by Ali McNamara
‘I never said that. You just assumed.’
‘I did that.’ Finn looks at me with an odd expression.
‘Look, I’d better be going,’ I say, moving towards Finn and the door. ‘I’m glad we helped get him home OK.’
‘Stay,’ Finn says, more as a question than an instruction.
I pause by his side and look up into his eyes.
‘I was about to make tea?’ he offers as an incentive. ‘If you’d like some, that is?’
We sit in Finn’s lounge. Me at one end of the sofa, Finn at the other, both nursing mugs of tea, and Fergus curled up in the warm sun that streams through the gap in the curtains of the now re-opened patio doors.
‘So, how’s the search for the mystery owner coming along?’ Finn asks, taking a sip from his mug. ‘Are you any further to unravelling him yet?’
‘Or her,’ I add.
‘I stand corrected; the owner could indeed be a woman. Actually, that would make a lot of sense.’
‘Why would it?’ I ask, then I realise where Finn is likely heading with this.
Finn looks uncomfortable and takes a large gulp of his tea this time, confirming my suspicions.
‘Come on, spit it out,’ I insist. ‘You were going to say that it might be a woman because the person who looks after the house obviously cleans it and changes bed sheets and the like, weren’t you?’
‘No,’ Finn shakes his head. ‘I wasn’t.’
‘OK, what were you going to say then?’ I demand.
‘I was going to say it might be a woman because . . . ’ He plays for time by placing his tea carefully down on a coaster next to him. ‘Ah, all right I give in,’ he concedes. ‘I was going to say that. But that doesn’t make me a chauvinist, before you start.’
‘I’m not starting. You’re right, that place is obviously kept spotless, and in my experience that does point towards a female caretaker. A man would never take such pride in a house as this person obviously takes in The Welcome House.’
‘Ahem.’ Finn gestures around his lounge. ‘Are you saying this is slovenly?’
‘No, not at all – there are always exceptions to every rule. I’m just talking about past experience, that’s all.’
‘Lived with a lot of men, have you?’ Finn asks, that twinkle in his eye again.
‘That is none of your business,’ I say in an overly haughty voice. ‘I was referring to my experience of homes that have a single male owner.’
‘Ah yes, I forgot you were the consummate property seeker . . . ’
I can’t help but smile. Finn has this lovely relaxed attitude to everything that makes it impossible to get annoyed with either him or yourself.
‘Anyway, Eddie said the person he saw was, quote: “a fairly bulky fella”. That doesn’t usually suggest a woman.’
‘Could be a very unfortunate one?’
‘Finn . . . ’
‘OK, I’ll stop!’ He holds up his hands. ‘So, if you’ve not got any further with this mystery, we’ll have to talk about something else.’ He pretends to think. ‘How about your extensive list of male housemates?’
I raise my eyebrows at him.
‘No? Hmm . . . ’
‘How about we talk about you?’ I suggest. ‘You still owe me an explanation from the other evening.’
Even though I know he knows exactly what I’m talking about, Finn feigns innocence. ‘An explanation . . . About what?’
‘You know what I’m talking about. Besides, you can’t hide now that I know things about you.’
‘Things? What things?’
I glance across at the photographs. ‘Things like, you have a large family. You love horses as much as you love dogs. You’re not only from Dublin, judging by your accent and the fact you told me your parents kept horses near there when you were young, but you obviously still love and likely miss the place, seeing as how there’s so much Dublin memorabilia around this house.’ I pause, waiting for his reaction.
‘Anything else?’ Finn says.
‘Erm . . . ’ I look at the photos again. ‘Yes, you probably hated wearing that suit for the wedding as much as you hate wearing one for work.’
‘Impressive,’ he concedes eventually. ‘Right on all counts.’
‘So then?’ I ask. ‘What else is there? You’re definitely hiding something else.’
‘I’m hardly hiding all the things you just pointed out. If I was, do you think I’d have them dotted about my house?’
‘Probably not.’
‘There you go then.’
‘There I go what?’
‘They’re not secrets, are they? I told you I wasn’t hiding anything.’ Finn calmly picks up his tea, which must be getting a bit cold by now, but he doesn’t flinch as he takes a sip.
