An Early Wake

by Sheila Connolly

  “Ah, sure and his death is a sad thing, but it’s the music that matters, and it’s been missed around here. Let things settle a bit—yeh don’t have to decide today.”

  “I’d like to find out more about how Aidan died before I decide anything.” She debated about telling Bridget about the bruises on Aidan’s neck, and Tim’s unexpected announcement, but decided that it would only upset her.

  “And that’s as it should be.”

  “Did you hear from Mick about the death?”

  “That I didn’t. He knows I have trouble hearing the phone. But anywise, he’s afraid of unsettling me, he is, so he might say nothing at all. It’s kind of him, but I don’t need to be cosseted.”

  “He’s pretty closemouthed in general, isn’t he?”

  “He’s a good lad.”

  Maura noted that Bridget hadn’t answered her question, exactly. Mick never talked about himself. Was there a reason? Some dark secret? Or maybe he simply had nothing to tell. But she’d seen his eyes light up when the bands came back, so she suspected there was something hiding behind his usually calm face. Was it worth digging for?

  Maura drained her mug. “I’d better get going. Mick’s opening today, but we may still be busy just answering everyone’s questions. Although it felt like half of the county passed through Sullivan’s yesterday, just to hear the news from us. And Sean may be coming by too.”

  “He’s a steady boy, that one.”

  “Yeah,” Maura agreed amiably. “Thanks for the bread and tea. I’ll see myself out.”

  It was just past ten when Maura arrived at Sullivan’s. Everything looked peaceful. She walked in to find Mick talking with their distributor about swapping out kegs. It crossed her mind that as the owner, maybe she should step in and demand the distributor talk with her, but it seemed kind of dumb to upset what had been working fine until now. If she was going to start throwing her weight around, she could pick her times more carefully. Besides, she was glad she didn’t have to wrestle the darn things: she could if she had to, but they were heavy and hard to handle, so it was nice to have someone else do it.

  When the man had left, Mick turned to her. “That’s one problem solved. How’re yeh doin’ this morning?”

  “Okay. I stopped by for a cup of tea with Bridget. I think she’s ticked off that you didn’t give her all the juicy gossip about Aidan’s death yourself.”

  Mick’s mouth twitched. “Better than the telly, are we?” Then his expression sobered. “Did yeh hear anything useful out of Tim last night?”

  “I think he has some information that the gardaí can use.” She didn’t think the details about Tim’s parentage were hers to share. “I called Sean earlier, and he said he’d talk to Tim this morning, and then he’s got a meeting at the station, so we probably won’t hear anything new for a while. You don’t know anything else, do you?”

  “I’ve had no news at all since we left last night.”

  “You’ll be here all day today? You don’t have other plans?” What does Mick do when he isn’t working here? She’d never asked directly.

  “I may go see Granny and fill her ear, since she wants to hear the news. Jimmy’ll be in, and Rose as well. We can send her home if we don’t need the help.”

  “It might be good if Rose is here if Tim comes in after talking to the gardaí.”

  “Fair enough. Shall we open?” Mick asked.

  “I want to run to the bank first. I get nervous with a lot of money sitting around. You did bring Saturday’s haul, right?”

  “Nah, I’m sitting on a beach in Ibiza right now,” Mick answered. “Yes, of course I did.” He handed her the bundle of bills, held together with a rubber band.

  “That looks nice,” Maura said. “Would you mind getting the rest out of the till and counting it, while I count this?” She knew Sunday’s take had been far less than Saturday’s but suspected it was still well above average. She started counting. When she was finished, she started counting again. Finally she said, “Wow.”

  “That would be good, then?” Mick asked, his eyes on the bills he was counting.

  Maura was still trying to wrap her head around the total. “That would be great. This is more than we’ve made in months. Maybe ever, in one night. Or week. How much from yesterday?”

  Mick squared up the stack of bills and named a figure that was over half of Saturday’s income. “Good enough fer yeh?”

  “It’s . . . amazing.” Maura felt a spurt of joy: the music had worked its magic. Then a stab of dismay: could it ever be the same, after Aidan? “I am going to take this straight to the bank, right now. For all I know, the roof is about to fall on my head, and I want to know the money’s safe. I’ll try to be back before Sean gets here.”

