As for herself, Maura realized she was coming up on a year in Leap. Well, nine months. The first few months had been kind of a blur, what with grieving for Gran and then trying to take in what Gran had done for her, fixing it with Old Mick so she would inherit the pub and his house. And then she’d had to learn how to manage a pub and employees and how to live in a country she’d never seen before. Things had worked out pretty well—with the help of other people, freely offered and given. Maybe that was what she was doing with Diane: paying it back. Trying to help, although Diane hadn’t asked for it.
When there was a lull, Maura went over to where Diane sat and dropped into a chair. “How’re you holding up?”
“After this long, I guess I think ‘what will be, will be.’ If anything changes, the gardaí know where to find me. I saw Gillian and Harry leaving. Everything all right there?”
“Harry came by to collect her, and they’re off making plans. All good, I promise.”
“I’m glad for them.”
Maura stood up and crossed to room to where Billy sat. She perched on the chair next to his by the fire. “How’re you doing, Billy?”
“I think I’ll be heading to me own place soon. These old bones need a good rest.”
Maura paused a moment, struggling to put her question into words. “Billy, what do you think is going to happen now?”
“Ah, Maura . . . I’m thinkin’ the gardaí got it wrong back in the day. That’s not to blame them—it was a big crime, and there was more than one station called in to help. Which was both good and bad.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s the local station that knows the local people. Someone should have looked harder at the Dempsey man. He’d been in trouble before, in Schull. But whoever it was talked to Ellen believed what she told them, and she never changed her story. At least after . . . whatever happened, Jacky Dempsey stayed out of trouble, so far as we know.”
“Billy, I have to ask this, but don’t laugh. How does it happen that Bart, who’s a garda and part of the original investigation, goes off the road in front of Joe’s home, and Joe just happens to be married to Nora, who’s Ellen Layton’s sister, and Nora got the story from Ellen years ago? And then Joe and Diane end up here at the same time and turn the whole story on its head?”
Billy smiled. “Ah, Maura, that’s how things work in West Cork. And it’s about the family—and loyalty. I’m guessin’ that Ellen felt she couldn’t betray her brother, at least not to the gardaí, but came the time when she had to share with Nora. And Nora kept quiet as well because family came first.”
“And Diane was an outsider. I guess I see that. After all, here I am—if it wasn’t for my grandmother, I’d be an outsider too, and I wouldn’t be here.”
“Family’s important, Maura. The one you come from—and the one you choose. That’s why we all stick close.” Billy fumbled for his cane next to his chair. “I’d best be on my way before I can’t move at all.”
“Take it slow, Billy, and watch out for icy patches.”
After she had watched to make sure that Billy had made it safely to his own front door, Maura was surprised to hear the pub’s phone ringing—that was a rare event. She didn’t even know if they needed a landline, but it had come with the place, and she hadn’t changed it, since the cost was so low. She located it under the bar and answered tentatively. “Sullivan’s.”
“Maura? It’s Patrick Hurley.”
That was the last person she had expected to hear: the head of the local gardaí. “Uh, hello. Can I help you with something?” She tried to appear casual as she pulled the phone as far away from the bar as she could and turned her back on the small crowd. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted everyone to hear what she was saying—or to know she was talking to the gardaí.
“It’s more a case of helping you, I’m guessing. Bart Hayes has been here since he got his car back on the road, but then, you knew he was on his way. What we didn’t expect was to see Nora Minahane and her sister Ellen Layton here not long after.”
Maura managed not to drop the phone. “They came in by themselves? You didn’t, uh, invite them?”
“Turns out Joe Minahane told Nora that Diane was at your place and that the lot of you had been talking about the old murder, and she decided that Ellen should tell us everything for her own safety.”
“Jacky Dempsey still living with her?”
“He is, and if word gets back to him about what’s been going on, Ellen might pay the price—Jacky’s got a temper, and there’ve been incidents with him before. She’s made the right choice.”
“Where is he now?”
“We’ve men out looking for him, and we’ve alerted the Schull gardaí.”
“And Ellen’s told you what happened?”
“She has.” The detective cleared his throat. “Maura, this goes against a lot of rules, but I hear Diane Caldwell is planning to leave soon, and Ellen wants to meet with her before she goes. Could the two of you come to the station?”
“Now?” Maura turned to look at the crowd: Mick and Jimmy could handle it, at least for a while. “Uh, yeah, sure. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
As she returned the phone to its regular place, Maura realized that most of the people in the pub, including her staff, were staring at her expectantly. “What?” Her tone was sharper than she had expected, and she felt she should apologize somehow. “Sorry. That was the gardaí in Skibbereen. They want to talk to Diane, and I’m going to take her over there now.”
“Have they arrested anyone?” someone asked.
“I didn’t ask. I’ll be back later, and I’ll fill you in then. Mick, Jimmy—can you cover?”
“Sure. You’d best go now,” Mick said.
As Maura approached Diane, she couldn’t read her expression. It was an odd mix of hope and fear. “What’s happened?” Diane asked.
“Outside,” Maura said tersely. “Grab your coat.”
