Kilmoon: A County Clare Mystery

by Alber, Lisa

  “Lung cancer,” Liam said, “and I’ve refused treatment. I smoked for years and that coupled with mixing it up in smoky pubs took its toll.”

  “No!” Merrit said. “You can’t do that. That’s not supposed to happen.”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth just in time to stop a sob from shaking itself free. Liam gentled the same smile at her that he bestowed on his petitioners. His expression said everything, and in that moment she understood the secret to his matchmaking success. He exuded compassion and love—could it be love?—yes, love of humanity in general, an acceptance of foibles and weaknesses in their myriad forms, and an innate awareness of those before him. She’d heard it said that he was charmed, and now she believed it. This man of immense paradox disoriented her, one moment nonchalantly describing Kate’s death and the next saying to her, “You’re stronger than you know, Merrit. I’d stake my peace on that. Andrew, me, who are we to the person you’re becoming? We’re nobodies. I know Julia would be proud to see you now.”

  Merrit ground her hands into her eyes but couldn’t stem the tears. Charmed indeed, saying the one thing that would undo her. Cutting to the crux of her longing. And now, after Liam dies, there’d be no one around to be proud of her.

  Merrit knelt on the floor, scrabbling for the purse she’d flung aside when she’d set about preparing dinner. Inside, her inhaler waited. She’d thought she was getting better, but her body had something else to say about it. Don’t forget me, it said. You’ve got a ways to go yet, it said. Merrit pulled out the inhaler, gasping, sobbing, and inhaled a spray of the odious nothingness. Another squirt, and her panic subsided to a manageable level.

  “I’m sorry you’re ill,” Danny was saying. “Have you gone in for a second opinion?”

  “No need,” Liam said. “It’s the end of a long life.”

  Merrit caught her breath and wiped tears off her cheeks. Though Liam relied on the cane, though she’d caught him pinching his lips as if battling an internal demon, he didn’t look sickly. She recalled Andrew and how for the longest time he managed to elude the appearance of illness even while the malignant feeding frenzy spread from his liver. Surely she could talk Liam into chemotherapy.

  “Kevin was right all along when he complained that you weren’t up for the festival this year,” Danny said.

  Liam’s gaze flickered toward the darkened studio. “Until the balance goes the other way I will proceed as usual.” He pulled on a gold watch fob and checked the time. “Let’s give Kevin a few more minutes, then I’ll drive myself. Don’t worry yourselves over me.”

  “I can take you,” Merrit said.

  “No need for that. I humor Kevin his worries, but how do you think I’ve been to doctors and back?”

  Danny hmm’ed under his breath, and Merrit knew he left unsaid other recent excursions. To Kilmoon Church. To Internet Café.

  “I’ll have to drive you into the village,” Danny said.

  If Liam heard the sorrow in Danny’s voice, he didn’t let on. “Never mind that, I have something to show you. A final bad deed on my part.”

  “Please, no more,” Merrit said.

  “This is nothing by comparison, a mere blip.”

  They followed Liam into the living room. This couldn’t be happening, Merrit thought. It couldn’t. Here she was, finally receiving answers, and Liam was about to be hauled off to the Garda station. Worst of all, he was dying. Which changed everything. Now he really couldn’t go to prison. Not if she could help it.

  After fetching a key from under his easy-chair cushion, Liam led the way down a hallway lined with bedrooms. “I’ll be bedridden soon enough and best to have a new activity to keep me occupied. Danny, don’t you piss yourself dry.”

  Liam pushed open a door with a flourish. Merrit saw nothing unusual about the room. An impressive hardcover book collection with not a lurid cover jacket in sight drew her gaze first. It took her a moment to realize that Danny had gestured toward the desk with a muttered bloody hell. Liam entered ahead of them and picked up a journal that had been lying on top of a laptop computer. He flipped through the pages until an envelope landed on the floor. Merrit recognized her mom’s creamy stationery with Andrew’s hateful letter tucked inside.

  Liam hugged the journal to his chest and sagged onto the desk chair. “He’s gone.”

