dr. Reilly’s list of patients, but I guess that won’t happen. What about the people you saw in the waiting room the day you made the delivery?”
Mack pulled out his phone and made a few swipes over the display. “I don’t know all of them by name, but here’s what I wrote down. Apart from Gerry Logan, Paddy Driscoll was there, as was Sister Pauline. There was a mother with two small kids. I think she’s married to Pete McCarthy, one of the island’s volunteer firemen, but I don’t know her name.”
“Sheila,” Lenny supplied. “Who else is on the list?”
“Only two more. A blond woman around our age, and a dark-haired guy who I think works at the hotel, but I’m not sure.”
My ears pricked up. “A guy from the hotel? Where have you seen him there?”
Mack frowned. “I can’t remember. The bar, maybe? I’m not even sure why I thought he worked at the hotel. He might just have been at the bar one night.”
“You have a good memory for faces,” I said. “Most witnesses are vague when asked to make a list of people they saw a week ago.”
He laughed. “Sheer luck. The medical assistant who helps me unpack the delivery was busy when I arrived and I had to wait. That’s the only reason I paid any attention to who was in the waiting room.”
“Returning to the medication, how easy is sodium nitroprusside to use for someone with no medical knowledge?”
The pharmacist considered my question for a moment before answering. “When he questioned me about the delivery, Reynolds mentioned that the sodium nitroprusside found in the poteen was used in its undiluted form. That would be easy enough for anyone to do.” At my perplexed expression, the pharmacist elaborated. “The substance found in Gerry’s bathroom is usually administered with an IV drip and diluted with saline solution. That would require some medical knowledge. But if it was just dumped into the poteen undiluted, anyone could do that.”
“Is undiluted sodium nitroprusside always fatal?”
“It depends on the amount, of course, but yeah, it could lead to an overdose.”
“And it was put into alcohol,” Lenny added. “With Ward being a diabetic, it could have made the laced alcohol work faster on his system.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Eddie Ward was diabetic? Are you sure?” For some reason, this detail bothered me, but at that moment, I couldn’t pinpoint why.
Lenny shrugged. “I’m just going on what Reynolds told me. That’s what’s in the pathologist’s report.”
“The medication could have been taken by anyone, and we’ve already said that most people on the island have a bottle of his poteen. Does Reynolds have any other evidence against your grandfather?”
Lenny took a large gulp of his cocktail. “Unfortunately, yeah.”
“Go on.”
“You know the injuries to Ward’s face?”
“Yeah…” My stomach lurched at what I was afraid Lenny would say next.
“The pathologist is convinced some of those injuries occurred after death but before the body went over the cliff.” Lenny leaned forward in his seat, cradling his cocktail glass between the palms of his hands. “Reynolds found blood belonging to the dead man on the handle of Granddad’s ax.”
I exhaled in a hiss. This wasn’t good news. The more evidence Reynolds amassed pointing to the Logans, the less likely he’d be to look elsewhere. “Lenny, I’m sorry I have to ask this, but—”
“No.” He cut me off sharply. “Carl and Granddad say they had nothing to do with Ward’s death. I believe them. And Gerry Two is adamant that he was with Granddad the night of the murder until I showed up. That’s why Reynolds considers Granddad an accessory but not a murder suspect.”
I held his gaze. “I have to ask these questions, Lenny. I want to help you clear their names, but if they did it and I find more evidence to help convict them, I’ll give it to the police. I want to be clear on that point.”
“They didn’t do it.”
“Okay. What about your middle brother? Or your parents? Any chance they might have been involved?”
Lenny shook his head. “Jake lives in Galway during the week. You know that.”
“He could have caught the ferry over to the island before the storm blew in,” I pointed out.
“But he didn’t,” Lenny said with emphasis. “Believe me, the police already checked, and Jake has an alibi. He was at the university delivering a lecture on fossils at the time of the murder. There are hundreds of witnesses to back up his story.”
“Okay. Where were your parents on the night of the murder?”
“My parents were at a birthday party that evening. They arrived before Ward was killed, and left after we’d found the body.”
“What does Jennifer Pearce say about Carl and Gerry’s stories?”
Lenny shook his head. “She’s not happy. I get the impression she’ll be delighted to hand them off to her criminal defense solicitor friend once she arrives tomorrow.”
“To be fair, criminal law isn’t Jennifer’s area,” Mack said. “She’s only standing in until a specialist can get to the island.”
Lenny snorted. “In this case, it’s more the fact that she doesn’t believe Carl and Granddad’s stories. It’s obvious she’s going through the motions.”
“You’ve been watching too much TV, my friend,” I said dryly. “I dealt with plenty of lawyers during my years on the force, and a defendant doesn’t need an attorney that believes they’re innocent. They need an attorney capable of mounting a convincing defense. Jennifer might not be a criminal defense attorney, but she’s good at her job. She’ll take good care of them until her replacement arrives.”