Diane complied, and they walked out the front door. On the way to the car, Maura said, “Joe’s wife and her sister Ellen showed up at the garda station while Bart was there. Ellen wants to talk to you.”
“What has she said?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to make a wild guess that we got it right, because otherwise I doubt Detective Hurley would ask to see us now. We’ll find out soon enough.”
Diane said little as they drove the short distance to Skibbereen. Maura wasn’t sure what to say—or think. It seemed like they’d been right. All that casual talk in the pub the night before had somehow produced enough pieces that the answer had come out. Not that she wanted to take all the credit, and she didn’t want to make the gardaí look bad, but they’d found at least some part of the truth. She should be happy, shouldn’t she? Still, Jacky Dempsey was out there somewhere, and he still might be a threat. He’d gotten away with murder, and just because he’d behaved himself for the last twenty years didn’t cancel that out. And he’d kept his sister Ellen quiet for all that time. How had Nora managed to escape the family?
When Maura had parked near the garda station, Diane spoke for the first time. “Will Ellen be in any trouble? I mean, for concealing evidence of a crime or whatever you call it here?”
“I can’t tell you. If Joe was telling the truth about what his wife told him long after the murder, then Ellen Layton really didn’t know what happened, although she might have suspected. You could probably argue that she should have told the gardaí her suspicions, but it sounds like Jacky wasn’t admitting anything, and she was scared of him. Plus, she needed his labor to keep the farm going. People like Billy keep telling me that family comes first. But this doesn’t seem like a good example. You ready?”
“I think so. You know this detective?”
“I do. He’s good at what he does, and he’s fair.”
They walked into the small vestibule, gave their names to the person at the front desk, and were escorted to a conference room that Maura knew better than sh
e wanted to. They sat together at one end of the long conference table there and waited silently until Detective Hurley opened the door and escorted two middle-aged women in before following them and shutting the door behind him. “Please sit,” he told the women, who had to be the Dempsey sisters. “Before we start, I want to make something clear. This meeting is not happening. I am divulging information that I should not make public, but I think Maura and Diane have earned the right to hear it, and I trust that they won’t spread it any farther until it becomes public information, which should happen shortly. Do you all understand that?”
The four women nodded silently.
“Then let’s begin. There is no recording being made of what we say today, if you’re concerned. I assume you all know who the others are?”
“Hello, Ellen,” Diane said. “It’s been a long time. And you must be her sister, Nora,” Diane turned toward the second woman, whose resemblance to Ellen was clear. “Thank you for coming forward, both of you.”
Ellen Dempsey Layton looked small and sad—her hair badly in need of cutting, her clothing worn and faded but very clean. Was that what keeping an awful secret for decades did to you? Sucked the life out of you? Maura wondered. Or was it the hard work of keeping a failing dairy farm going? Not to mention living with a brother who she was probably pretty sure was a murderer.
“Can we get on with it?” Ellen said suddenly. “I asked to meet with yez because it’s time the truth came out. And to apologize, if I can, fer doin’ this to yeh, Diane. You’d done nothin’ to deserve it. But once the circus began, there was no stoppin’ it.”
“I used to see you walking your dog,” Diane said. “With your husband. Are you still raising the dogs?” Maura wondered if she was trying to calm Ellen.
Ellen nodded. “I am—Denis is gone now, as you may know. The dogs, they bring in a bit of money now and then.”
“There was a dog there that night, wasn’t there?” Diane prompted.
Ellen nodded. “There was. Me brother Jacky took her out fer a walk—seemed odd to me then, for he rarely offered, but I wouldn’t say no. It were late, and it was rainin’, so I let him. He was gone fer a while. I thought I could hear Pansy barkin’ out somewhere over the fields, but I figgered she’d scared up a rabbit or somethin’. When Jacky came back, poor Pansy was all wet and muddy. He were pretty muddy himself.”
No blood? Maura wondered. But best not to interrupt Ellen now.
“So it were the next mornin’,” Ellen went on after a pause, “and me husband and me were walking Pansy again, and that’s when we found . . . her. The woman, Sharon. The gardaí know the story after that.” She glanced again at the detective. “They asked me often enough.”
Ellen swallowed before continuing. “She were just lyin’ there, all bloody, Sharon was. Made me sick, it did.”
“You can skip that part, Ellen,” Diane said. “When did you begin to think your brother might have had something to do with it?”
“It were January, right? And Jacky weren’t wearin’ his coat, the one he wore to go out and see to the cows. They were in the big shed, but they needed feedin’ and milkin’ and all. A couple days later, I found the coat out in the barn behind some hay and thought mebbe he’d forgot it there. So I brought it in to clean it up, and that’s when I saw the blood on it. I tried to ask him about it, and he said a cow had got cut on a bit of metal and got blood on it, and I should stop botherin’ him about it. So I stopped.”
Ellen paused again, gathering her courage. Her sister remained silent but laid a hand over Ellen’s, and Ellen resumed her story. “He were an angry man, then and now. Denis’s da’s farm failed, and Denis took it over. Me da’s farm was long gone, but he’d left Jacky out of it because he’d already had his troubles with the gardaí, and he had no love fer farmin’. But Jacky had no place to go, and Denis and me, we needed an extra hand with the cows, so we took him in. He did what he had to do at the farm and no more, and he acted like he owned the place even before me husband passed away. He was one for the drink, but he didn’t much like pubs, so he’d stay home with his bottle. The drink made him angrier.”