  Two steps and Danny was stooped beside him. Merrit remained in the doorway, frightened by Liam’s sudden pallor. She found herself staring at what had to be Kate’s laptop while Danny spoke to Liam in a reassuring undertone, his role as Garda officer forgotten for the moment. Merrit ventured closer to hear Liam respond, “I store my journal in the bottom drawer. Leaving it out like that was Kevin’s message to me.” A sound like a sad and plaintive saxophone cry shook his shoulders. “All my efforts, for shite. He’ll have read the letter Andrew sent me before he died. The mystery letter Kevin’s been curious about ever since it arrived. And the journal too. He knows the truth about his adoption and Kate’s mother. He must despise me now.”

  Danny strode past Merrit, back toward the living room. “Where’s your mobile?”

  Merrit steadied herself and ventured closer still. What a colossal idiot to think she could knock on Liam’s door with her presumptuous list of solutions about the deaths, with her self-involved little storyboard about how it would all go once she’d gotten to know Liam. She chewed her lip, anguished by the sight of Liam’s slack lips. So suddenly an enfeebled man come undone by yet another aspect of this affair he couldn’t control: his son’s love for him, a love burdened enough to propel Kevin out of sight rather than face Liam’s catastrophic defects.

  Merrit pulled up an antique wing chair, sat, and held Liam’s bad hand with its knotty scar tissue and thickened knuckles. “You don’t know for sure that he’s gone.”

  “I’d tucked a letter to you into the journal. It’s gone, so he is too.” He grabbed her wrist with his good hand. “It must have been too much, a locked door after my oddness and events of these weeks. I never thought he’d use his master key, didn’t remember it until now, in fact.”

  Danny reentered, phone in hand. “Tell Kevin the truth about your health. He’ll return straightaway then.”

  “I’ll not have him returning for that reason.” Liam shoved the phone away. “The worst part is that he took the knife too. So now he really knows.”

  “What knife?” Danny said.

  “The inlaid knife, you know, the one he made me.” Liam shook his head in a confused manner. “It’s past my appointed time at the pub.”

  Merrit pushed herself from Liam’s side and grabbed the phone from Danny, who stared at Liam as if stricken cold by a medusa. Liam bent over an open drawer and tossed papers onto the floor. “Maybe it’s still here.”

  “The knife’s in evidence,” Danny said.

  Danny stooped to gather up the papers, but Liam swatted his hands aside and continued yanking out the contents of the drawer.

  Merrit stepped away and dialed the phone. “Kevin, this is Merrit. There’s something Liam ought to tell you in person. Something that makes all the difference. So come home.” She added on a sigh, “Liam doesn’t need me. He needs you.”

  She turned to see Danny shutting the drawer, to hear Liam say, “The second inlaid knife. Identical they were.”

  • 51 •

  From Galway City heading west, Route 336 became Route 340 became Route 341 in curves that followed the coast and outlined small bays. The inland route would have dropped him at Connemara’s tip by now, but, Kevin reminded himself, he was onto something new. No more flying straight from one task to another. No hurry, no worry.

  His mobile rang. It took every ounce of his self-discipline to ignore it. The mobile’s tiny monitor stared up at him from the cup holder, the only artificial light for miles. A few flicks of his thumb and he erased the message left from Liam’s number. He didn’t need to hear it to know that he was being summoned home.

  He couldn’t return knowing what he now did
. Deeper still, he couldn’t return because reading Liam’s journal had forced Kevin to admit that he, Kevin, needed to grow up. It sickened him that Liam had felt compelled to engage in one senseless act after another to protect Kevin from the truth of his adoption, Adrienne Meehan, the whole fucking mess. Christ, talk about remorse, talk about his, Kevin’s, uselessness as a human being, talk about pain like a body blow. He would always be the fragile, bereft orphaned boy in Liam’s eyes.

  He eased the truck onto a dirt pullout and rolled down the window. A gust of salty air cooled his cheeks. He picked up the letter addressed to Merrit, congratulating himself for two seconds of hesitation before flaying the envelope.

  Merrit, my dear,

  Here I sit mostly staring into flames on this evening after my final visit to Kilmoon Church. I don’t plan on visiting her again. Apologies for not seeking you out these past weeks. I have my peculiar ways, and in this case they most certainly apply to you. I wished to observe you from afar, and when the proverbial shite hit the proverbial fan, I used the opportunity to catch a glimmer of your coping mechanisms. You do have highly attuned skills, which is an invaluable trait and one I demand of my successor.