“I want them to have a lawyer who’s on their side,” Lenny repeated stubbornly. “I want someone who believes they’re innocent. My cousin, Jack, says he knows a guy in Dublin who’s a whizz at criminal defense, but I’m wary of anyone who considers Jack a pal.”
I exchanged an amused glance with Mack. “Jack sold me my car.”
Mack winced. “Ouch. Is it still moving?”
“At the moment, yeah. Any problems, I’m paying Jack another visit.” I took a sip from my cocktail glass and regarded Lenny. His thin frame was rigid from tension, and his bony face had a pinched look I hadn’t seen before. I wanted to help him, and I wanted to believe his relatives were innocent, but I had to admit that Reynolds was building a strong case against them. “You said your family disliked Ward. Can you remember any fights they had with him?”
Lenny’s nod was a jerk of his head, and his pale skin grew ashen. “Granddad and Carl had a terrible row with Ward at the summer fair the week after he dumped Katie. Granddad said the man needed shooting, and Ward got up in his face about it, thus prompting Carl to throw a punch. The fight escalated, and
ended with Sergeant O’Shea dragging Carl off Ward and throwing them both in a cell for fighting.”
Yikes. A police record of the Logans fighting with Ward added an awkward slant to the situation. “A history of punch-ups doesn’t look good, but it isn’t proof that either your grandfather or Carl killed Ward.” I paused before posing my next question. “Lenny, have you heard from your sister?”
A pained expression flickered across his face. “Katie texted me to say the baby was born, but that was it. I’ve been trying to contact her to let her know about Ward’s death, but she’s not answering her phone, and it’s not the kind of news I want to deliver as a text message.”
An uncomfortable thought slid through my brain. Judging by Mack’s sudden preoccupation with his fingernails, the same thought had occurred to him. Could Katie have snuck back to the island to take revenge on her ex-lover? “If she’s just had a baby, she’s probably exhausted,” I said in a hopeful tone.
Lenny frowned. “Yeah, but I’m starting to get worried about her. If she doesn’t make contact within the next couple of days, I’m going to fly over to London to see her.”
I glanced at Mack, but he studiously avoided my gaze. I took a deep breath and addressed Lenny. “You don’t think—”
He held a hand up. “Don’t say it, Maggie. I don’t know how to answer you, and that bothers me.”
“Of all your family, Katie had the most reason to hate Ward.”
“Maggie has a point,” Mack said, finally looking up from his nails. “Ward abandoned her.”
“Do you think a woman who’s just given birth is sneaking around Whisper Island murdering people?” Lenny sounded as though he was trying to convince himself.
I threw him a lifeline. “Katie would have had problems dragging Ward’s body around and throwing it off the cliff.”
“Of course she didn’t do it. None of my family did it.” Lenny put his head in his hands. “I just want to wake up from this nightmare and go back to fixing computers and hunting aliens. That’s what I do best.”
I refrained from voicing my suspicion that Lenny and Mack’s UFO spotting trips owed their success to poteen and pot. In my presence, they’d only consumed poteen, but I was no fool. “Why don’t you guys go on an emergency UFO hunt? You need the distraction.”
“I guess.” Lenny sounded doubtful. “We were due to go on Thursday, but I had to cancel because of our trip to the mainland to fix the Movie Club’s projector.”
“I can do tomorrow or Wednesday,” Mack said.
“Sounds like an excellent plan.” I drained my cocktail glass and stretched. “I’m going to hit the shower and then head to bed. Juggling multiple jobs is exhausting. I don’t know how you two do it.”
“The paramedic stuff is on a volunteer basis.” Mack shrugged. “I enjoy it. Most of the time, we don’t have to do much. The night of the storm was an exception.”
“And I can fit my computer repair business around my day job,” Lenny added. “It’s not set shifts like you’re working at the hotel and the café.”
Not to mention the two mysteries I was investigating—one ridiculous and the other all too serious. Before I showered, I found spare bedclothes and helped Lenny and Mack to make the bed in the guest room. When we were done, Mack gave me one of his weird handshakes, and Lenny gave me a quick hug. “Thanks for letting us crash here, Maggie. I have a feeling that cocktail will help me sleep.”
“If not, I can give you a sleeper.” Mack patted his pocket.
Lenny reared back. “No way. The last time you gave me one of those, I woke up the next morning to discover I’d shaved my balls and uploaded the evidence to Snapchat.”
“What?” I cried at the same time Mack demanded, “You’re on Snapchat?”
“I didn’t even know I had an account until people started messaging me.” Lenny turned to me with an earnest expression. “The shaved-balls business wasn’t a good look.”
“I’m happy to take your word on that,” I said, deadpan. “No need to show me the evidence. Sleep well, guys. And stay off the sleepers.”
“You, too,” they said in unison.
I forced a smile. “And don’t worry, Lenny. It’ll all work out.”
I shut the guest room door behind me and hoped the doubt I felt at the veracity of my words hadn’t shown on my face.