Aargh! He was doing it again – his well-practised avoidance technique. I thought I was good, but he’s in another league.
‘Today a special day, is it?’ I ask, suddenly remembering the phone call.
‘Not particularly, why?’
‘Your mum seemed concerned about you on the phone.’
Finn’s relaxed face tightens, just a tiny bit.
‘Mums are like that, aren’t they?’ he answers casually.
‘It’s not your birthday, is it?’ I ask, horrified it might be and I hadn’t known. Although why I should know when a virtual stranger’s special day was . . .
‘No! Of course it isn’t.’
‘Your mum’s then?’
He shakes his head.
‘The anniversary of something?’
Finn turns to me. ‘Sounds like that suppressed detective in you is rising to the surface again.’ He tries to sound breezy, but there’s a definite tension to his reply.
‘It is an anniversary, isn’t it?’
‘Look, Ren, much as I’d like to stay and play Columbo with you all afternoon, I have to get back to the hotel.’
‘Getting a bit close, am I?’ I ask in the same light-hearted way Finn usually maintains during our conversations.
‘No, I really do have to go. Dermot is popping over later from the island. His daughter is going to be working here for the summer – apparently, she doesn’t want to work over on Tara this year. Stroppy teenager, if you ask me. However, I have to go along with what my boss wants, and if he wants his daughter to work at The Stag, then who am I to question him?’ He stands up. ‘So you will have to excuse me.’
I can take a hint. ‘Sure, I understand. I’ll go.’ I stand up too. ‘Thank you for the tea, I’ve enjoyed our chat. I’ll see myself out.’ I head towards the door in what I feel is a slightly awkward silence. Have I pushed Finn a bit too far? I didn’t think I had . . .
‘I’ll maybe see you later, Ren,’ I hear Finn call from the lounge as I’m about to open the front door. ‘If you’re around, that is?’
‘Maybe,’ I call as I let myself out, a relieved smile breaking out on my face.
And I continue to smile as I walk all the way back to the hotel and up to my room, forgetting all about the fact I’m supposed to be meeting Kiki in the bar, and by now she’s likely to be high as a kite on caffeine, having waited for me to return from Finn’s cottage.
Nineteen
‘Where have you been?’ a hyper-looking Kiki asks, as I make my way into the bar and find her sitting at a table with an empty cup and saucer in front of her.
‘At Finn’s,’ I reply, sliding along the sofa next to her.
‘All this time?’ she exclaims in a voice loud enough for an elderly couple enjoying a pot of tea and some scones to look over in our direction.
‘Shush,’ I hush. ‘No need to shout at me.’
‘Sorry, I’m feeling a bit manic after all the coffee I’ve had while I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘How much have you had?’
Kiki thinks, tapping her foot up and down while she does. ‘Hmm . . . I started with a latte, thinking it would last long enough for you to get over to Finn’s and back. Then when you didn’t arrive,
I felt bad just sitting here – Danny over there kept looking at me.’
I look over to the bar, the barman nods his head in our direction, so I smile.
‘So then I ordered two cappuccinos, thinking you would have the other one, but when you didn’t return I drank them as well.’
‘Kiki!’
‘Oh, it doesn’t end there! I wasn’t going to have any more, but that elderly couple ordered tea and they brought them two coffees by mistake, so they asked if I’d like them. I hadn’t the heart to say no. So I had an espresso and I think it was an Americano?’ She looks at the cup. ‘I don’t know, it was after that I started to feel a bit shaky.’
‘I’m not surprised! I like my caffeine fix, but that’s ridiculous.’
‘So where have you been?’ Kiki’s knees bounce up and down as she taps her heels on the floor. ‘You still haven’t told me?’
I tell her all about what happened at Finn’s cottage.
‘That’s it?’ she asks when I’ve finished. ‘I’ve digested a whole Costa Coffee store for it to end like that?’
‘What did you expect?’
‘A kiss.’
‘What? Why would that happen?’
‘Come on, Ren. You like Finn, I know you do.’
‘Shush,’ I whisper looking around in case any hotel staff are in earshot. ‘Everyone doesn’t need to know.’
