Siobhán leaned forward. “You don’t mean?”
“Yep.”
“Susan Cahill,” Siobhán whispered.
Faye Donnelly’s client was Susan Cahill.
Chapter 22
Amongst the older generations, divorce was practically unheard of in Ireland. There were plenty of jokes about the secret to an Irish marriage, mostly involving bottomless pints and couples not speaking to one another for the rest of their miserable lives. Couples who grew apart often lived apart, but even then divorce was never an option. Marriage was a sacred contract that held up even when love fell down.
Macdara kept a brisk pace, heading for the gardai station with Paul. He’d tentatively agreed to give a statement to the guards. Siobhán held back, mulling over everything they’d just learned. If Susan was divorcing Colm, and Ronan had snapped the picture, that would allow her to inherit half of Colm’s vast fortune. Either way, trouble was very much at hand. Cahill versus Cahill. Not a pretty sight. What was Ronan playing at?
Another question remained. Who had the picture? Had one of them killed to get their hands on it? They were equally capable, and equally motivated.
Siobhán joined Macdara and Paul outside the station. Paul wanted to smoke another cigarette before he went in.
“It can’t be an accident that some local woman happened to hit on Colm in the pub,” Macdara said. “Right when there was a camera following Colm.”
Paul nodded. “Heck of an accident.”
“We need to track down this local woman,” Siobhán said. “Get a signed statement that Susan hired her to hit on Colm Cahill.” Maybe not as bad as an actual hit on her husband, but diabolical nonetheless.
“My mother is going to be furious with me,” Paul said. “Confidentiality means everything to a solicitor.”
“Can’t worry about that now. Lives are at stake,” Macdara said.
Paul’s eyes narrowed at he stared at the town square. “I realize.”
“Would you recognize this local woman if you saw her again?” Siobhán asked gently. Folks passed through the square with a nod or a wave, and she nodded and waved back.
Paul flicked his cigarette to the ground. “Hard to say. It was dim and crowded.”
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Macdara asked. “The guards will want to know.”
Anguish was stamped on Paul’s face. “Alice doesn’t know. Our wedding isn’t the ideal time to find out about her parents’ divorce. She’s going to be furious with me too. Everywhere I turn, a woman is going to be furious with me.”
Siobhán sighed. He was right, and she wasn’t going to console him with a lie, no matter how wretched he looked. The Irish skies were gray, the air slightly damp, and the recent rains had washed the air with a fresh earthy scent. Macdara regarded Paul. “Tell me the truth. Did you take the camera card?”
Siobhán held her breath.
Paul vehemently shook his head. “How could you even ask me that?”
“Desperate men take desperate measures.”
“I swear. I’ve nothing to do with it.”
“What’s your theory?”
“I believe Kevin swiped the camera card. And that’s why he was killed. It’s either Ronan, Susan, or Colm.”
Ronan, Susan, or Colm, Siobhán repeated silently. Or you.
“Wouldn’t your mother know if Susan was in possession of the photo?” Frustration rang from Macdara’s voice.
Paul shook his head. “Susan is a client. My mother only betrayed her confidence so far.”
Siobhán chewed on the possiblities. Whichever way it worked out, Kevin tried to play someone for a fool. Played them against each other, ready to cater to the highest bidder. A fatal mistake.
Macdara nodded to the blue station door. “Once you walk in and start talking, there’s no unringing this bell.”
Paul mopped his brow again and nodded. “Then what should I do?”
Macdara clamped his hand on Paul’s arm. “Besides the guards, don’t say a word to anyone.”
Paul grimaced. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Go to Sheila Mahoney’s salon and get yourself sorted,” Macdara said. “You look like hell.”
Paul turned to go inside, then grabbed Macdara’s arm. “Tell them.” He stopped and looked around. “If anything ever happens to me. Tell them. It’s Colm Cahill or Susan Cahill who done it.”
* * *
The minute Siobhán entered the bistro, hands full of wildflowers, Ciarán launched himself on her like a torpedo. She staggered back with his arms around her neck and scrawny but strong legs wrapped around her waist.
“Where have you been?”
“Cheeky lad.” She bent over, cueing him to jump off; instead he continued to clutch her.
“We have to do the list.”
“No.”
“Get off, you dolt.” Gráinne appeared, and in less than a second, she untangled Ciarán from Siobhán and planted him on the floor.
“T’ank you.” Siobhán laid the flowers on the counter.
Ann appeared and swept them up. “I’ll get a vase.”
“Thank you?” Siobhán wondered what was afoot. One sister being helpful was a pleasant shock; two was downright suspicious.
“There you are,” James said, popping his head out from the kitchen. “Let’s get on with this.”
“Get on with what?”
James held up a manila envelope. It looked awfully like the envelope with the alibis. Siobhán reached for it. James held it above his head.
“Where did ye get that?”
“It was slipped under our door.”
“Oh my God.” Why? Because whoever had stolen it had either deleted an alibi or changed one. Now they were all ruined. She should take them to O’Brien right away and tell him everything.
“We have to call the detective sergeant,” Siobhán said.
“Or,” James said, “we have a little peek first.”