“He never married?” Diane asked.
Ellen smiled grimly. “What woman would have him? He had no land, no work of his own. And he would have to have treated a woman right. I don’t know if he knew how.”
“What did he want with Sharon, then?”
“Story was, Sharon Morgan was . . . well, it was said that she liked the men. She’d been carryin’ on with Diane’s husband, hadn’t she? Maybe Jacky thought she’d be an easy mark. But he never admitted to anything, so I’m no more than guessin’.”
“You knew?” Diane asked, dismayed.
“We seen yer man sneaking over, now and then,” Ellen said.
Diane shook her head. “How did Jacky get Sharon out of the house that night?” Diane prompted her.
Ellen turned to her. “That’s why he took the dog, I’d say. He must’ve tied her to a fence, which Pansy did not like, and that’s what set her to barkin’. And then he could’ve gone knockin’ on Sharon’s door to ask her to help findin’ Pansy, who’d slipped away from him in the dark. She knew the dog, yeh see, and Jacky must have said he was my brother, so she didn’t think twice about helpin’ him.”
“Was he drunk?” Diane said.
Ellen looked away then. “He was, but I didn’t think he could come to any harm just walkin’ the dog. I never thought . . .” Ellen swallowed again, then sat up straighter. “I don’t know what Jacky had planned. Maybe he thought she’d ask him in and give him a cup of tea or something stronger. But that didn’t happen.”
Nora finally spoke. “Yeh’ve been too soft on that boy all yer life, Ellen. I’d have straightened him out if I’d been around.” Nora turned to the rest of the table. “He had no luck with women, but he never figgered it was his fault. It was worse when he was drinkin’. He must have made his move on Sharon once she’d opened the door to him, but she was all in a hurry to get into her boots and find poor Pansy. When he finally made his grab fer her and she figgered out what he wanted, she wasn’t havin’ any of it and told him as much, and he went blind with rage, or so I’m guessin’. Weren’t the first time he’d lost control like that. His brothers still have the scars to this day.”
“He had a knife?” Diane asked.
“He carried one by habit,” Ellen said, relieved to talk about something less distasteful to her. “The cows are always after gettin’ into tangles, and it’s handy to have. He probably never thought about usin’ it, until the end . . .”
Diane spoke again after a long silence. “You know he stabbed her many, many times. And then he left her there on the ground, not even knowing whether Sharon was dead or alive. He remembered to retrieve the dog and walked back to your house, and he hid the bloody coat on the way. Ellen, did you know? Or suspect? Then or only later?”
“May God forgive me, I didn’t want to know. If we wanted to keep the farm, Denis and me, we needed him. We couldn’t pay anyone else. So I didn’t ask, and I don’t think Denis ever suspected a thing. But there was the coat, and Jacky jumped all over me when I asked about that. Over the years, he let slip a word or two, especially after he’d been drinkin’. When the murder came up in the news now and again, he’d get this funny look on his face, almost like he was smilin’. He might’ve hit a woman a time or two when he went to a pub—the gardaí in Schull might know of that. I’m sorry—I know I should’ve said something, but we would’ve lost the farm without his help, and then where would we have gone? We’d nothin’ else. And he was my brother.”
Diane turned to Detective Hurley. “Is this enough to arrest Jacky Dempsey?”
Detective Hurley looked at her, his face neutral. “I’m fairly sure the case against him is strong. We’ll bring him in as soon as we find him, and we’ll have the warrant shortly.”
“And that will be the end of it,” Diane said, almost to herself.
“No, wait!” Maura interrupted, un
willing to let this go with so many loose ends. “What happened to the Morgan land, Ellen?”
Ellen looked at her blankly for a long moment. “Me husband bought the place mebbe a year later. The husband—Paul, was it?—he didn’t want nothin’ to do with it anymore and was glad to be rid of it. We needed it fer the cows, see, and he made us a good deal.”
So she had been on the right track the night before, in a way, Maura thought, but she hadn’t known about Jacky. But he was the gardaí’s problem now.
Diane finally spoke, looking at Ellen again. “Ellen, thank you for coming forward now. It’s been hard on me, living with this, so I can’t imagine how much worse it must have been for you all these years, wondering if your brother was a killer and sharing a home with him.”
“Thank you, Diane,” Ellen answered. The two women exchanged a long, wordless look.
Then Diane turned to the detective, “Thank you as well for listening to Bart and for moving this forward.”
Detective Hurley smiled wryly. “It was Maura who convinced Bart Hayes, which is no easy thing to do. I’ve come to trust her instincts. What’s more, this unfinished case has been a thorn in the side for the gardaí here for years, and we’ll be glad to see the back of it with a successful conclusion.”
“I’m glad yer all so happy, but what are we to do now?” Nora demanded belligerently. “We can’t go home and wait for Jacky to kill us in our beds, fer sure he’ll know who blabbed.”
Cruel Winter: A County Cork Mystery Page 22