Murder at an Irish Wedding

by Carlene O'Connor

  “I do.” Alice’s voice was just as strong and steady. They turned to face the guests. Alice had tears streaming down her face. The audience rose and began to clap. They’d done it. They were married. Ronan was crouched in front of them, photographing every second.

  Alice’s gaze was on the back of the church. “Daddy!” she cried out. All heads turned. The door to the church swung shut. Someone had just been there. “He came,” Alice said, clutching Paul’s hand. “He saw.”

  “We’ll make it work,” Paul said. As the bride and groom hit the door, the guests scrambled after them, haphazardly throwing bird seed.

  * * *

  The bride and groom paraded through town with the guests, townsfolk, and a few guards in their wake. They made their way down Sarsfield Street, passed the colorful façades of homes, shops, and pubs, working their way toward the abbey. Before reaching the field, the townsfolk parted and waved good-bye. It was only a matter of common sense that Chef Antoine had not made enough to feed an entire village. It was sufficient for them to witness the ceremony and see the happy couple off.

  “Out with it,” Macdara said as Siobhán hurried toward the abbey, unable to shake the feeling that this had been a terrible mistake.

  “I’m convinced that Colm either tried to kill Paul, or Paul tried to kill Colm.” She hurried through the news, hoping it would make it easier to handle.

  “A dozen suspects, and you think you’ve narrowed it down to two?”

  “Two hard and two soft.”

  “Are we talking about suspects, or have ye moved on to eggs?”

  “Paul and Colm are my two hard. Susan and Val are my two soft.”

  “You’re just guessing. That’s not how this works.”

  “Susan was wearing the same red lipstick as the message on the mirror.”

  Macdara stopped. “What message on the mirror?”

  Shoot. She was starting to forget who knew what. She sighed. O’Brien was going to kill her. She brought her mobile out of her handbag and showed Macdara the photo she’d snapped of the mirror.

  “When did this happen?” Macdara was practically shouting.

  “Just before the nuptials. I told O’Brien. He made me swear not to tell anyone.”

  Macdara digested that. “Do you think the writing looks the same as the message on my car?”

  Siobhán nodded. They had both been written in red, although the message on the car looked more like paint, and the letters were larger. “We need to examine them side by side. Do you have the photo from the car?”

  Macdara took her hand. “I turned it over to the guards. We need to let them do their job.”

  “Nobody’s been stopping them, and look where that’s gotten us,” Siobhán said.

  Macdara sighed. “At least Alice and Paul had their wedding. Maybe the killer has no reason to strike again now.”

  “Colm, Paul, and you are the only three men besides Kevin who could have been the intended target.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re the right height, and you had on the tracksuit. But only one man had declared he was going to walk to the peak of the hill every morning.”

  “Colm.”

  “Yes, Colm. The man who is currently missing.”

  “He’s off pouting somewhere,” Macdara said. “Licking his wounds that he didn’t get his way for once.”

  “I hope so,” Siobhán said. But she had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.

  “Susan has the strongest motive.”

  “And she has the lipstick.”

  Just as they passed the Kilbane Inn, Margaret came hobbling out on her cane. “Did ye tell him?” she shouted. “Where are the guards? I don’t want that t’ing near me any longer.”

  Siobhán froze. Macdara almost ran into her. With all the distractions, she’d almost forgotten about the diamond ring. Macdara was staring at her, waiting for an explanation he wasn’t going to like. She gave it to him. She was right. He didn’t like it.

  “Let me have a look,” he said to Margaret. He threw a look over his shoulder at Siobhán. “It’s not Paul,” he said. “Paul could never murder a man.”

  Siobhán opened her mouth.

  “Not a word,” he said. “It’s not Paul.”

  “Okay,” Siobhán said. Blind spot.

  “I’ll meet you at the abbey,” Macdara said. Siobhán leaned forward to kiss him. He stepped away from it, then turned to follow Margaret back to the inn. Siobhán felt the sting of rejection, followed by a hot flash of shame. It wasn’t her fault. If his best friend was a killer, that was not Siobhán’s fault. Everybody had a blind spot. Paul was in Macdara’s blind spot.

