by Zara Keane
“What sort of example are you setting for Niall?” Her mouth opened and closed in a silent prayer.
Jonas thought of his little brother, away at university, blithely ignoring his studies in favor of partying. “I doubt Niall needs my help in learning to misbehave,” he said dryly. “Besides, I work hard to support my son. How is that setting a bad example? As for Susanne, I don’t see what a difference a marriage certificate would have made to our relationship. We’d have broken up either way.”
If his mother tugged any harder on her necklace, she’d strangle herself. “I’m only saying what other people think. If you hadn’t gone and punched Gant on the beach a few months ago, no one would suspect you of murder.”
He shoved his chair back and stood. He’d had enough of this crap. “Let them think what they like. I know I had nothing to do with Gant’s death, and that’s all that matters.”
His father lumbered into the kitchen, clad in his work clothes, Luca by his side. “That’s enough, Nuala. Leave the boy in peace.”
“You always stand up for him, Liam,” she said bitterly. “You won’t hear a word said against him.”
“Of course I always stand up for him,” Liam said gruffly, meeting Jonas’s eye. “That’s what dads do.” He gave Luca a gentle shove toward Jonas.
Jonas took the hint. “And this dad is going to take this boy home to bed. Thanks for looking after him this afternoon.”
“Ah, he was no bother. Great little lad, he is.” He nodded to Jonas. “Come on. I’ll walk you two to the car.”
Outside the house, Luca ran to the car and got into the back seat. Jonas made to go after him, but his father laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t mind your mother. She has a sharp tongue at times, but she loves you. She’s out of her mind with worry.”
“Doesn’t she realize I’m worried, too?” Jonas said in exasperation. “And not just for myself. If those clowns from Dublin cobble up enough so-called evidence to charge Olivia with murder, there’s no guarantee a jury will find her innocent.”
“I know, son.” Liam’s graying eyebrows were drawn together. “But you’re doing Olivia no good by worrying yourself into a fret.”
Jonas plucked a stray leaf off a garden bush. “Let’s face it—Mam’s saying what you both think. I know you have no time for Olivia.”
“Don’t put words into my mouth or my mind,” Liam said in a gruff tone. “I won’t deny I’ve said negative things about Olivia in the past, but she was good to Luca while your mother was away, and she was a pleasure to work with during the café renovation. Besides, I never had time for Aidan Gant. A nasty, sly weasel of a man.”
“Wow. I had no idea you disliked him so intensely.”
Liam snorted. “Why wouldn’t I? He swanned around Ballybeg like he owned the place and every woman in it.”
“His affairs were common knowledge?” His voice rose in a question. “I had no idea he was unfaithful until Olivia mentioned it.”
“Oh, yeah. He was discreet, but word gets round. I assumed Olivia put up with it for the money.”
The idea of anyone, let alone strong, feisty Olivia, being brought so low as to feel they had to tolerate such treatment set his teeth on edge. “I think she felt trapped.”
“If she did, it was a trap of her own making.” His father waggled bushy eyebrows in disapproval. “Mind you, it’s no wonder her priorities are skewed. That family of hers is a bad lot, particularly the mother. Neither she nor her husband pay any attention to their children.”
Jonas grimaced. “Olivia’s mother was never my greatest fan.”
“Of course not. You don’t fawn over her overexposed cleavage and crappy art.”
“Now, now, Dad,” he said with a laugh. “Your claws are showing.”
Liam snorted. “If I were the police, I’d look in a different direction for Aidan’s killer.”
His eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean? Do you know something?”
“I know nothing,” he said, his mouth forming a belligerent line. “But I’m in and out of houses in Ballybeg every week for work. I can’t help but hear snippets of gossip or see things I’m not supposed to.”
“If you have any idea who did this, you have to talk to the police.”
His father sighed and shook his head. “Son, if I had proof, I would. They’re not going to listen to a hunch, now are they?”