  “I’ll take care of the place. See yeh,” Mick replied.

  Maura retrieved her car and drove carefully to Skibbereen. Maybe she was being superstitious, but she didn’t want to have an accident and have the car burst into flames, destroying all that hard-earned money. She was still stunned. Even if it never happened again, Saturday night’s session (and Sunday’s overflow) had together brought in enough money to see Sullivan’s through the quiet winter season and up to next year’s tourist season. She would survive her first year at the place, with change left over. Maybe she could even think about replacing a couple of pieces of ratty furniture.

  Happy fantasies occupied Maura as she drove the seven miles to Skibbereen, made her deposit at the bank—smiling—and drove back to Leap.

  Maybe things might actually work out after this.

  Chapter 18

  By the time Sean finally arrived it was late in the afternoon, although Maura had been so rushed that she hadn’t noticed the time. As she had told Bridget, there were more curious people who wanted to hear about the music and the death, which apparently made an appealing combination. It was fairly quiet when Sean walked in, during the lull between the lunch crowd and the predinner crowd. He looked tired.

  “Hey, Sean,” Maura said when he came over and leaned against the bar. “You look like you could use a coffee.”

  “Could yeh make it a tea, please?” He settled himself on a stool.

  “Coming up.” She filled a pot with hot water from the coffee machine’s spout, added a pair of Barry’s tea bags, and set it down to steep before turning back to talk to him. “So, did you talk with Tim?”

  “Couldn’t find him,” Sean said. “This morning, I checked at the Keohanes’ where he’s been stayin’, and Ellen let me in. His things are there, but there’s no sign of him. Hasn’t come back either, or so she says—I was just over there again.”

  “Damn,” Maura said, more to herself than to Sean. “He promised he’d talk to you. Maybe he went on a long walk to clear his head and got lost.” Not that city boy Tim had seemed like much of a hiker to her.

  “I hadn’t the time to hunt for him earlier, what with the meeting at the station this mornin’. I thought I’d stop by and see if he’s here.”

  “I haven’t seen him yet today. How’d the meeting go, if you can tell me?”

  Sean glanced around the room, assessing the crowd, which was made up of Old Billy, chatting volubly to a stranger, and a small group of thirtyish guys near the front window, talking about sports. Apparently he decided it was safe to talk. “We’ve learned a bit more about Aidan Crowley, not all of it good.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “Well, he’s lived in Cork city or thereabouts the last few years. But he’s been all over. We’ve had no luck finding his family, since we don’t know where he came from. Doesn’t seem to have had a fixed address. We don’t know if he was employed. It’s a wonder Niall stumbled on him when he did. Have you seen Niall today?”

  “No, I haven’t. Hold on.” Maura turned to ask Mick, who was swabbing off tables and seeing to the fire. “Do you know if Niall’s gone back to Dublin for good, or if he’s planning to come in today?”

  “He didn’t tell me, no surprise, but the feelin�
�� I had was that he wanted to stay around to see how this thing with Aidan plays out—I think he feels guilty for drawin’ him in.”

  “Do you know where he’s staying?” Maura asked.

  “No. Maybe in Glandore? I didn’t ask, and he didn’t share it with me.”

  Maura turned back to Sean. “Sorry, we don’t know. But I’d agree with Mick—he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move on or to get back home. Do you need to talk to him again?”

  “We’ve had his information, and there’s no cause to look for him. But if he should come back, I’d like a word.”

  “Sure.” Maura pushed the teapot, along with a mug, sugar, and milk, across the bar to Sean. “There you go.”

  “Ta, Maura.” Sean hesitated a moment before going on, “I’d rather hear it from him, of course, but could yeh give me the heart of what it was Tim told yeh last night?”

  Maura wondered if Tim would be offended or angry if she shared his secret. But then, she owed no loyalty to Tim, and she trusted Sean’s discretion. Plus her business was in the middle of the mess. She came out from behind the bar. “Let’s sit over there, where it’s more private.” She gestured toward a table in the far corner, away from the sports fans. Sean picked up his mug of tea and followed her.