“Peek,” Gráinne and Ann chorused.
“Peek,” Ciarán shouted.
“Eejits!” Eoin called from the kitchen.
Siobhán caught James’s eye. “There’s a bit more to the story.”
James narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”
He wouldn’t react any better to her encounter on the stairs than Macdara. And if he knew she’d been threatened with arrest if she continued investigating, she’d never get a look inside that envelope. And doctored or not, she so wanted to get a look inside that envelope. “Never mind. We peek, but not the young ones. Then we put everything back exactly the way we found it and then take it to O’Brien.”
“Agree.” Eoin was in the kitchen, Ann was busy with the vase of flowers, and Gráinne and Ann were in the back garden, playing with Trigger. James nodded for Siobhán to follow. They headed outside.
“They’re going to hate me,” Siobhán said as they hurried past the window.
“You’ll be promising them chips, and telly, and sweets as usual.”
Siobhán shrugged. There was no use denying it. It was better than them hating her. They entered Mike Granger’s fruit and veg shop at the end of the street. Mike had been a dear friend of their father’s and still looked after the O’Sullivans whenever he got the chance. He was at the counter and waved to them as they walked in. A balding man in his late forties, he was wearing his usual baseball cap and drinking a Diet Coke. “How ya?”
“Grand,” Siobhán said. “Just here for a few bits and bobs.”
He nodded and then turned his attention elsewhere. James grabbed a basket. “We’ll pretend that’s our shopping list,” he said, pointing to the envelope. They hurried down a back aisle, past the other shoppers. The area in front of the vegetables was clear. “Jaysus,” James said. “We forgot to steam it open.”
“Eoin is right,” Siobhán said. “We’re eejits.”
“We need a knife.”
“Or.” Siobhán ripped it open. O’Brien already knew the envelope had been snatched.
No use preserving the seal.
“Why did you do that?”
“It was left on our doorstep,” Siobhán said. “Who’s to say he or she didn’t rip it open.”
“Smart,” James said picking up a turnip and throwing it in the basket.
The first alibi Siobhán lifted out of the envelope belonged to Ronan. He wrote in all capital letters.
SMOKED CIGARETTES
TOOK PICTURES
MURDERED KEVIN
“He’s some cheek,” Siobhán said.
James studied the confession. “The first two items are true. What if the third is as well?”
“He’s definitely in the running,” Siobhán said. She was dying to tell him of her other Ronan discoveries, but she needed to keep as much as possible close to her chest. Rumors and suppositions were dangerous animals that had to be penned in.
James pulled out the next one. Brian’s. He had each day meticulously listed and every second accounted for. Siobhán went to the morning of the murder.
6:00 AM Awoke.
6-6:30 Shower and dress. Gray pinstriped suit with pink pocket square.
6:35 Tea and croissant in the kitchen with Chef Antoine.
6:40 Outside to begin erecting tents. Saw Martin
Donnelly down the street. Saw Val at the gate.
6:45 Witnessed argument between Carol Huntsman and Colm Cahill at the front desk.
Siobhán read the last line again. That was the argument about the missing fax.
“It’s almost too much information,” James said.
“Maybe that’s the point. Distract us.”
“Seems a stretch.”
“I agree. It’s also very neat and tidy. Just like him.”
“Too messy to kill someone with a rock to the back of the head?”
“Exactly. He seems like he’d go for a tidy method.”
“Is there a tidy way to murder someone?”
Siobhán thought about it. “Poison?”
“Not for the recipient.” James shuddered. Drink was a form of poison. Siobhán wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
She glanced at Brian’s notes again. “There’s a witness to everything he’s listed. Easy enough to check. I’d say if we can confirm everything here, then we can safely eliminate him as a suspect.”
“I’ll check on these alibis,” James said.
“You?”
“Can’t have you diving into this alone.”
She hesitated. If she demanded he stay out of it, he’d dive in even deeper. Besides, she couldn’t do it all alone, and if anyone could handle himself, it was James. “Be careful.”
He flashed a grin. “Who’s next?”
The next alibi was written by Brenna. She only included the day of the murder. Either she hadn’t been paying attention to Macdara’s instructions or she didn’t want anyone to know what she’d been up to before the day. Her handwriting was pretty but messy, kind of like herself:
“Visitor?” James raised an eyebrow.
“Kevin.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“Do the guards know?”
“Yep.”
“So we’ve learned nothing.”
“Throw something else in that basket, will ye? The turnip looks lonely.” They moved over, and James tossed in a few apples.
Siobhán slid Brenna’s alibi back in the envelope. “We should check these accounts with Val.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s a security guard at the castle.”
“Could he be a suspect too?”
“He’s a bit of a dark horse alright.”
“Why would he kill your man?”
“He’s got a temper. It could have been impulsive. He also seems protective of the Huntsmans.”
“A temper?” James said. He stepped forward protectively. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” The door to the shop burst open, startling them. Paul Donnelly stood just inside the doorway, breathing heavily. When he spotted Siobhán and James, he hurried over. Siobhán shoved the envelope behind her back. Not suspicious at all, like.
