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

by Zara Keane

  “King of the compliments,” I said dryly, but stood aside to let him in. “Genetics happened to my hair. My curls always look like this before I tame them with products and a blow-dryer.”

  He tugged a loose curl and stretched it to its full length. “Wow, it’s long.”

  Was it my imagination, or had his voice grown deeper? Our eyes met and the desire I read in this matched my own. I cleared my throat and stepped back, putting space between us. “I hope that bag contains one of Noreen’s scones.”

  “Four, actually.” Reynolds grinned and gave me a slow perusal that made my cheeks burn. “I thought you might have the munchies.”

  “You’re hilarious,” I drawled and tightened the belt of my bathrobe. “What I have is a splitting headache.”

  “Well,” he said as I led the way into the kitchen, “I’ve got news that’ll cheer you up.”

  I raised an eyebrow in disbelief and switched on the coffee machine. “Lisa made a full confession?”

  He laughed. “No such luck. Her partner in crime, Jack Logan, squealed loud and clear. He gave us enough dirt on Lisa to make building a case against her child’s play.”

  After I’d fixed Reynolds an espresso, I took the seat opposite him. “Come on. Don’t leave me in suspense.”

  His expression grew serious. “Before I get to the story, I owe you my thanks. If it weren’t for your help, I’d be out of a job and a home.”

  “You brought me scones.” I took a deliciously crumbly bite. “Give me the low-down on what the suspects said and we’re even.”

  He grinned. “Obviously, this is all off the record—”

  “I can keep my mouth shut. You, of all people, should know that.”

  “I do know that, Maggie, and I appreciate it. Okay, this is what we’ve pieced together so far. Lisa was the brains behind the diamond robbery.”

  “I guessed as much. So Jack Logan and Alex Scheffel worked for her?”

  “Yeah. They had a deal that if one of them was caught, the others would save part of the loot for them for when they got out of prison. Hoping to make good on this deal, Scheffel tracked down Jack and Lisa when he got out of prison. He showed up unannounced on Whisper Island three days before the murder.”

  “I bet Jack and Lisa weren’t thrilled to see him.”

  Reynolds grimaced. “That’s an understatement. After playing it safe for several years, they’d been carefully laundering the diamonds over the last eighteen months. They had no intention of sharing the proceeds with Scheffel, but they didn’t want him to go to the police with dirt that could put them behind bars.”

  I sifted through what I knew. “So Jack and Lisa formulated a plan to get rid of Scheffel. On the Wednesday before the murder, Lisa invented an excuse to make an appointment at the Whisper Island Medical Centre at a time she knew Mack made his weekly delivery of medicines. Somehow, she managed to steal a vial of sodium nitroprusside.”

  Reynolds nodded. “You’ve got it. And because they’re greedy, Lisa and Jack’s exit plan included another get-rich-quick scheme that involved robbing the hotel safe right before payday.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can you believe the Greers still pay most of the staff wages in cash? How crazy is that?”

  “Totally bonkers, but I don’t think they’ll be doing that again after I tell them what Lisa had planned.”

  “You haven’t mentioned Marcus,” I interjected. “Where does he come into the story?”

  “I was about to get to him,” Reynolds replied with a grin. “You’re impatient.”

  “Hey, I just want to get to the good stuff.”

  “As it turns out, Marcus isn’t involved with ‘the good stuff’, as you put it. At least not directly. He’s exactly who he says he is—an embezzler on the run using a false passport. He had nothing to do with the heist in Berlin, and he didn’t meet Jack and Lisa until he moved to Whisper Island.”

  I frowned. “Then how did he wind up stealing Carl Logan’s knife?”

  “Two words: ‘Lisa’ and ‘blackmail’.”

  “Ah ha,” I said. “Lisa found out about Marcus’s criminal past and used it to her advantage.”

  “Correct. Through Marcus, Lisa found out about Eddie Ward’s planned leave. She forced Marcus to get hold of the postman’s van and manipulate the records to show that Ward was supposed to work that night. Then she planned her and Jack’s exit from Whisper Island. When Marcus let slip that Zuzanna was the poltergeist, Lisa told him to make her schedule a haunting for the night of the murder.”