‘Ha!’ she exclaims triumphantly. ‘So you do! I knew it.’
I look around the bar again, playing for time. How can I backtrack now?
‘Who’s that?’ I ask, my eyes resting on a large woman who has just appeared behind the bar. Instead of the usual Stag uniform of a white shirt, black trousers and waistcoat, she’s wearing what look like white chef’s overalls, with a navy-and-white striped apron tied under her rather large bust. She towers over poor Danny, who looks petrified as he tries to answer her questions.
‘Oh, that’s Sarah,’ Kiki says. ‘She’s one of the cooks here. Eddie and I saw her down the pub one night. Eddie says she can drink any man under the table, and her record in one night is nine pints of Guinness.’
‘Nine?’ I look back at Sarah. She’s very tall for a woman; in fact, as she turns away from us, her interrogation of Danny complete, she could almost be a man as I watch her back view disappear through the staff entrance to the bar.
‘Yeah, that’s what Eddie says. She’s been here for years – used to be the housekeeper, apparently, until they needed a cook, and then she took on that role. She’s pretty good, but fierce too; Eddie is scared to death of her. Anyway, Ren, stop trying to change the subject – now what about Finn?’
‘Hmm?’ I ask, having genuinely forgotten about Kiki’s cross-examination of me.
‘Finn. You know the one: tall, brooding, totally gorgeous in every way?’
But I was still thinking about Sarah. I’d assumed after Eddie had given us a description of the person he saw going into The Welcome House that it must be a man we were looking for, but what if it wasn’t? What if the person was a woman – a very tall, very broad woman, a woman much like Sarah? Finn had suggested it was more likely to be a woman caretaker, and although I hadn’t liked his sexist suggestion, I had to admit he was right.
‘Yes, I know Finn,’ I reply distractedly. ‘Kiki?’ I ask, turning to her as a flash of inspiration sparks in my mind. ‘Have you ever gone on a stake-out?’
Kiki’s eyes light up. ‘You mean like they do in cop shows? With doughnuts and coffee?’
‘Perhaps not the coffee for you – I think you’ve had enough of that for one day. But we could maybe manage some doughnuts . . . ’
Later that evening, Kiki and I head out towards our car through the hotel’s reception.
‘Off out, ladies?’ Donal calls from behind the reception desk.
‘Yes,’ I reply quickly. I’d hoped we might be able to sneak out without anyone noticing us. We’re hardly dressed for a night on the town. I’m in jeans, a hoody and my trainers, and Kiki, for reasons known only to her, is wearing a tartan onesie with a pair of tan UGG boots.
Donal doesn’t seem to see anything odd about our appearance. ‘Lovely evening for a stroll,’ he says, looking at my trainers. Then he sees Kiki, ‘and a . . . a . . . ’ he stutters, for once at a loss for something to say.
‘Warmth,’ Kiki says, pulling her zip a little higher. ‘I’m wearing it to keep me warm.’
‘We’re going to star-gaze,’ I improvise. ‘Northumberland, where I come from in England, has what are called Dark Skies where you can see thousands and thousands of stars in night skies unpolluted by light. I was hoping we might see something similar here.’
‘Yes, you can,’ Donal says, to my surprise and relief. ‘Kerry is an international Dark-Sky Reserve. It’s forecast a clear night tonight, so you should be in luck. Do you know where you’re going to view the skies?’
I knew as soon as I mentioned star-gazing he would ask me that. ‘I have a few ideas, but I’m sure you will know much better than me, Donal.’
Donal reaches under the desk, and with a flourish produces a map which he proceeds to lay out in front of us, and spends the next few minutes instructing us on all the places we might try.
‘Good evening,’ I hear a familiar but strangely formal voice say, while our backs are turned and our heads are buried in the map.
I turn to see Finn approaching; he’s with a tall, broad man I don’t recognise, and a teenage girl.
‘Hello,’ I reply politely, smiling at him.
‘Off out tonight, ladies?’ Finn enquires in the same formal voice, and I realise that the man with him must be the owner of the hotel, Dermot, and the girl most likely Dermot’s daughter.