“Probably not,” he conceded. “But for feck’s sake, don’t go around telling people you know who did it. I don’t want you to be the next victim.”
His father crossed his arms and gave him That Look that had scared the bejaysus out of him as a child. “I’m not a fool, Jonas. If the person I suspect is the guilty one, I wouldn’t dare get on their bad side.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
OLIVIA STARED NUMBLY at the coffin. None of it seemed real. The mass of people milling around—even more than at Aidan’s wake—was an exercise in torture.
A lot had happened in the four days since the incident at the café. The police had questioned her again, this time with her new lawyer present. She’d told them everything she knew, including a list of Aidan’s girlfriends, people he’d argued with over politics, and former investors in the shopping center project. Once again, Connelly had dismissed her story about Aidan’s proposed settlement. No evidence of a draft had been found on Aidan’s computers, and his divorce lawyer claimed ignorance.
The forensic pathologist had finished her work a couple of days previously, and the body had been released to the family for burial. During an awkward conversation with Patricia, she gave her mother-in-law formal permission to organize the funeral as she saw fit.
And now here Olivia was, sitting stiff-backed in a church pew, the hard wood uncompromising and uncomfortable as the accusatory stares from the congregation.
She shifted on the hard bench, grateful for her brothers sitting on either side of her. Their parents and grandfather also sat in the front pew on one side of the church; Aidan’s mother and her few relatives were on the other. Patricia was regal in her dramatic black gown, complete with a veiled hat. Olivia fingered her beige cardigan. The hypocrisy of wearing relentless black revolted her. She’d compromised by choosing subdued colors. Her eyes flitted over the tall stained-glass window at the front of the church. She avoided looking in Patricia’s direction. The one cold glance she’d caught from her had been hard as flint.
Her nostrils twitched from the cloying scent of incense. Thank goodness she wasn’t expected to do a reading. Father Fagin droned on, as he was wont to do, making the mass seem interminable. Father Fagin was ancient and had known Aidan since his christening. He relayed every small incident from Aidan’s life, all highly embellished. Olivia remembered the vicious jokes Aidan used to make at the elderly priest’s expense. He obviously hadn’t envisioned the elderly priest officiating at his funeral.
At last the bells tolled, and the procession from the altar to the graveyard commenced. Her grandfather linked arms with her as they followed the coffin. The younger members of the town council carried it to the hearse along with a couple of men from the Gnome Appreciation Society. Try as she might, the only emotion Olivia could muster when she stared at the rich mahogany casket was a numb sense of regret. Partly for Aidan, partly for herself, and partly for the entire sorry situation. How had this happened? A few weeks ago, she’d been happy. For the first time in years, she’d felt at peace, light, carefree. Now it was all smashed to smithereens.
At the graveyard, the crowd surrounding Aidan’s plot brought out her inner claustrophobic. In typical Irish fashion, the whole town had turned out for the funeral. Those who couldn’t squeeze into the church had made sure to storm the graveyard. Aidan had been a well-respected member of the town council and solicitor to many of Ballybeg’s inhabitants. The fact that he’d been murdered merely added to the allure of his funeral. She shuddered. People were sick.
On the other side of the plot, she registered Jonas’s tall form, standing toward the back of the c
rowd with Luca and his parents. Liam gave her a nod, but Nuala merely pursed her lips and looked away.
Julie Jobson and her family were there, snobby and aloof. The look of sheer hatred in Julie’s eyes gave Olivia the shivers.
She shifted her attention to her own family. Resplendent in black velvet, Victoria’s eyes were red-rimmed and downcast. Beside her, Dad shifted uncomfortably in his ill-fitting suit. Despite all that had happened, Aidan had been their friend once upon a time.
When the coffin was finally lowered into the ground and the requisite prayers intoned, the crowd began to disperse. Olivia had taken a few tentative steps toward the car park when she someone grabbed her arm. Sharp nails dug into her skin. The cloud of Elizabeth Arden’s Youth Dew tipped her off before she turned.
