An Early Wake

by Sheila Connolly

  The rest of the day held no surprises.

  Until closing.

  Chapter 26

  It had been a long day, and Maura was tired, not so much from the serving and smiling part but because under it all she was tense. Whatever lay behind Aidan’s death, it wasn’t over yet, but there seemed to be little she could do about it except jump every time someone came in the door, which was stupid but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Until now she had been comfortable in the shabby old building, and few people had given her any trouble. Then Tim had arrived and brought up the music and he had talked to Old Billy, going back to the days when Mick Sullivan had been in charge of the place and had somehow mysteriously drawn the bands to him in this forsaken corner of Ireland. And that had been all it took to make it happen again, years later: the word went out and the people came.

  Yet with the new crowd, they’d somehow brought in drugs and death. It wasn’t supposed to work like that in Ireland, was it? Certainly not in Leap. Had the world changed that much?

  Mick had stuck pretty close all afternoon, so much so that Jimmy had commented on it. So Maura had had to explain the situation to him. She was pleased that Jimmy’s first reaction was concern for his daughter’s safety, but he hadn’t been happy with Maura’s solution, which was merely to send Tim and Rose elsewhere until Sean told her she didn’t have to worry. Now it was getting late and she hadn’t heard from Sean yet.

  The day had passed in fits and starts. The afternoon had been quiet, followed by a rush after five, then a lull for the dinner hour, then another rush after. No sign of any surly thugs looking for their missing cash. Maybe the man from Cork had decided to cut his losses and go home. After all, there must be bigger money to be made in Cork; was it really worth wasting time chasing around small villages? Or was it the principle of the thing? Maura had grown up with the whispered stories about Whitey Bulger and his associates, how they’d killed people who were “inconvenient” or had said something they didn’t like.

  Billy seemed to have caught her mood. When she swung by his table to pick up an empty glass, he looked up at her with less than his usual good humor. “Yer not yerself today, Maura,” he said, unsmiling. “Is there a problem?”

  She glanced quickly around, then dropped into the chair next to him. “I don’t know, really. Sean figured out who went after Aidan the other night, but nobody knows where to find him. Or maybe he’s already locked up and I’m worrying about nothing.”

  “You’ve heard no more from the gardaí, eh? So yer worried the man’ll be back to finish up his business?”

  “I guess I am. Am I being silly?”

  “I’d rather see you worry and take a bit of care than not,” Billy said. “But there’s been no trouble today, I take it?”

  “None. All business as usual, or maybe a bit better than usual, at the moment. I let Rose go with Tim to have dinner in Skibbereen, just in case. I thought they might be safer there.”

  “Ah, Maura.” Billy shook his head. “What’s the world come to? Cork may not be so far away by the road, but it used to be it was a different universe. I hate to see it spilling over onto our little village here.”

  “I’d be sorry too, especially if I had any part in bringing that here.”

  Billy shrugged. “Yer not in charge of the world, not even this corner of it. It would have come, one way or the other.”

  That was small comfort to Maura.

  None of the musicians, or at least not the ones she was beginning to recognize, had put in an appearance. She had no idea what half of their names were, much less whether they lived near or far. She was more surprised that she hadn’t seen anything of Niall. At least he’d had the courtesy to ask if he could use her place to honor Aidan on Saturday. If he’d changed his mind and decided not to go to the trouble, it would only be polite that he tell her that as well. Then again, could be Niall was operating on Irish time, which moved at a different pace than in Boston, and she should just stop worrying about it.

  Niall seemed like a nice man. Almost old-fashioned. Not at all what she would have expected from someone who’d been “big,” even if it was a while ago. How would Bono act if he stopped in for a quick pint? Would he have an entourage? A bodyguard or two? Or would he just show up, like a normal person?