12
When I got back to the cottage after taking Bran for his morning walk, Lenny and Mack were still asleep. I fed the cats and dog, and left the guys the spare key with a note asking them to lock up when they left. As a postscript, I added that I had a potential paid job offer for Lenny and that he should call Melanie at the hotel. I’d intended to ask him about looking at the surveillance footage last night, but I’d been distracted by the news of Gerry Logan’s arrest.
Still tired after a restless night, I jumped into my car and drove to the hotel to begin my morning shift. Today, I was in luck. Melanie agreed to let me work in the beauty center, thus giving me the perfect opportunity to ask Marcus and Sven about Eddie Ward. The men were busy all morning with guests from a bachelorette party, but they joined me for a coffee break at eleven.
“You took our advice and asked for a job.” Sven beamed at me. “This is good.”
“And you know about the ghost already.” Marcus added. “You won’t run away when he comes clanking his chains.”
I laughed. “No. I don’t intend to be scared off by a poltergeist, real or imagined.”
“These last few days, everyone has forgotten about the ghost,” Sven said, his expression growing serious.
“I heard there was another incident on Sunday night,” I said. “Didn’t that upset the staff?”
“Only briefly.” Sven’s jaw tensed. “We’re all upset about a different matter. Have you heard about our head chef being arrested for murder?”
Oh, yeah. “I was in the lobby when the police arrived.”
“It’s terrible,” the Swede said. “I can’t believe Carl would kill someone. He’s hot-tempered, yes, but he’s no murderer.”
“Everyone knows he hated Eddie,” Marcus added. “It’s not so very strange that the police suspect him.”
“Did you know Eddie Ward?” I asked in an innocent tone, even though I knew the answer.
Marcus shrugged. “Not well. I helped deliver post from time to time.”
“He sometimes came to Murphy’s Pub,” Sven said. “We’d sit and chat for a while, but the conversations were always very superficial.”
Marcus grinned. “Sven is not a football fan. He got bored when Eddie and I discussed our favorite teams.”
Sven puffed out his not-inconsiderable chest. “I prefer philosophy and politics. Eddie was not an educated man.”
“Snob,” Marcus said, but with a good-natured laugh.
In my experience, the best way to get people to open up during an investigation was to use honesty to camouflage one’s true purpose in asking specific questions. “I wasn’t the postman’s greatest fan,” I said frankly. “I thought he was a slimeball.”
“You weren’t the only person to have that opinion,” Sven said. “Eddie was popular with women, but he treated them badly. Always a new woman on his arm every week. That’s why he preferred the hotel bar to the island’s pubs. More turnover in the clientele.”
“I heard he got a girl pregnant,” I said, toying with the handle of my coffee cup.
The men exchanged glances. “We heard he got more than one woman pregnant,” Sven said. “He had a son living in Galway.”
“Really? Do the police know this?”
Marcus grabbed a banana from the staff’s fruit basket and unpeeled it. “I don’t know. Eddie said he wasn’t named on the birth certificate.”
I’d have to share this information with Liam Reynolds. If the postman had a vindictive ex living on the mainland, he needed to know. “Did he have any contact with the child?”
“Not that I know about.” Sven’s lips twisted into an ironic smile. “He said he’d se
en the boy once, just after he was born, and then the mother banned all contact. Typical Eddie.”
“Lemme guess…Ward didn’t pay child support?”
Marcus snorted. “Eddie had moved on to another woman before the baby was born.”
“Apart from the Logans and the ex with the kid, can you think of anyone else with a grudge against Ward?”
Marcus shook his head. “No. Like Sven said, Eddie wasn’t a guy to share his feelings. We didn’t talk about personal stuff.”
“When I found the mail van abandoned, it was pretty late for Eddie to still be on the island. I thought he returned the van to the mainland every night.” Actually, I hadn’t a clue what Ward did with the van, but I figured Marcus would know.
“No, no. That’s not how it worked,” Marcus said. “Eddie had a cottage on the island. Every evening, he emptied the letter boxes all over the island and collected packages from the post office. The next morning, he drove the van to the mainland and brought the post to the main post depot in Galway. They’d give him the mail to deliver to the island, and back he’d come.”
“Do you know where Eddie lived?”
“Near Carraig Harbour,” Sven supplied. “Convenient for the ferry.”
I scrunched up my forehead. There were very few houses in the vicinity of Carraig Harbour, and one of them was my cottage. “Was Ward’s place the one with the bright blue door and the gnomes in the garden?”
“Yes.” Marcus grinned. “I was very surprised to see he had garden gnomes. He was very proud of them and his garden.”
“He used to grow raspberries and give them to Carl to make jam,” Sven said. “In exchange for Carl’s signature chocolate cake, of course. Ward always had a sweet tooth.”
My stomach performed a flip and roll. “A sweet tooth? Wasn’t Ward diabetic?”
Sven and Marcus stared at me. “I don’t think so,” Sven said. “Did he mention it to you?”
Marcus considered for a moment, and then shook his head. “No, but Eddie said his girlfriend liked Carl’s cake. Maybe he got it for her.”
“Which girlfriend?” Sven laughed. “Eddie got around.”