Murder at an Irish Wedding

by Carlene O'Connor

  “Of course,” Siobhán said. “Of course.”

  She spoke with Brian about who had access to the champagne flutes. She remembered Chef Antoine’s words about wolf’s bane. The snap of his finger. “Massive heart attack. Like that.”

  * * *

  She found Annmarie in her shop. A suitcase was by the counter. Annmarie was shoving money from the cash register into her purse. She froze when Siobhán came in.

  “I thought I locked it.”

  “Going somewhere?” Siobhán asked.

  “Spain,” Annmarie cried out. “My mother was right. Kilbane isn’t safe anymore.”

  “So this has nothing to do with the fact that you were kissing Colm Cahill a few nights ago and now he’s been murdered?”

  “Kissing is a far cry from killing,” Annmarie said. She didn’t do it for the money, she insisted. She found him to be a very attractive man. “He wasn’t a killer,” she said as Siobhán was leaving. “He was with me Thursday morning. He snuck out to see me. There, that’s everything. Now go, will ye? I have a plane to catch.”

  Siobhán remained standing. “Where’s the USB card, Annmarie?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. Listen to me very carefully. You’re not a suspect. But you’re holding a very important piece of evidence. If you don’t come clean, the killer might slip away. Is that what you want?”

  Annmarie shook her head, tears filling her eyes. She turned and unlocked a safe behind the counter, reached in, and took out the USB card.

  “As soon as the picture was snapped, I realized I’d been a pawn in that sick woman’s game,” Annmarie said. “I saw my opportunity when the lads were fighting and the camera fell to the ground. Kevin tried to snatch it, but he was way too drunk.”

  “And you were going to use it to extort Colm Cahill.”

  “He’s a businessman, isn’t he?” Annmarie said. “It wasn’t extortion. I had something for sale that he wanted to buy.”

  “That’s why he came to you that morning, isn’t it?”

  Annmarie nodded. “I knew he wasn’t the killer. Because he was with me. We were negotiating the terms of the sale.”

  “If you sold him the photo, then why do you still have it?”

  Annmarie scoffed. “Rich people don’t carry money on them. He was having it wired. I was waiting for it.”

  “He bought you that red dress you wore to the wedding, didn’t he?”

  Tears spilled down Annmarie’s cheeks. “I don’t care what anybody else says. He was a generous man.”

  * * *

  Finally, the guards handed over all of Ronan’s photographs. Some of them were quite stunning. But Siobhán wasn’t interested in the artistry, nor did she need to look at all the photos. She was only interested in two occasions. Right before Kevin’s murder, and right before Colm’s murder. And it was as she thought. Circumstantial, of course, but not when you put it together with everything else. Last, she talked to all the townsfolk who had come to the wedding. Finally, she found the one she was looking for.

  “Yes,” Peter admitted. “I was late for the wedding. When I poked my head in, they were walking down the aisle, hand in hand, man and wife.”

  That was the last bit she needed. And if she played the game right, it would be enough to elicit a confession. None of it would matter without the confession. And she only had one chance to get it.

  If only Siobhán had had time to warn Colm that he had been the intended victim all along. And finally she organized a search. If she could find that bit of evidence, the guards would have a case, even without the confession. With the confession it would be the last nail in the coffin. The guards would dig by the abbey wall. Murderers, after all, were people first. And as the killer well knew, people were creatures of habit.

  Chapter 32

  They stood out in the back garden of the bistro, Siobhán and Macdara with the bride and groom. Siobhán had sent the young ones to Bridie’s. Trigger was darting in and out; every time Siobhán thought she had a handle on him, he would run away again, barking indignantly at her attempts to scoop him up.

  “It’s such a relief,” Alice said, “that everyone has gone home.”

  “I’m shocked,” Paul said. “A traveler, you say?”

  “Brenna was right all along,” Siobhán said. “There was a robber in Kilbane. I wish I would have believed her.”

  “Have they arrested him yet?” Alice asked.