Despite the heavy breathing, Paul’s hair looked as if it had been recently cut, and he had shaved. A groom preparing for a wedding. But his expression was anything but joyful. “I can’t find Alice.”
“I should think not,” Siobhán said. “She and her mam have a huge to-do list.”
“Mrs. Cahill is the one who just rang me. She said Alice didn’t show up for a fitting.”
A bride not show up for a wedding dress fitting? That was alarming. Paul held up his mobile. “I’ve called everyone. No one has seen her. She’s not answering a single text or call. I never should have let her out of my sight.”
“When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“She rang me from the flower shop.”
“I was with her then,” Siobhán said.
“Was everything alright?”
“Besides arguing about lilies, everything was grand.” Brenna had never gotten around to telling Siobhán her secret. How she knew why Kevin had gone to the hilltop that morning. Something about a note. After Alice and her mother interrupted them, there had been no chance to follow up.
“I’m going to find Macdara and see if he’ll drive me around,” Paul said.
“I’ll look around the shops in town. She could be running wedding errands.”
Paul looked hopeful. “So no reason to alert the guards?”
“Let’s not panic yet,” Siobhán said. “If we don’t get anywhere with everyone searching, we’ll definitely call the guards.”
“I’ll follow up with our messages,” James said, taking the envelope of alibis from Siobhán. “Then I’ll say hello to O’Brien.”
“Thank you.” Siobhán should have been the one dropping off the alibis. But finding Alice was more important.
“It could just be cold feet,” Siobhán said to Paul as they exited the shop. “That’s normal.”
“Normal,” Paul said with a twinge of sadness. “I’d give anything for a little bit of normal.”
Chapter 23
The bell jangled as Siobhán stepped into Courtney’s Gift Shop. One of the tiniest shops in town, Courtney’s made up for the lack of square footage by being neat and cheerful. They sold accessories for women, many of them handmade by Bridie. Annmarie stood behind the counter, her hands fumbling in the cash drawer. Her head was tilted unnaturally to the side. When Siobhán drew closer, she could see Annmarie was actually on her mobile, cradling the phone without her hands. She rolled her eyes at Siobhán, slammed the register shut, and then used a free hand to pick up her mobile as she continued her phone conversation. “I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I won’t. Bye-bye. Bye, bye, bye, bye,” she sang and hung up with a sigh. “My mam is reeling from the news of another murder in Kilbane. She wants me to move to Spain with her.”
Siobhán could only imagine how painful the news was after losing Courtney.
“My sister loved this shop,” Annmarie said with a sigh. “If I were to abandon it, I’d feel like I was abandoning her.” She sighed. “At least this time the killer is from outside Kilbane.”
That hadn’t been determined at all, but Siobhán wasn’t going to fan the flames of fear. She also wanted to grill Annmarie to find out if she was the local who was seen kissing Colm, but finding the bride was the first priority. “Have you seen Alice Cahill recently?”
Annmarie gazed out the window. “I was hoping she’d be with you. I’ve been waiting here every day, and no one has so much as popped their head in. I heard you took them shopping in Charleville instead.”
“Not instead. We had to order flowers.”
“So they’ll be coming in here?”
“I hope so. First we have to find the bride.” Annmarie was browned off that they hadn’t visited; now was definitely not the time to get any information out of her. Siobhán was headed out when Annmarie called for
her to stop.
“There’s something else. I’m not sure if I should mention it.” Annmarie practically flew out from behind the counter.
“Go on.”
She played with the pearls around her neck. “Have you heard anything?”
“Anything?” Siobhán said. Maybe this was exactly the right time.
“I don’t know. What’s the gossip?”
Annmarie definitely looked guilty of something, Siobhán decided to play it cool. “Right now I’m just looking for the bride.”
Annmarie’s face scrunched with worry. “I saw something.” It came out as a hurried whisper.
Siobhán stepped forward. “Go on.”
“I mean, I could be wrong.”
“Please.” Was she going to confess to kissing Colm? Did Susan hire her?
“It’s one of the travelers. I saw him pass by me window. He was wearing a gold watch.”
Siobhán had to stop and recalculate. “That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
Annmarie frowned. “Don’t you think it could be important?”
Not as important as you being paid to set up a married man. “Right, right, of course.” There was no use getting Annmarie’s guard up. She would have to come back at it when she figured out the right approach. Siobhán replayed what Annmarie said. A traveler with a gold watch. That was unusual. First of all, it was rare to see the travelers in town. Secondly, Kevin had a gold chain and a gold watch. What were the chances that it was a coincidence? She would have to look into it as soon as she found the bride.
“Is there anything else you can tell me about the traveler?”
Annmarie frowned. “I think he was wearing a green cap.” Siobhán thanked her and hurried out.
* * *
Siobhán checked the Kilbane Inn next. Margaret was standing out on the footpath with her ear pressed up against one of the doors.
“What are you doing?”
Margaret screeched and jumped back. “Listen!” She grabbed Siobhán, stuck a glass in her hand, and shoved her up against the door. Siobhán hardly had a choice, so she used the glass to listen. Inside, she could hear Colm Cahill and Susan Cahill screaming at each other.
Murder at an Irish Wedding Page 19