  You read correctly: successor. (Ah, Kevin thought, the crux of everything: his legacy.) And, you ask yourself—for I understand you this much—why not Kate, whose coping mechanisms were honed indeed? Here’s the difference I discerned: You coped in a way inclusive to those around you—Marcus, for example—while Kate coped with no one but herself in mind. That you befriended Marcus told me almost all I needed to know about you. That Kate pretended to befriend Lonnie, more than enough about her. Also, unlike you, she yearned for power over others, starting with me.

  I watched you, watched Kate, and decided on you. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

  All might have gone differently for Kate if she hadn’t believed that becoming matchmaker was her right of entitlement in exchange for keeping my secrets from the public, and most especially from Kevin. Another devil’s bargain like that with Andrew? I think not. As flexible as my morals may be, I would never pass down my title to the unfit. This was not an option. She’d have made the worst kind of matchmaker because she resented others’ happiness.

  Her death, I’m afraid, was inevitable once I understood that she’d never let it go …

  • 52 •

  Merrit watched as Danny dragged over a wing chair identical to the one Merrit sat on and positioned himself directly in front of Liam. “What second knife?”

  Liam’s bad hand tensed beneath Merrit’s. Rather than answer, he gazed past them toward the hallway. In the living room, something knocked against a wall. A floorboard creaked, and then a high-pitched yowl echoed through the house, followed by a murmuring voice.

  “Kevin, thank Christ,” Danny said and strode out of the room.

  Liam waved Merrit’s helping hand away and stood on his own. He glanced around the room, at the laptop, at the papers strewn around the desk. “No, not Kevin.”

  Merrit escorted Liam to the living room, where a slight woman in a baggy dress kneeled under the dining room table. An empty cat carrier stood by the front door, and a thin tabby crouched under the table.

  “Liam,” the woman said, her voice ragged and clogged with tears. “This cat is meant to be yours. Kevin said it might be just the thing.”

  Liam straightened and some of the misery lines on his face disappeared. He spoke to the woman in the same inviting tone that Merrit imagined he used with his petitioners. “The cat is fine where it is, Emma. Come on out of there.”

  So this was Kevin’s ex. She wasn’t what Merrit had expected. Emma looked like she was about to disappear into air molecules any second—and that she wouldn’t mind if she did.

  Emma scooted out from under the table and used the table edge to pull herself to her feet. She wrapped her arms around her torso, and in that movement, Merrit recognized her from the night of the party. She’d almost bumped into Emma as she wrestled her way through the crowd outside the pub, and now that Merrit thought about it, Emma had given Merrit a strange look before calling out to someone—Danny’s wife presumably—and brushing past. She’d hugged a baggy cardigan sweater around herself just like she stood now.

  “I saw you,” Merrit said. “That night.”

  The woman fastened her gaze onto Merrit. Her short hair accentuated her boniness except where her face was red and swollen from incessant crying. Merrit stepped back involuntarily as emotion turned Emma’s face a darker shade of red. Then, out of nowhere, Emma stood before Merrit, and Merrit was so struck by the despair leeching out of her that she didn’t duck when Emma’s clawing hands yanked her head back by the hair. Merrit’s neck bones cracked. Emma wailed as if her soul were about to shatter into a million jagged pieces. A moment later, Danny pried Emma off her and stepped back with Emma pressed against his chest in a reverse bear hug.

  “Are you OK?” Danny asked.

  Merrit nodded, more startled than scared.

  Emma squirmed. Her expression flitted between desperation and anger, sadness and indignation, so fast Merrit felt herself whirling too. “I saw the way Kevin looked at you at the party, and you looked at him,” Emma said. “You hoping to grab him up, to use Lonnie to make him jealous. And now because of you, Kevin is gone. Without me.”

  Merrit opened her mouth, but Liam raised his hand. His tone remained calm, as if he were talking to an erratic child. “You know that doesn’t make sense. Besides which, none of that matters. It’s all over. You can relax.”