“You’re a disgrace,” hissed her mother-in-law. “I told Aidan not to marry you. I warned him no good would come of it. But even I didn’t foresee you stooping to murder. You and that…that…fornicator.”
Fornicator? Seriously? Who used that term in this day and age? This was fast descending into a third-rate comedy, only Olivia wasn’t laughing. She yanked her arm free. Whatever fragile hold she’d had over her emotions splintered. “Shut your mouth, Patricia. I didn’t kill Aidan, and neither did Jonas. Let the police do their job before casting aspersions.”
“Oh, I’ll let them do their job all right.” Patricia mouth trembled. “I’ll help them in any way I can. Anything to get you and that murdering thug locked up. We’re not safe in our beds with you at large.”
“Oh, for feck’s sake. Get a grip. We lived under the same roof for the best part of eight years. In all that time, did I give you any reason to be afraid of me?”
Patricia sniffed. “I always knew there was something off about you. I told Aidan. I warned him.” She heaved a sob. “And look what’s come to pass.”
Seán Mackey approached with purposeful gait. “Anything the matter, ladies?”
“I want this creature to leave.” Patricia’s voice broke on a sob. “I don’t want her anywhere near my son’s funeral.”
She gestured to the dispersing crowd. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the funeral is over. I wasn’t planning on coming back to your place for sandwiches.”
“Come on, Olivia.” Seán took her arm gently. “Let me drive you home.”
“Home is where I was headed before Patricia ambushed me.” She huffed in frustration. “But I refuse to slink off letting people point fingers and assume I have something to be ashamed of. After all, Aidan slept with half the women here. Anyone with a scrap of intuition knows our marriage was a farce.”
Patricia made a choking sound.
“Olivia,” Seán murmured, a pained expression on his face, “is this the moment?”
“No, of course it’s not. But I’m fed up with people judging me when they don’t know what my married life was like.” She faced Patricia. “I didn’t kill your son, and I didn’t wish him dead, but I’m not sorry he’s out of my life.”
Seán’s eyes darted around the crowd. “Christ, Olivia. Shut up for your own sake. Connelly’s itching to arrest you. Don’t give him an excuse.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do you have proof against me?”
“You know we have nothing concrete, or else we’d have come calling long ago.”
“So I can say what I like.” Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, and she rubbed them away hastily.
Seán ran an agitated hand through his tightly cropped hair. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the cottage.”
“No need,” said a familiar deep voice from behind her. “I’ll drive her home.”
Seán’s blue eyes clashed with Jonas’s dark ones. Olivia suppressed a groan. Now was not the moment for them to have a macho power struggle.
Thankfully, Seán shrugged, conceding defeat. “Fine. Just make sure she stays clear of Patricia.”
Jonas nodded gravely and took Olivia’s arm. She allowed him to lead her through the curious crowd toward the graveyard car park.
“Was that wise?” she whispered as they approached Jonas’s car. “If the gossips hadn’t already guessed there was something between us, you’ve confirmed it now. I’m beyond caring, but your parents will be upset.”
“My parents already know I’m seeing you,” he said and pressed the automatic car key. He held the passenger door open for Olivia before getting into the driver’s seat.
Her jaw slid south. “You told them about us? Are they upset?”
“I didn’t have to tell them. They read about it in the local rag like everyone else.” He grimaced. “They’re not thrilled, but they’ll get over it. Dad rather likes you in his grudging fashion. Mam brought up Bry again, but I cut her off. It’s high time she accepts his death was an accident and stops blaming you.” He pulled out into the road and drove in the direction of their street. “Speaking of grieving mothers, you’re going to have to learn to hold your temper around Patricia Gant. In her current mood, she’ll do anything to prove you killed her son.”
Olivia’s stomach sank. “She can’t prove what didn’t happen.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure? She was in no hurry to support your story about the settlement. If part of it would have been her money, she must have known about it.”
“Yet she denied all knowledge of it to the police,” Olivia said with a sigh. “Yeah, I see where you’re coming from, but Patricia needs someone to blame and I’m an obvious target.”