  Finally eleven thirty arrived, time for closing. Billy had gone home long before—he tired easily in the evening, and he’d had a busy few days. Maura shooed out the stragglers, although that involved a conversation with each of them. She hated to be a nag, but she was supposed to be following the local laws, and she didn’t want to push the regulations too far, so she could give Sean an honest answer if he asked. She hadn’t heard from him all day; was that good or bad?

  “Jimmy, you should go see if Rose got home safely,” Maura said.

  “I’ve been calling her each half hour, and she’s there. That young man went back to Keohanes’ a while back, or so she tells me.”

  “I’m sure she’s telling you the truth. But go on home anyway.”

  “I’ll do that. See yeh tomorrow, Maura.”

  “I’ll check the back for yeh, Maura,” Mick volunteered. He disappeared into the back room, and now that it was quiet, she could hear his steps on the stairs leading to the balcony, then around it as he made the circuit, checking that the locks were turned. Still the same useless locks, but they had to try, didn’t they? He came down and turned off the lights and pulled the doors shut as he left the room. “Oh, and one of the tap lines needs cleanin’. I might as well see to it now.”

  It was close to midnight. “Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “Now’s fine,” Mick said curtly, and went down the stairs to the dark basement. Maura pushed the cellar door closed—more than once she’d almost taken a tumble down the stairs, since there wasn’t much room behind the bar and it was dark. And Jimmy had had that accident on the old stairs, not long after she’d arrived, and broken his arm . . .

  She turned the key to lock the front door and made a final sweep of the room, mopping the rings off the tables with a damp cloth, and was returning to the bar with the empty glasses when there was a rapping at the door. “Sorry, we’re closed,” she called out without looking.

  The rapping became a pounding, and Maura stiffened, then turned to see through the glass of the door who it was. She couldn’t say she was surprised that it was Donal Maguire: the very man Sean was looking for, the drug dealer from Cork. Or his twin brother. She froze for a moment, wondering how well the darkness inside concealed her expression. The man didn’t pound again, just stared at her, waiting.

  Now what? Mick was downstairs: did the guy at the door know that? If she waited too much longer, the guy would probably just break the glass and let himself in. Her phone was in her bag, and she couldn’t reach it in time to do any good. But he didn’t know she knew what she knew, right? She went over to the door and yelled through it, “It’s past closing.”

  “Let me in,” the man said, without changing expression.

  “We’re closed,” Maura said again. That was the way a normal person would act, wasn’t it?

  “I’m not leaving ’til we talk.”

  Maura considered her options. One: wait him out, hoping he’d go away. That didn’t seem to be working. Two: shriek like a banshee, which she hoped would bring Mick running—she knew that there was no one else awake in Leap who would hear her this late, particularly through the thick stone walls of the pub. Mick could handle this guy, couldn’t he? She’d never seen him confront anyone physically, because it had never been necessary. The guy at the door wasn’t much bigger than Sean, but he looked like he’d fight dirty. Of course, she’d never seen Sean do more than wrestle handcuffs on to someone, so she wasn’t sure how he’d fare in a fight either. Three: walk calmly over to her bag, find her phone, and hit 999 to bring the gardaí running. Which would give the man plenty of time to smash his way in and stomp on her phone. Four: paste on a silly smile, open the door, and pretend she knew noth
ing about anything, like his missing cash—all the while hoping Mick was listening and could put two and two together and get help.

  Maybe three seconds had passed, and Maura was still standing like a lump, staring at the man who didn’t know she knew who he was. Maybe she really could convince him that she was clueless. She took a breath and strode over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.

  “Are you in trouble? Hurt? Car problems?” she asked brightly.

  He shouldered her aside and walked into the pub. Maura quietly closed the door and turned to face him. “Excuse me? What did you want?” she said, sounding like a feebleminded idiot to herself.

  “Don’t play the fool, Maura Donovan. You know what I’m after.”

  So much for option four. There was no use in stalling. “I don’t have it,” she said.

  “Who does, then?”

  “The guards. We found it a couple of days ago.”