  Chapter 30

  The transformation of the abbey into a wedding reception venue was stunning. Bridie had done an amazing job with little more than ribbons and flowers. Nature was the main decoration. The creek that ran through the abbey, the green fields, the remains of the stone monastery and bell tower, and even the Irish blue sky added to the ambience. It was on the cool side, but the rain had held off, and guests were mingling with glasses of champagne. A makeshift curtain made out of linen sheets was hung between the main area and the Tomb of the White Knight. They had fastened the sheet to the stone walls on either side with stones and tape. Beyond the curtain was where Pio’s band would set up and the cake would be cut. Siobhán wondered why on earth they’d want to add any more mystery to today, but after all her hard work, Bridie wanted the cake to be revealed in a dramatic fashion, and everyone was respecting her wishes and steering clear of the tomb for now.

  Tables were set up to serve the food buffet style, and Chef Antoine was bent over, extremely focused on presenting each dish just so. There would even be a carving station for delectable prime rib, turkey, and ham. Siobhán’s mouth watered just upon seeing the station set up, and she realized she hadn’t eaten much the past few days. It was so easy to eat while she was working in the bistro, but things had been so crazy she hadn’t had time. If one wanted to lose his or her appetite, investigating a murder seemed the way to go.

  Alice and Paul were having their photographs taken in the bell tower. Ronan was perched on top of a stone wall, aiming the camera down on them. Siobhán had to hand it to him: he seemed willing to assume whatever position was necessary to get the best picture. Susan was pacing in front of the buffet table. Brian was darting back and forth between stations. Brenna was standing with a glass of champagne in hand, flirting with Val. Faye and Nancy were holding cups of tea and huddling together as if trying to keep each other warm. Martin Donnelly was standing in the field near the creek, smoking a cigarette. Siobhán crossed through the open rooms of the abbey and made her way to the creek to join Martin.

  “What brand?”

  “Pardon?”

  “What brand are you smoking?” He reached into his pocket and brought out the packet as if he’d forgotten. Newtons. The same as the ones she’d found in the woods. Val hadn’t been lying. “Don’t bother giving me a lecture; that’s what me wife is for.”

  “Someone dropped a pack in the woods,” Siobhán said. “I saw them on my way to the crime scene.”

  “Are ye going to arrest me for littering?”

  “No. But I would like to know when you were in the woods and if you saw anything?”

  Martin sighed. “I was the first one up that morning. Since the accident, the doctor recommended daily walking to build my muscles back up. I guess I’ve taken a liking to it. Especially that time of day between day and night, when everyone else is asleep and it’s like you get the world to yourself.”

  “What time was this?”

  “It was half four.”

  “And where did you go first?”

  “Went into the woods. Planned to go to the top of the hill for a smoke, but my packet of fags was missing, so I turned back. Guess you solved that for me.”

  “And no one else was around?”

  “Just me and the birds.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then
I headed back down to the road. I’d read about Kilbane’s medieval walls, and I wanted to check them out for m’self.”

  “And did you see anyone?”

  Martin’s eyes darted left and right. “You’re not a guard.”

  He had seen someone. And he didn’t want to tell her. Up until now he had been very chatty. There was only one person she could think of who would make him clam up like this. She decided to take a gamble.

  “Paul told me he ran into you,” she said.

  Martin lifted his eyebrow, then laughed. “My son had a right to be up to a little mischief on one of his last days of freedom.”

  Paul had missed the morning walk with Alice. Said he overslept. Said he was locked in his room. So he’d lied. Lie upon lie. Siobhán had disliked Colm Cahill so much that she hadn’t given anything he said much thought. But what if Colm had been right about Paul? What if he knew something about his nature and that’s why he’d been so adamant about stopping the wedding? And if that was the case and he had something on Paul, then why hadn’t he just come out and said it?