  “Yes. He’ll not see the light of day again.” Siobhán didn’t dare look at Macdara. He hadn’t been on board for this, and he didn’t even know all the details. Siobhán knew he had to see it for himself or might not ever believe it. Not to mention it involved tricking one party to get the other to reveal him or herself. Siobhán wished there was another way.

  Alice was sitting on a bench, long legs crossed. Trigger jumped on her lap and began licking her hand. Paul was leaning against the back wall of the bistro. Macdara stood, hands folded, by the door. “But you know what’s funny?” Siobhán tried to keep her voice light, but it wobbled a bit.

  “What’s that?” Paul said.

  “The Huntsmans insisted they didn’t start that robbery rumor.”

  “That is odd,” Paul said. “And yet it turned out to be true.”

  “I know. I just don’t like it when things don’t fit. So I went back to Brenna to ask why she said it.”

  “She’s always been a liar,” Alice said.

  “And yet you chose her as your maid of honor.”

  “She was a childhood friend. I didn’t realize how much she had changed.”

  “I know what you mean,” Macdara said, with a glance at Paul.

  “It still doesn’t make sense,” Siobhán said. “Brenna was lying about something that turned out to be the truth?”

  “I suppose stranger things have happened,” Paul said.

  “I spoke with Carol Huntsman yesterday.”

  Paul looked at Siobhán, then Macdara, and finally he looked at Alice. “Whatever for?”

  Alice set her teacup down. “I have to use the jacks.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Siobhán said. Alice froze.

  “Do what?” Paul said. “Use the restroom?”

  “No,” Siobhán said. “Do a runner.”

  Paul stepped forward. “What is going on?”

  “I accused Macdara of having a blind spot,” Siobhán said, “when all this time it was me.”

  Paul looked at Macdara. “What’s she on about?”

  “But I’m seeing clearly now,” Siobhán said.

  Alice took a step forward “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “You,” Siobhán said. “I’m talking about you.”

  Alice clung to Paul. “She’s accusing me of murder,” she cried.

  Paul stuck his chest out. “I did it,” he said. “I’m the one.”

  “You did what?” Alice looked between the three of them.

  “A traveler didn’t kill Kevin or your father. I did.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m going to make a full confession.” He took Alice’s hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, darling. We’ll hire the best solicitor money can buy.”

  “Stop saying that. This isn’t funny.”

  “I didn’t mean to kill Kevin,” Paul stammered.

  “You didn’t kill Kevin,” Alice insisted.

  “I didn’t mean to. I thought he was your father.” Paul truly sounded as if he was guilty.

  “No. No.” Alice’s pretty head shook from side to side.

  “It was barely light out, and those tracksuits,” Paul stammered. “Your father is the one that was supposed to be up there.”

  “He snuck out to meet Annmarie instead,” Siobhán said. “It saved his life.” But not for long.

  Alice whirled on Siobhán and Macdara. “You had better not believe a word of this. We’re not at a gardai station. This is not a confession. Not one word.
”

  “It’s done,” Paul cried. “I’ve confessed.”

  “Did you know Ronan loved taking photographs of Alice?” Siobhán said to Paul.

  “Everyone loves taking photographs of Alice,” Paul said.

  “We were able to look through all of his photos,” Siobhán said.

  “So?” Alice said. “So?”

  “I’ve confessed,” Paul said. “Now take me to the gardai station.”

  Macdara clamped a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

  Siobhán continued. “Ronan never stopped taking pictures. And there were only three occasions when Alice wasn’t in them.” Siobhán held up a finger. “The night everyone went to the pubs. Everyone but Alice.”

  Alice stayed quiet. No doubt she was remembering how she had used that time. To find the perfect rock. To put it in the perfect spot.

  “How could he take her picture when she wasn’t there?” Paul said.

  “Do you want to hear the other two times there were absolutely no photos of Alice?”

  Paul flicked his eyes nervously to Alice. She stared straight ahead. “The morning of Kevin’s murder, and right before Colm’s murder.”