  The man let loose a string of curses, half of which Maura had never heard and didn’t want to guess at. He was not a happy camper. She almost felt sorry for the guy, who was clearly out of his element here in the sticks. In her mind Maura turned over several things she could say, but none of them promised a good ending.

  She hadn’t made a decision when she heard Mick coming up the stairs. He paused at the top to take in the scene; Maura didn’t dare turn to look at him.

  “We’re closed, mister,” he said, giving nothing away.

  “So the lady said,” the man replied. “I guess I’d best be on my way.”

  Maura felt a wash of relief: was he really giving up that easily? But another part of her was getting mad. What gave him the right to walk in here and kill Aidan, whether or not he meant to? Over money? Was that all Aidan’s life was worth? She felt Mick come up behind her and lay a hand on her elbow. Could he tell what she was thinking?

  And then they were all distracted by something else. Maura looked past the man through the window to see Old Billy weaving along the sidewalk. He reached the door and found it open, and glee washed over his face as he stepped in. “Ah, yer still open, me darlin’. Could I trouble you fer a pint? I know it’s late, but an old man gets thirsty.”

  Billy knows the closing hours better than I do, Maura thought. What did he think he was doing here? “Sorry, Billy, it’s after hours.”

  Billy staggered his way into the room, bumping into Donal, who shoved him away. Billy kept his balance, then looked at the man with hurt in his eyes. “Ah, surely there’s no reason to push around an old man? All I’m after is a pint.” He wobbled closer to Donal again.

  Donal looked disgusted and seemed to decide that his best option was to leave. He turned to head for the door, still open, but somehow Billy’s cane became entangled between his legs and he fell heavily to the floor. The stream of curses began again, and he struggled to get back to his feet. But Billy’s cane kept getting in the way, and Maura was beginning to suspect that Billy wasn’t anywhere near as drunk as he made out. If he was drunk at all. Her thought was confirmed when Billy glanced at her briefly—and winked.

  “Mick Nolan, yeh might give me a hand here, if you don’t mind,” he said. Mick moved quickly to grab Donal before he could get up again, and then Old Billy sat on his back. “I’ve already called the gardaí,” Billy said.

  Mick grinned at him. “So have I.”

  Donal on the floor issued a few more interesting curses, but he couldn’t escape the two men.

  “I’m guessin’ this is our man from Cork city?” Billy asked Maura.

  “So it seems. He should have left while he still could. I can’t believe the two of you!” She could hear the distinctive sound of the garda siren coming from the west, and it was no more than two minutes later that not one but two cars pulled up in front of Sullivan’s.

  Sean came in first. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve captured Donal Maguire for you,” Maura said, feeling giddy now that the crisis had passed. “You can have him now.”

  Sean looked down at the man under Billy. “Mr. Maguire, I’ll have to ask you to accompany us to the station in Skibbereen. We have a few questions for you.”

  “Then get this old fool off me,” Donal Maguire spat out from the floor.

  Sean suppressed a smile. “Billy, I think we can handle it from here.”

  Mick held out a hand and helped Billy to his feet, and the garda from the second car, a man Maura didn’t recognize, grabbed Donal by the elbow. Donal Maguire seemed to have lost the will to fight and allowed himself to be maneuvered into the waiting car.

  Sean said, “Thanks fer the call, Billy. And yours as well, Mick. We were ready to find a crime wave, what with all of you ringing us up. So was it only the one man?”

  “Wasn’t that enough?” Maura demanded.

  “Sure, if it turns out that he’s the attacker, which all things point to. Well done, the lot of you. He didn’t happen to say anything about Aidan Crowley, now, did he?”

  “No, he did not, and we didn’t ask him either,” Maura retorted. “All we did was catch him—there wasn’t much time for conversation. Now you can take over.”

  “I’ll do that.” Sean turned to leave, but Maura followed him out the door.

  “Why were you at the station so late?” she asked.