  “Okay. Back up a sec. I’m getting confused. What did Lisa and Jack plan for the night Scheffel died?”

  Reynolds laughed. “Not what happened, that’s for sure. A wealthy guest was supposed to be staying at the hotel. Lisa believed the woman would keep her jewels in the hotel safe. In addition to the jewels, she knew Paul Greer had put a large quantity of cash in the safe, and she planned to take the lot.” Reynolds smiled. “Or rather, she planned for her two goons to do it for her.”

  I mulled this over for a moment. “So we have Jack and Scheffel robbing the hotel safe and using the post van as a getaway vehicle. Where’s Lisa when all this is happening?”

  “Waiting for them near Carraig Harbour. She wasn’t working that night. They intended for Scheffel to drive the van on and off the ferry while Lisa and Jack hid in the back. From a distance, Scheffel could pass as Eddie Ward, and the ferry staff weren’t likely to look too closely late at night.”

  A thought occurred to me. “Ask Lisa if she hung out in one of our neighboring cottages while she was waiting for her cohorts to collect her. When I got home after finding the body, the doors of Number Four were open. In all the chaos after, I forgot all about it.”

  Reynolds pulled out a notebook and scribbled a few words. “Thanks. I’ll check that out.”

  “So what happened next?” I demanded, leaning forward and clasping my mug between my palms.

  “As you know, the hotel safe robbery didn’t happen. When Zuzanna staged her haunting, several staff members ran into the Greers’ office to get away from the clanking and the wailing. Jack and Alex couldn’t get anywhere near the safe, and had to make a getaway through the staff exit. They bumped into Marcus in the hallway and forced him out the exit and into the van. I don’t know if they intended to kill him or scare him, but Marcus assumes the former.”

  “What happened to the knife Marcus stole from the kitchen?”

  “According to Marcus, he produced the knife once he was in the van and tried to escape. Somehow, Jack wrestled the knife off him, but Marcus managed to open the back of the van and jump out. He fled and the others, presumably deciding they had no time to waste going after him, kept going to the point they’d arranged to meet Lisa.”

  “And somewhere near there, Scheffel died,” I finished. “But why then?”

  “I’m no doctor,” Reynolds said, “but my guess is his diabetes played a role. Lisa had no intention of letting Scheffel live. She wanted to get rid of him as soon as they reached the mainland. Knowing he liked to drink, she poisoned a bottle of Gerry Logan’s poteen with sodium nitroprusside. She intended for Scheffel to drink it slowly, as one usually does with strong spirits, and not die immediately. Unfortunately for Lisa and Jack, a couple of key items on their getaway plan fell apart. One factor was the storm blowing in earlier than expected and the ferry being canceled as a result. This meant that they had no way off the island.”

  “Unless they took a boat and sailed,” I suggested. “They could have tried to escape that way.”

  Reynolds shook his head. “Jack was a good sailor. He knew the attempt would be suicidal.”

  “So Jack and Scheffel had to drive around the island trying to figure out what to do?”

  “Given the timing, they must have done a loop around the island at least once. That still shouldn’t have been enough time for the poison to kill Scheffel, but Jack said Scheffel was getting through the bottle of poteen faster than he’d anticipated, plus diabetics
process medication differently. Whatever happened, Scheffel died at the wheel, and Jack panicked.”

  “And being the rat that he is, he decided that if he couldn’t get rid of the body easily, he’d cover his behind by setting up his cousin and grandfather as suspects. He had Carl’s knife, and Gerry’s poteen. Arranging the rest would have been easy.”

  “He even had his grandfather’s ax with him,” Reynolds said. “He’d taken it from the shed earlier that day in case he needed it for the robbery.”

  “Ugh.” I put my mug down with a clatter. “If Jack wasn’t behind bars, I’d go to the station and punch him.”

  “You’d have to get in line behind Lisa and the entire Logan clan,” Reynolds said dryly. “Lisa was livid when she discovered Jack had been stupid enough to stab the body. He didn’t have the smarts to know a pathologist would guess the wound had been inflicted after death. It was Lisa who insisted Jack plant the empty vial of sodium nitroprusside in Gerry Logan’s bathroom.”