  “I don’t see—”

  “She wasn’t around to be photographed. Or he would have been photographing her.”

  “That’s circumstantial!” Alice cried.

  “Yes,” Siobhán said. “’Tis.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Alice said, whirling on Siobhán. “They said they arrested a traveler.”

  “I’ve confessed,” Paul said. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “We don’t accept your confession,” Macdara said.

  “What are you doing?” Alice cried.

  “I couldn’t let an innocent man go to jail for me,” Paul said. “I have to do this.”

  “No,” Alice said. “No.”

  “The guards are digging around the abbey wall as we speak,” Siobhán said. “They’re going to find Colm’s will.”

  Paul’s head snapped toward Siobhán. “His will?”

  “He had a new will faxed to the castle. One that cut Alice out completely if she married you.”

  “He was always threatening that,” Paul said.

  “But this was more than a threat. This was the actual will. Only someone took it before he could sign it.”

  “Circumstantial,” Alice said.

  “Do you want to know what should have been my first clue?” Siobhán said. Alice didn’t blink, move, or breathe. “You got sick before Chef Antoine came sprinting out with the news of Kevin’s murder.” That was the first clue. Siobhán had missed it because she’d been too upset over Brenna saying the brown bread had been poisoned and rumors that Alice might be pregnant. Colm strode onto the lawn, and Alice promptly got sick.

  “So?” Alice thrust her chin up.

  “You got sick because you thought you saw a ghost.”

  “A ghost?” Paul said.

  “Her father. He was leading the group across the lawn. She thought she’d just bashed him over the head with a rock.” Siobhán turned to Alice. “That was the moment you realized you killed the wrong man.”

  Alice clenched her fists. She was thinking of those darned tracksuits, no doubt. Poor Carol Huntsman had only tried to be nice. Alice had really laid into her after the murder, blaming her for the case of mistaken identity. She’d scared them so much they’d fled from the castle. No doubt Carol also realized that Alice had stolen the fax. And no doubt she knew the fax was Colm Cahill changing his will. No wonder they fled.

  Paul’s eyes narrowed. He jabbed his finger at Siobhán. “I want to talk to the detective sergeant. Tell him I want to make a full confession.”

  “And then there was the black soot on the note that Kevin thought was summoning him to the hill. Black soot that came from the gardens. There’s a photo of Alice kneeling by them.”

  “So?” Alice said. “Anyone could have done that.”

  “But they’ll be your fingerprints they find on the note, won’t they? Along with Kevin’s gold watch and chain. First, you buried everything along the wall. This is when the tracksuit actually helped you out. Chef Antoine saw you digging over there and from a distance assumed it was Val. He only saw the back of you hunched over. You buried Kevin’s things, and then you started the rumor about the robbery. Not the Huntsmans. Not Brenna. You. Then, when Chef Antoine told you he thought he saw Val digging near your burying spot, you had to go back and see for yourself. That’s what you were doing when Val came upon you. And then I arrived to find you wrestling with the poor lad, at which point you pretended he had been attacking you. But we know now that it was the other way around. Because it was you Chef Antoine saw digging, not Val.”

  “The Huntmans told us about the robberies!” Paul said. He was still trying to protect his bride.

  “That’s what Alice told you,” Siobhán said. “She couldn’t let the rumor be traced back to her.”

  “You won’t find any hard evidence. It’s all circumstantial!”

  “Oh, Alice. Don’t be confused by the circumstantial. Because strung together, the evidence is almost insurmountable.”

  “I won’t hear of it,” Paul said. “She didn’t do it.”

  Siobhán pressed on. “A guard will testify that he let Alice go to Limerick on wedding errands on Friday afternoon.”

  Paul stole a glance at Alice. “I thought you were napping.”

  “You wrote the message on Macdara’s car. Just like you wrote the message on the mirror. I’m sure the handwriting will match your signature on the magazine you signed for me. The guards are comparing and analyzing them right now.” That was a little white lie. O’Brien was probably using the magazine to prop up his wobbly table.