  When they were settled Maura said quietly, “Tim says he’s the result of a one-night stand his mother had with a musician, but she never named names, and now she can’t. Tim did some math and some research and decided Aidan was a possibility, so they met out back after the pub closed Saturday night, to talk. Tim said that Aidan denied knowing his mother—well, more like he couldn’t remember those days at all, which isn’t exactly denying it, but he simply didn’t know. I think Tim was hurt—he’d probably gotten his hopes up. But he swears that he left Aidan alive and well, outside the building.”

  “Did yeh believe him?” Sean asked in the same low tone.

  “I think so. He seems like kind of a lost kid—his mother’s gone now, and he wants to figure out who he is. I don’t think he wanted anything like money or a public announcement from Aidan, he just wanted to know.”

  “Which he didn’t get. Did Tim seem angry last night, when you talked to him?”

  “No, more like sad.”

  Sean digested that before saying, “It wouldn’t have taken much to bring on Aidan’s heart attack. Even a threat from a strong young man could have been enough. And maybe Tim panicked after and ran off, so didn’t see where Aidan went. He could have made his way inside, before . . .”

  “I get it,” Maura said quickly. “But I have trouble seeing Tim attacking anyone. Was Aidan’s neck badly bruised?”

  “Are you asking how strong a man it would have taken? Or how long the man kept his hold? Truth is, it wouldn’t have taken much force. We need to find Tim,” Sean said. “Would Rose know anything about his whereabouts?”

  “You can ask her, assuming it’s okay with Jimmy—I don’t know what your rules for interrogating underage kids are around here.”

  Sean looked startled by Maura’s implication, and then he smiled. “It’s just a few questions, Maura. Is she here?”

  “She was in this morning, but may have run home to put something on for Jimmy’s dinner. She’ll be back. I told her we might need her, if people keep coming in.”

  “I’ll look out for her, then.”

  Maura leaned her elbows on the table. “Sean, what happens next? I mean, you guys have talked to everyone who you know was here on Saturday, and any outsiders they could name. You’ve done some digging into Aidan’s past. Have you found out more about him, things you can’t tell me? You said not everything was good in his background. What did you mean by that? And how did you find out? I don’t know how this works here.”

  Sean smiled. “It’s not like those CSI shows they’ve got on the telly, but we can ring one of our pals in Cork and ask for the odd favor now and then—like a file on Aidan Crowley, if there is one. Still, it doesn’t appear in seconds. We’ll have more information today. But the Cork gardaí did admit a file existed fer the man.”

  “What about tracking down other people—the rest of the roving musicians? Can you check credit card use or track mobile phones to see who was here?”

  Sean laughed outright. “Not without a lot of paperwork to justify it all, and by then whoever it was might be in Africa for all we knew. We start with the smallest circle, sort of—who was here, who saw what. If that doesn’t give us the results we want, we make the circle a bit larger. I’ll give you that this is an odd situation, since people seem to have come from all over to hear the music, but we’ve completed what I’d call the first circle. Now we’ll move beyond that. It takes time. I know yer worried about people staying away from Sullivan’s, but we’re doin’ our best.”

  “I know. I wasn’t criticizing. But when I find a body, I take it kind of personally.”

  “So yeh should. And pray that it won’t happen again.”

  Rose walked in and looked startled to see Sean and Maura together in the corner. She made a point of avoiding them after that, trying to seem busy behind the bar.

  Troubled by Rose’s odd behavior, Maura stood up. “Excuse me, Sean—I need to talk to Rose for a minute.” When she reached the bar she leaned across and asked, “What’s going on?”

  The whites of Rose’s eyes flashed as she said innocently, “What do yeh mean?”

  “You know what I mean. I’ll get right to it: do you know where Tim is?”

  Now Rose looked down at the glass in her hand, one she was polishing for the fifth time. “I might. Is he in trouble?”

  “I don’t know. Sean needs to talk to him.”

  “You mean, about his ma and Aidan?”

  “Wait—when did he tell you about that?”