  My fingers curled into fists. “Add her to the list of people I’d like to punch.”

  “Remind me never to get into your bad books. You have a temper.” Reynolds reached out and tugged at one of my stray curls, and his fingers brushed against my cheek, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “What do you say, Miss Doyle? Want to go out for dinner with me sometime? We only have a couple of months left before you leave the island.”

  “About that…” I lowered my voice to a sultry whisper. “I might be staying longer.”

  A slow smile spread across his face, revealing his dimples. “That’s great news.”

  “And there’s more. We’re going to be in the same line of work.” I paused for dramatic effect, relishing his puzzled expression. “I’ve decided to set up business as a private investigator.”

  As Liam Reynolds’s face transformed into a worthy imitation of a Scream mask, my laughter floated through the cottage. I had a feeling the next few months on Whisper Island were going to be fun.

  • Thanks for reading The Postman Always Dies Twice. I hope you enjoyed Maggie’s second adventure on Whisper Island! Maggie and her friends will be back in June 2017 for more murder and mayhem in How to Murder a Millionaire.

  • In the meantime, I’m publishing a mailing list exclusive serial called To Hatch a Thief, featuring an adventure that occurs between Dial P For Poison and The Postman Always Dies Twice. Look for the first episode in April.

  Happy Reading!

  Zara xx

  Join my mailing list and get news, giveaways, and an exclusive FREE Movie Club Mystery serial! Join Maggie and her friends as they solve the mystery in To Hatch a Thief. The first episode will be sent in April 2017.

  http://zarakeane.com/newsletter2

  Would you like to try Maggie’s Brandy Alexanders that she made in The Postman Always Dies Twice? Here’s the recipe—poison not included!

  BRANDY ALEXANDER COCKTAIL

  1 oz (30ml) brandy (often a good quality cognac)

  1 oz (30ml) dark crème de cacao

  1 oz (30ml) cream

  1 square melted dark chocolate (55% cocoa solids recommended)

  Ground nutmeg to garnish

  Melt the chocolate.

  Pour all the ingredients into a cocktail shaker.

  Add ice and shake vigorously.

  Strain the ice out of the cocktail.

  Dry shake the cocktail vigorously (i.e.: shake a second time, but without ice).

  Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with a light dusting of ground nutmeg.

  Maggie’s tip: If you’d like sweeter taste, use white crème de cacao instead of dark, and substitute the square of melted dark chocolate with white.

  Zara’s brand new cozy mystery series continues in an exclusive serial available to her mailing list subscribers. Read To Hatch a Thief today!

  When a valuable diamond necklace is stolen, former American cop and classic movie buff, Maggie Doyle's, peaceful vacation on a remote Irish island comes to an abrupt end.

  An island lawyer hires Maggie to find the necklace before its owner realizes it's missing. With a ticking clock and ten fractious hens to look after, Maggie and her UFO-enthusiast friend go in search of the thief before they strike again.

  EXCERPT FROM TO HATCH A THIEF

  Whisper Island, Ireland

  Five weeks ago, I’d given my cheating ex and crumbling career in the San Francisco PD the proverbial middle finger, and moved to the wild west…of Ireland. In that time, I’d learned to bake scones without burning them (okay, I still scrape off scorch marks), rescued a kitten trapped in a drainpipe (well, I’d helped), and solved a murder (that one really was me). All things considered, my time on Whisper Island hadn’t been the restful vacation my Aunt Noreen had promised, but I’d had a blast.

  On the Tuesday after I’d caught a killer, I schlepped a tray laden with blueberry muffins from the kitchen of the Movie Theater Café. I dumped it on the counter and wiped the back of my hand over my still feverish brow. “Man, that’s heavy. Are you planning to force feed your customers, Noreen?” I waved an arm around the half-empty café. “We’ll never sell all of these muffins before closing time.”

  My aunt regarded me over the rim of her spectacles. “They’re for the school bake sale, love. I told you about it yesterday evening, but you had your nose stuck in one of Mammy’s old magazines.”