  “I hate you,” Alice cried. “You could have just let this go.”

  “You poisoned your father before the wedding. You brought the champagne flutes and bottle of bubbly, then told him you were calling off the wedding. That certainly called for a toast, didn’t it?”

  Tears came into Alice’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “He just wouldn’t stop,” she said.

  “You took Ciarán’s Big Book of Poisons and went on a little search. I don’t know which one you used. But I’m sure the toxicology report will tell us.”

  Alice began to blink rapidly.

  Paul turned to his bride. “Don’t say another word.” His complexion was taking on a sickly shade of green.

  He was still trying to protect her. He was still in denial. Siobhán found that kind of sweet and utterly heartbreaking.

  “Peter Hennessey admitted that he was the one who poked his head into the church when the nuptials were over. You saw the door open and pretended it was your father.”

  “That’s right,” Macdara said. “I forgot about that.”

  “No one could have mistaken the five-foot Peter for Colm Cahill. Especially not his lovely daughter. And your father was already lying dead in the Tomb of the White Knight.”

  A strangled sob escaped Alice.

  “No,” Paul said. “This can’t be.” He had been protecting her, even confessing because he vehemently believed in her innocence. The illusion was starting to crack.

  “We’ll pay you,” Alice said. “I’ll pay you. You can go to college. Get out of this bistro. This godforsaken village!”

  “Tell the truth,” Siobhán said. “That’s the only choice you have left.”

  “We’re all friends,” Alice said with a forced smile. “We can work this out. How would you like for your siblings to be taken care of for the rest of their lives? I heard you only rented this place. How would you like to own this bistro outright?”

  “You’re offering her a bribe in front of a guard,” Macdara said.

  Alice’s eyes flicked over Macdara. “I could send your mother money too. She’d like that, wouldn’t she?” Alice snapped. He clenched his jaw. Alice produced a flask from her handbag. “How about we all have a stiff drink?” She started to put the flask to he
r lips. Siobhán grabbed it. Alice cried out.

  Paul stared at the flask. “You think that’s poison, don’t you?” he asked Siobhán. His voice was low and dark.

  “Don’t listen to any of this,” Alice said.

  Paul grabbed the flask. He put it to his own lips. Alice shrieked and lunged for him. She knocked it out of his hands. It toppled to the ground, where the liquid snaked out along the patio.

  “Oh, God,” Paul said.

  Alice broke down and sobbed. “I tried to protect you,” she said. “I even locked you in your room so they wouldn’t suspect you.”

  “That was you?” Paul said.

  Tears spilled over Alice’s cheeks. “I didn’t want you to be a suspect. I stole a key from the front desk so I could lock you in. You could have opened it from your side with your key, but I took the chance that you’d be too hungover to figure that out.”

  Siobhán thought of something. She turned to Paul. “But you couldn’t have been locked in. Your father saw you out walking early that morning.”

  Paul hung his head. “I told you I was locked in. What I didn’t tell you was that I discovered it way before sunrise and Carol let me out. When Alice was upset that I missed the photo shoot, I simply used that as the excuse.”

  “Why were you up so early then?” Siobhán asked.

  “Does it really matter now?” Macdara said.

  Siobhán sighed. “I just hate loose ends.”

  Paul put his face in his hands. “I heard Kevin stumbling out. That’s what woke me. I was going to see what he was up to. By the time I got out of the room, he was nowhere to be seen. I was already out and about, so I went for a walk.”

  While they were talking, Alice had started to sneak away. Macdara caught her arm just as she was about to make a run for the back gate.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

  “I can’t go to jail.” Alice yanked out of Macdara’s grip with surprising strength. “You should have just let me die.”

  “Darling, why?” Grief oozed from Paul. In two strides he crossed the patio and held his bride. “Anyone would have wanted that man dead.” Paul looked at Macdara as if pleading with him. “Anyone.”