  She had to find Colm Cahill. After all this, he hadn’t even shown up for his own daughter’s wedding. Alarm bells started ringing in Siobhán’s ears.

  “Did you and Paul stop for a chat?”

  Martin stiffened. “What did he tell you?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You said Paul told you we ran into each other,” Martin said. “I’m sure you got your answers from him.”

  “I can’t keep everyone’s stories straight.”

  “And why should you? Like I said. You’re not a guard.”

  “Right then. Well, congratulations.” She turned and started to walk away.

  “For what?”

  Siobhán turned back. “Your son just got married.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Right.” He sighed, blowing out smoke that drifted into the air and then disappeared.

  * * *

  As Siobhán was crossing back into the abbey, she almost bumped into Susan, who was hurrying out.

  “Have you seen your husband?”

  “He has some nerve!” She didn’t even try to disguise her anger.

  “You won’t have to put up with him much longer, will you?” Siobhán hadn’t meant to say it, but Susan was off-kilter. Throwing her even more off-kilter was the best way Siobhán could think of to get some results.

  “What do you mean?” Susan began to blink, rapidly.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word,” Siobhán said. “It’s a family matter.” A sense of shame washed over Siobhán. It was bad form to talk about Susan’s divorce in the middle of her daughter’s wedding.

  “I suppose you want money,” Susan said.

  “Of course not,” Siobhán said.

  “Why not? Everyone else does.”

  “I just want to know where your husband is.”

  “That makes two of us.” Susan started to head off again, and Siobhán crossed in front of her.

  “May I see your tube of red lipstick?”

  Susan looked horrified. She clutched her handbag. “No.”

  “Has it been out of your sight?”

  “What on earth is your problem?”

  “Why does your husband dislike Paul?”

  “Because nobody is good enough for his Alice.”

  “No other reason?”

  Susan’s eyebrow arched up even further. “Like what?”

  “Did he have certain information on Paul?”

  “Again. Like what?” Susan sounded sincerely curious. Maybe Siobhán shouldn’t have opened her gob.

  The ring had just been found in Paul’s room; perhaps he had married for money. Had he planned on selling it to help out his father? “I just need to find Colm,” Siobhán said.

  * * *

  Chef Antoine was standing by the carving station, wiping his brow. “Have you seen Mr. Cahill?”

  Chef Antoine looked peeved. “I see no one. I see prime rib, and turkey, and bacon.” She moved on. Brian was by the makeshift bar counting flute glasses. “Did you find Macdara’s champagne flute?” He almost jumped five feet in the air.

  “No. It’s still missing.”

  “Have you seen Colm Cahill?”

  “Not since just before the wedding.”

  Siobhán sighed. Looks like he was actually going to skip out on his own daughter’s wedding. There had to be a reason.

  * * *

  Siobhán was standing by the Tomb of the White Knight when a breeze blew through, sending the untethered bottom of the sheet swinging up like the wind lifting a woman’s skirt. It only stayed up for a second, but that was long enough for Siobhán to get a glimpse of a man’s shoes. Was someone behind the curtain? She looked around. Nobody else noticed it. Before Brian could scold her, she slipped in.

  The shoes were pointing straight into the air. They were attached to long legs, in a gray suit. Colm Cahill was lying on the ground. His eyes were closed as if he was just taking a nap. His mouth was slightly open. He was as rigid as the tomb. Next to his hand was a spilled glass of champagne. And lying in the puddle of the champagne was a dead bird. A frightful scream rang out, and it took several seconds before Siobhán realized it was her. She was screaming. She didn’t even realize she was moving, physically backing up, until she slammed into someone. She whirled around to find Brian and his piercing dark eyes staring at her. He only looked at her for a second before his eyes landed on the horror on the ground.

  “Is he?” Brian stammered.