  He looked down at her. “I thought things might come to a head—if the man was goin’ to make a move on the place, it would be tonight. I didn’t want you to be, well, unprotected tonight. I hadn’t counted on Old Billy’s assistance.”

  “I have no idea what Billy thought he was doing, but he managed to keep Donal Maguire here until you showed up.”

  “He’s a smart man, even if he plays the fool a bit fer the tourists.”

  “And I’m sure Billy will collect his share of pints with this story! Listen, Sean—thanks for looking out for us. I’ve been worried all day that something like this was going to happen, and you got here fast.”

  “I’m glad it all worked out for the best.” For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something else, but then he decided against it. “I’d better go start processin’ our man from Cork, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Maura. Take care.”

  “Thanks, Sean,” Maura called out to his retreating back. She wasn’t quite sure what she was thanking him for, since Billy and Mick had taken care of the hard stuff. All she’d managed to do was not panic. She had some reason to be proud of that, didn’t she? She’d stood her ground, at least. Defended her place.

  Her place. And the battle, such as it was, had been won with the help of her friends. Something to think about.

  Chapter 27

  When Sean had left, Maura took Billy’s arm. “Do you want that pint now?” she asked with a smile.

  He patted her hand. “Thanks fer the offer, but I’ll wait ’til tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind it if you’d walk me to my door, though.”

  “Of course. Are you all right?” Maura hadn’t even had time to wonder if he’d been injured in the brawl, such as it was. Surely tangling with a thug like Donal Maguire would have taken a toll on a man far younger than eighty.

  “I’m fine, just not as young as I was.”

  Maura called out to Mick, who was busy righting the tables and chairs that had been knocked down in the scuffle. “I’m taking Billy home. I’ll be back.” Mick nodded and went on picking up the furniture that had been overturned.

  Maura kept her pace slow to match Billy’s. The night was completely still, and there were no cars in sight. It was hard to believe they’d just caught a criminal drug dealer and possible killer, yet nothing had changed outside the pub. “Billy, you didn’t just happen to show up tonight, did you? And you weren’t drunk.”

  He slowed his pace even further, to look at her. “You’ve served me every drop I’ve had today, so you’d know I wasn’t. The truth of it is, I was keeping an eye on the front. I figgered the Cork man would have reached the end of his patience, so tonight would be his night to make a move. He woulda done better to go home la
st night. I thought the cane might come in handy. And nobody pays much attention to an old man like me, so I had surprise on my side.”

  Maura had an image of Old Billy, cane at hand, sitting by his front window, waiting up and watching well past his usual bedtime, and she was touched. When they reached his door, Maura said, “Billy, you were wonderful. You caught him completely off guard, and you were even smart enough to call the gardaí first. I can’t thank you enough.”

  He brushed away her compliment. “Ah, a pint or two’ll see me right—I’ll come by tomorrow and claim my reward. And you woulda been fine with Mick on the lookout too. Plus young Sean sittin’ by the phone waiting fer the man to do somethin’ daft.” He paused before opening the door and looked at her again, and this time his expression was more serious. “Maura Donovan, here we look out for our own. Yer one of our own now. Good night to yeh, then.” With that he turned and went into his home, leaving Maura on the doorstep fighting tears.

  In all the time she’d waited on tables or served drinks in Boston, she’d never personally had to break up a fight, and she’d never had to stare down a killer (at least no one she’d known to be a killer, although she’d had a few suspicions). Most of the bars where she’d worked had kept a bouncer on hand for things like that—and there could have been any number of killers who had come and gone without making any trouble. But here in Leap, at Sullivan’s, she had thought she was on her own. Instead, she had just learned that she had Mick and Sean and even Billy backing her up. She was surprised—and moved. It was hard for her to let other people help; she was so used to managing on her own. But this place was different, as she was constantly being reminded. Was she really one of them now? Not the odd outsider from America, who had dropped in from the sky and taken over the pub from under the noses of Jimmy and Mick?