  I brightened at the mention of my late grandmother’s collection of vintage movie magazines. “They were awesome. It was like stepping back in time to the days of Old Hollywood.”

  “Mammy’s magazine collection is huge,” Noreen said while adding milk froth to a cappuccino. “Philomena is storing them at her house. Ask her to let you borrow more.”

  “I will. My only hesitation is in handling the oldest issues. They must be worth a chunk of change.”

  “John thinks we should sell them on eBay.” Noreen snorted, emphasizing her disdain for her brother-in-law’s outrageous suggestion. “Typical man. If we’d discovered a stack of old car magazines, he’d be all over them.”

  “Very true. Where did Granny find all of her movie magazines? A few in her collection are American. Modern Screen, for example. Were they sold outside the U.S.?”

  “I’m not sure,” my aunt mused, “but I know Mammy got her copies from a friend who emigrated to Boston. They both loved the cinema, and they used to send each other magazines as a way to keep in touch over the years.”

  “How sweet. It was almost worth getting the flu to have a chance to read Granny’s magazine collection.” As if on cue, I sneezed, and rooted in my apron pocket for a tissue.

  My aunt shook her head and gave me a reproving look. “I told you to stay in bed today.”

  “I’m feeling much better,” I said in a voice that would have been ideal had I had a penchant for making pervy phone calls. “Honestly. And I’m covering my hands with disinfectant every five seconds.”

  My aunt clucked in disapproval. “After your adventure chasing a killer, I’m not surprised you got sick. You’ve been running yourself ragged since you arrived on Whisper Island. Take this as a sign that you need to slow down and take a break.”

  I gave a wry smile. “Taking a break isn’t one of my strengths. I like to be busy.”

  “Being busy is all very well, but I don’t want you infecting my customers.” With this statement, Noreen put the cappuccino on a tray next to an espresso and two berry scones, and bustled over to Bette Davis, one of the movie star-themed tables that were in keeping with the theme of a café housed in a renovated movie theater.

  My phone vibrated with an incoming message. I slipped it out of my pocked and glanced at the display. I stared at the words on the screen and drew my brows together.

  Maggie, Would you please come by my office today? Or tell me a time and place we could meet? I’d appreciate your advice on a delicate matter, and I need you to be discreet. Regards, Jennifer Pearce

  Why on earth did Jennifer Pearce, of all people, need my help? I�
�d met the uptight lawyer during the murder case, but we weren’t exactly besties. She was the last person I’d have expected to reach out to me in a crisis. On the other hand, I owed her a favor, and I always paid my debts. While my aunt served coffees and took more customer orders, I typed a quick reply.

  Hey, Jennifer. Sure. I’ll swing by your place during my break. Say two-thirty? See you then. Maggie.

  After I’d hit ‘Send’, I poured myself a glass of water and attempted to swallow two painkillers without my aunt seeing me. From across the room, Noreen’s eagle eye caught me in the act. “Go home, Maggie,” she barked. “Sister Pauline agrees with me. Don’t you, sister?”

  This remark was addressed to my aunt’s good friend, and my cohort in a recent boat chase, Sister Pauline McLoughlin. In addition to her work at the church, the nun taught part-time at the Whisper Island elementary school. I’d gotten to know her during my short time on the island and considered her a friend. This was borne out by her next words.

  “Stop bossing Maggie around, Noreen. She’s old enough to know what’s best for her.” The nun fixed me with a steely gaze. “Which is why she’s going to be sensible and go to bed.”

  Gee, thanks, pal. I pulled a face. “Oh, all right. You’ve nagged me into submission.”

  If I were honest, coming to work today had been a lousy idea. Although my fever was gone, my headache and sore throat were not. But it was either drag myself to the café or stay in a bed shared with Roly, Poly, and their feline offspring. Until my new place was habitable, I was sharing Noreen’s cramped cottage with her eight cats (not counting the kittens), a wild puppy, and a menagerie of animals from her outdoor petting zoo. I loved my aunt dearly, but I was itching for my own space.