  Siobhán wrung her hands. “I think so,” she said. “But I’m not sure.” But she was. She was sure. Colm was way too still. She’d been staring at him for any little sign that he was just unconscious, but every bone in her body knew. She ran over and placed her hand on his neck. It was cold to the touch. She gently pressed but couldn’t find a pulse. She tried his wrist. It was like cold rubber, and once again she couldn’t find a pulse. Should she try CPR? The thought brought her gaze to his lips. They were blue and foam trickled from the edges. It was too late. He was gone. She threw a desperate look over her shoulder and shook her head. Brian screamed, and this time everyone came running.

  Chef Antoine was the first to burst through. “Mais non!” He followed it with swearing and something that Siobhán assumed meant “Not again!”

  Susan Cahill was in next. “Oh my God. Is this a joke? Get up!” she screamed at the body. Siobhán had to hold her back. “Keep Alice away!”

  “Keep me away from what?” The bride and groom came running in. Alice pushed through the crowd. Soon the rest barreled in, and it was déjà vu, the first murder all over again, with shocked guests frozen in place.

  “Daddy!” Alice flew over to the body, knelt down.

  She probably shouldn’t be touching the body, but Siobhán wasn’t going to keep her from him. The crowd backed up and gave her some room.

  “Is that the bird that’s been dive-bombing me?” Brian whispered, pointing to the dead bird.

  Siobhán nodded. “I’d say that’s yer man.”

  “And yer missing flute,” Brenna said.

  “Who cares at a time like this?” Susan said.

  Paul lifted Alice off the ground. “What happened?” Alice cried, hands still reaching for her father’s lifeless body. “What happened?”

  “Poison,” Siobhán whispered. The clues were there. The spilled glass. The dead bird. The foam at the corners of the poor man’s mouth.

  “Poison?” Alice cried. She looked at the dead bird and then the glass. “Why was he even here, drinking champagne?”

  Why indeed.

  “Let’s all move out of the area,” Siobhán said. At her urging, everyone stepped out, backing up slowly. Alice began to weep.

  Siobhán turned to Brian. “Gather all open bottles of champagne.” He immediately nodded and flew over to the cart. He was the type who needed to have a task to keep calm. Siobhán was hurrying to where she’d stashed her mobile when Macdara strode in. He was smiling until he saw the
ashen faces of the group. His eyes quickly fell to Colm.

  “Oh, God, no.”

  “We just found him,” Siobhán said. “I was about to ring ye.”

  “Who did this? Who?” Alice yelled.

  “Susan was trying to divorce him,” Faye suddenly piped up, pointing at the mother of the bride. “But he told her the prenup was ironclad. That the only way she would get any of his money was over his dead body.”

  “What?” Alice whirled on her mother. “Divorce?” Shock was stamped on her face.

  “That has nothing to do with this,” Susan stammered. “We both wanted it.”

  “You both wanted to keep all of the money too,” Faye said.

  Susan whirled on Faye. “He was having an affair, so I would have inherited.”

  Alice stepped forward. “He was having an affair?” This was definitely not the wedding day she had imagined.

  Susan nodded. “You might as well know. Your father was unfaithful, and Paul has the proof.” After dropping the bombshell on her daughter, Susan shook her fist at Faye. “You’re going to be disbarred. That was lawyer–client confidentiality.”

  “What does she mean ‘You have the proof?’ ” Alice said to Paul.

  “I don’t have it. I swear.” Paul held his hands up.

  “She’s the one who done it.” Faye shuddered, crossed herself, and pointed at Susan. Rosary beads came out of her handbag, and she began to rub them. “She set him up. Her own husband.”

  Susan towered over Faye. “You were the one who blackmailed me into switching champagne suppliers so that Martin’s Transport could deliver it.”

  “What’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?” Faye said. Her frightened demeanor was gone. She stopped rubbing her rosary beads.

  “Obviously the champagne was poisoned,” Susan said. “Maybe that’s why you arranged for a new shipment in the first place.”

  Faye gasped. “What quarrel would I have with your husband?”

  “Maybe you have the photo,” Susan said. “Maybe you’ve had it all along.”

  “Why I never!” Faye said. “You’re the one who profits from his death.”

  “Only with the photo, you silly cow. And I don’t have it!”