  Rose looked away. “Just now, before I came in. He rang me on my mobile and asked if we could talk face to face.”

  So he was somewhere nearby, Maura realized. “Did he tell you he didn’t hurt Aidan?”

  Now Rose looked her in the eye. “Yes, and I believe him. He’s not like that.”

  It was clear that Rose really did want to believe that, and it more or less matched what Maura thought too, but she wasn’t about to give that away. “So where is he?”

  “He was thinkin’ he might go back to Dublin, but I told him he needed to see this thing here through. Maybe Aidan wasn’t . . . who Tim thought he was, but Tim was here late that night and might have seen or heard somethin’ without knowin’ it. So he didn’t go.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Where is he?” Maura repeated.

  “Will he get in trouble?” Rose shot back.

  “I don’t think so. Look, please tell Sean where to find him, will you? Sean’s a friend. He just wants to ask Tim some questions. Tell Sean where Tim is, or call Tim and tell him to meet Sean here or somewhere else. It’ll be fine, I promise.” Maura hoped she was telling Rose the truth, but she did trust Sean to be fair.

  Rose stared her down for a long moment, then nodded. “All right, then, but I’ll hold yeh to it.” She came out from behind the bar and went over and plunked herself in the chair across from Sean Murphy, who looked startled by her abrupt arrival. Maura debated joining them but decided that this was Rose’s responsibility; let her act like an adult and be treated as one, without Maura hovering. Besides, she had customers to deal with, and the rest of her staff seemed to have vanished for the moment.

  Maura watched from a distance as Sean listened patiently to Rose. He nodded several times and asked a question or two, then both of them stood up and went out the front door, leaving Maura feeling just a bit annoyed at being left out. She sighed. It was not her problem, and she’d hear the results soon enough. In the meantime, the crowd was growing again, with the talk split between the music and the death of Aidan Crowley, and she eavesdropped when she could.

  It was a half hour later when Sean and Rose returned, without Tim. Sean looked a bit grim, and Rose appeared to be fighting tears. She didn’t look at Sean be
fore walking stiffly around the bar and serving the next person who asked.

  Sean followed more slowly and came up to the bar.

  “What happened?” Maura asked quietly.

  “The man wasn’t there, where he told Rose he’d be. Where she’d met with him only an hour or two before.”

  “You think he ran?”

  Sean shook his head. “There were signs of a struggle, and we found his mobile under a shrub.”

  Maura did not like what she was hearing. “Did you check at Ellen’s?”

  “Of course. No one’s seen him. And his vehicle is still parked there.”

  “Where was he supposed to be?”

  “You know the old slate factory, down by the harbor?” Sean asked.

  “I’ve seen it. It’s locked up, isn’t it?”

  “It has been, for years, but that doesn’t mean someone can’t get in. Tim told Rose he went there to think things through. He wasn’t exactly hiding; he only wanted to be alone fer a bit. And he’d left all his gear behind at Ellen’s, so it doesn’t look like he meant to flee.”

  “So the big question is, who found him there?”

  Sean nodded. “Someone who didn’t exactly wish him well.”

  Maura swallowed a couple of words that weren’t appropriate for the setting, no matter how strongly she felt. “What now?”

  “I’ve got to report this to the station as a suspicious disappearance, since he knew that the gardaí want to question him and he’s nowhere to be found. But the circumstances tell me that he didn’t leave of his own choice. So we’ll start a search. Rose, there, she’s upset, no doubt. It seems she really took to the young man.”

  “But she’s not in any trouble, is she? I mean, she didn’t know where he was, earlier.”

  “Until he called her on his mobile and told her.”

  Not good. “But she tried to get him to come here and talk to you.”

  “So she says, but we have only her word for that. Maybe the two of them are conspiring to get Tim away from here. I’m sorry, Maura, I’ve got to go. Keep an eye on Rose.” Sean stood up, but as he reached the door, a nondescript car pulled up outside Sullivan’s. The passenger door opened, and Tim Reilly fell—or was pushed—out. He’d barely hit the pavement when the car sped away toward the east and Tim scrambled to his feet and watched the car disappear.