“So avoid her.”
She gave a little laugh. “Easier said than done in a town this size. Plus I’ll see her tomorrow at the reading of the will.”
“That won’t be pleasant.”
“Quite the understatement.” She groaned and put her face in her hands. “I was obsessed about becoming financially independent from Aidan. The very idea of inheriting his money is nauseating.”
“It might give you enough to get a house large enough for you and your brothers.”
“I know. It’s what I’ve been working toward for ages. I feel awful profiting from Aidan’s murder.”
Jonas turned into their road and eased the car into his parking space. “Could you go away for a few weeks after the will’s read? Did the police say you had to stay put while they conduct the investigation?”
“They haven’t confiscated my passport, if that’s what you mean. But Detective Inspector Connelly”—she made a face—“‘strongly suggested’ I not go anywhere.”
He cupped her chin in his hand. “I worry about you, Olivia. Those shadows under your eyes tell me you haven’t been sleeping. A break might do you good.”
“Perhaps. But I have the café to run. Besides, if I was going anywhere, I’d rather it be with you.” She leaned forward close enough to smell peppermint on his breath. “Daft as it sounds, I’m glad you’re next door. It helps knowing you’re nearby.”
“You know you can call round at any time, right?” He dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “I haven’t pushed myself forward since Aidan’s death because I sensed you needed the space. If that’s no longer the case, please tell me.”
Olivia put a hand on his thigh, feeling the now-familiar thrill of awareness course through her veins. “I don’t want to push you away and don’t want to wreck what we’ve started. But my emotions are all over the place. I’m not sure I’d make good company at the moment.”
“So?” He gave a laugh. “I live with Luca, remember? He’s not exactly Mr. Sociable. Call over anytime, or text me if you want us to come next door.”
“Thanks, Jonas. I will.” She opened the car door, then paused before getting out. “Are you coming inside, or do you need to collect Luca?”
“I need to collect him. My mother has a doctor appointment in an hour, and Dad has work. Will you be all right on your own?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to give Fiona a call to see if she can come by.”
“You do that.” He leaned over and gave her a feather-light kiss on the lips. “Now get insid
e and pour yourself a large whiskey. After the morning you’ve had, you deserve it.”
She watched him drive off and then fumbled through her bag for her key. Why can’t life be a little less complicated? she thought as she climbed the ladder to her loft apartment. Why couldn’t everything run smoothly from Point A to Point B without meandering detours and unexpected forks in the road? At twenty, she’d been sure of her path in life. Even a couple of months ago, she could see her way. Now everything was thick with foggy indecision and uncertainty. And fear. If the Cork detectives charged her and Jonas with murder, would a jury find them guilty?
Chapter Thirty
OLIVIA’S HAND FROZE over the cake, the knife suspended in the air. Was she hearing right?
“You don’t want to move in with me?” she repeated dumbly. The walls of her grandfather’s kitchen closed in on her.
Ronan and Kyle exchanged uneasy glances. “Why did you think we would?”
“I…,” she stammered, “I just thought you two were keen to escape our parents.”
Ronan flushed and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I said I couldn’t wait to move out of home. I never said I wanted to move in with you.”
“No offense, Sis,” Kyle said with a grin, “but I don’t think I’d like living under your regime. Mum and Dad let us do pretty much whatever we want.”
She wrung her hands in exasperation. “That’s precisely the problem.” Had she wasted all this worry over their home situation for nothing?
Kyle jerked a thumb toward their grandfather’s living room. “What do you think of my new girlfriend?”
“Serena seems a nice girl,” replied Olivia cautiously.
Kyle’s grin widened. “In other words, you hate her.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Ronan cocked an eyebrow. “Why would any of us be interested in your girlfriend? You’ll have a new one by next week.”
Kyle ignored his brother and yanked open the fridge “Serena wants a diet cola. I’d better bring it in to her. Want one, Ro?”