  Just like that, under his spell, the tension drained from her body. Liam nodded to Danny to let Emma go. Emma stumbled forward and clutched Liam’s outstretched arms. “I’m so tired. I’d like to sleep for forever.”

  “We’ve talked about this before. Not forever. But a nap might be good. Over here on Kevin’s chair.”

  “It smells like him. Like the wood in his studio.”

  Emma waited, placid, while Liam walked to a tall wardrobe, opened it, and lifted a blanket off a high shelf. He spread the blanket over her lap. Emma collapsed into sleep. It happened fast and with a vague smile as she snuggled into Kevin’s chair.

  Merrit’s lungs were fine for once, but her skull throbbed. She lingered a moment in the living room after the men returned to Liam’s study. Marcus had told Merrit about the rape, but he hadn’t mentioned that Emma was still on the edge of a nervous breakdown a year later. One of her arms had flopped onto the armrest. Shiny scars lined her wrist.

  Back in the study, Liam’s show of strength had faded. He appeared fibrous around the edges like he’d gone spongy all of a sudden.

  “Since the rape she’s been erratic like you saw,” he said. “Usually she takes her emotions out on herself though. I’ve been helping her as best as I can.”

  Danny frowned. “What are you on about?”

  “I’m on about the second bloody knife is what. You two thought you’d connected all the dots, but did I ever admit to killing Lonnie? Did I?”

  “You didn’t—?” Danny said.

  “No, I did not. You remember, I mentioned that when perfecting a technique, Kevin’s likely to work something dozens of times until he gets it right. For a while, Kevin carved knife handles—this was before the wood turning—and I don’t know how many flawed handles he tossed aside until he got one right. And when he did, he made a second one, identical, that he gave to Emma.”

  Merrit watched Liam, who lied so well. So well indeed. Only maybe he was finally telling the truth. She’d just remembered something about the sweater that Emma had clutched to herself on the night of the party. A ratty thing, an old man’s cardigan. The next morning with Lonnie lying dead in his office, Ivan had expected to find his sweater hanging in his workroom. Emma must have grabbed it up to hide the blood.

  Liam leaned back in his chair with his head drooped against his chest. His voice sounded weary enough for an early burial. “I was supposed to meet Lonnie at midnight to give him my €1,000, but I
was late. Emma had accomplished the feat by the time I arrived.”

  Danny paced the length of the room. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Indeed not. The moment I saw the knife in Lonnie with me carrying its duplicate in my pocket, I knew. After the rape, Emma used to carry that knife with her everywhere, said she felt protected with a piece of Kevin at her side.”

  “So you’re saying the knife in evidence is Emma’s knife, and the one that was in your drawer—?”

  “Yes, Kevin’s, the one I used to open gifts. You can see why I needed to hide it from Kevin.”

  Danny’s voice rose. “Holy Mary—Liam, dammit, are you listening to me?—this can’t go on. You can’t always protect Kevin from the tough stuff. Did you think Kevin wouldn’t find his knife at some point and realize you’d lied to protect him from Emma’s guilt? What were you thinking?”

  “Just that—protect Kevin from yet another penance in which he would blame himself for her mental troubles. I thought, I’m dying anyhow, let this be my knife, lost during the party. I used the afghan to wipe her knife clean of fingerprints, which is why the afghan ended up with blood on it.” He aimed a wan smile into his lap. “Once again I thought I’d handled the mess, which seems to be my folly.”

  “Now the mess is on me.” Danny stopped pacing. “I’ll call the pub to announce your absence due to”—his eyes flickered over Liam’s slouched form—“fatigue. Then I’ll be on my way with Emma.” He stooped closer. “You understand I must take her in? She needs psychiatric help at the very least.”

  “Kevin would probably agree with that assessment.”

  “And after Emma, I have to come back for you, by Christ.”

  Merrit had been listening quietly, massaging her sore head. She dropped her hand, her chest tensing. “After all this? He’ll be a prisoner inside his body soon enough.”

  “Kate was bloody well premeditated. You think I can ignore that? You think Liam doesn’t deserve the consequences before he kicks off?”

  Merrit stood her ground, too aware that Danny would never understand her perspective. There was no way to explain how her own darkness got mixed up with empathy for Liam.