‘The ladies are going star-gazing,’ Donal informs them from behind the desk. ‘I’m advising them on where they might see the best constellations.’
‘Star-gazing?’ Finn’s lips twitch, but he manages to keep up his managerial façade. ‘I didn’t know you were into astronomy, Miss Parker?’
‘We’re not really, we’d just like to view the dark skies, that’s all. It’s supposed to be quite magical.’
‘It is indeed – magical,’ Finn repeats, holding my gaze for a moment. ‘I hope you get to see them, it’s something you won’t forget in a hurry if you do.’ He smiles at me, then swiftly returns to manager mode. ‘Now, may I introduce the owner of the hotel to you? This is Dermot O’Connell, and his daughter, Megan, who is coming to work here part-time.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ a deep, slightly gruff English voice says. He shakes my hand and then Kiki’s. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your stay at The Stag?’
‘Yes, we’re having the best time!’ Kiki replies before I can speak. ‘I must say though, Dermot, you don’t look much like the owner of a hotel.’
Dermot smiles. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Never set out to be one either, it just sort of happened.’
‘Finn was telling me you own an island too,’ I say. ‘I think we saw it on our way in to Ballykiltara.’
‘Well technically it’s my wife, Darcy, that owns the island, but we manage it together.’
‘How exciting!’ Kiki says. ‘Owning your own island.’
‘Ah, it’s a lot of hard work, but we enjoy it. Can’t imagine living anywhere else now, can we, Megan?’ he asks the sullen-looking girl next to him.
‘I can,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘It’s you and Darcy that love the place so much. That’s why I want to work here for the summer and not be stranded over there, away from civilisation.’
‘Please excuse my daughter,’ Dermot says, sighing. ‘Her mother’s influence weighs heavy with her. Darcy is my second wife,’ he explains.
‘Don’t worry, Mr O’Connell,’ Donal pipes up. ‘We’ll look after Megan here at The Stag, won’t we, Finn?’
‘We will indeed,’ Finn says. ‘Now we won’t hold you ladies up any further. I hope you have a wonderful evening and may the stars shine brightly for you.’ He catches my eye briefly again. ‘In the mea
ntime, we will continue with Megan’s tour.’
I smile at Dermot. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘And you. Enjoy your stay, ladies.’
Finn leads the way and they depart towards the restaurant.
‘Thank you for all your help, Donal,’ I say quickly before he can get back to the map. ‘I’m sure we’ll find what we need now. I’ll let you know tomorrow how we get on.’
I quickly escort Kiki out of the hotel and towards the car.
‘Right, let’s go,’ I say, jumping into the driver’s seat. ‘We have work to do.’
‘Yes, boss!’ Kiki salutes as she slides into her seat next to me. ‘And as Starsky and Butch would say, “Let’s be careful out there!”’
‘Kiki, you are wrong on so many levels,’ I say, starting the engine and putting the car into gear. ‘Firstly it’s Starsky and Hutch, not Butch, and we are definitely not American TV cops – far from it. If you must make us out to be a crime-fighting duo, I was much happier when you were comparing us to British TV detectives with a little bit of class.’ I pause for a moment at the hotel entrance and wait for a gap in the traffic so I can pull out on to the road. ‘And secondly,’ I say when we’re safely out, ‘that catchphrase is from Hill Street Blues, not Starsky and Hutch.’
‘Hill Street what?’ Kiki asks, opening her rucksack and pulling out a paper bag.
‘Another American cop show. And you’re also confusing your decades. Starsky and Hutch aired in the seventies, and Hill Street Blues the eighties.’
‘How many encyclopaedias did you have to swallow to be this clever?’ Kiki asks, lifting a sugary doughnut from her paper bag. ‘I’ll never be as clever as you because instead of knowledge I’m much happier swallowing this.’ She takes a large bite of the doughnut, and jam begins to ooze from the bottom.
‘Watch out! I could do without having to clean jam and dog hair from this car before we give it back.’
‘Sorry,’ Kiki says, grabbing a tissue from her bag. ‘But they’re just so yummy.’
‘When I said you could bring doughnuts, I meant for the actual stakeout, not the journey to it!’