She contemplated the display of a dozen rings, wondering which one he meant. Was he pointing to the sparkling diamond solitaire?
“Hey, you two.” Cheryl and Bruce had caught up with them. Bruce was a little out of breath. “When we got back to the castle, the police were there. They want to talk to everyone again.”
“What for?” Jane gripped Dale’s arm, wondering if her friends would need to invoke their pact, remembering their hands clasped together in a pledge. Would they need an attorney for legal advice after all?
“We don’t know, yet.” Cheryl blew out her cheeks, as if she, too, was worried about what was going to happen next.
Dale and Jane traded glances. Her heart raced as they hurried behind the Breewoods up the street to the castle. The guards, stationed at the door, told them to join the others in the dining hall.
Chapter 4
Griffin’s face appeared relaxed, but his crossed arms and hunched, tense shoulders contradicted his calm features. “This is the Chief Superintendent of the Gardaí. He has news.” Griffin dipped his head in the direction of a man with epaulettes on the shoulders of his blue uniform.
The Superintendent said in a deep voice, “My name’s John Nolan. I’d like you to know the Chief Medical Officer has given us his final conclusion as to the cause of Mr. O’Doherty’s death.” His gaze lingered on their faces, and they all seemed to hold their breath. “It’s unusual. The doctor called it, ‘excited delirium.’ As he explained, it’s a psychotic condition.”
The friends sent back puzzled expressions.
“This illness caused his death, then? Can you elaborate?” Griffin’s face didn’t give anything away. He didn’t seem as upset as Jane, herself, would have been.
“Excited delirium can lead to a fatal condition. In this case, Mr. O’Doherty died from respiratory failure. The Chief Medical Officer’s cause of death was,” Nolan consulted his notes, “ ‘mechanical asphyxia during a physical restraint leading to respiratory arrest, with the underlying element of excited delirium.’ ”
“What does that mean? What exactly happened to him?” Jane sat up straight.
“Excited delirium is an extremely agitated state. People in this condition are often restrained, and sometimes they die in the process. It’s rare, but there is precedent.”
“Restrained, like in a choke hold?” Cheryl’s face was pale.
“That’s correct.”
None of them said anything for a moment. Bruce slumped back in his chair. “Nobody is going to be charged with his death, then?”
The Chief Superintendent folded his arms across his chest. “No one will be charged unless new facts are uncovered.”
Griffin half rose from his chair. “Is there anything else you need?”
“We’re done for the moment.” The Chief thanked them for their time, then reversed in the opposite direction and proceeded down the hall. The other two officers followed behind, and Griffin chased after them.
Bruce let out a long breath and started to say, “Well—” when Griffin entered back into the room.
“I’m shocked, but a little relieved to know the answer.” The Irishman’s gaze zoomed from face to face. “I thought it had to be something like that. He died from natural causes. He was old.”
Olivia asked, “Was your uncle mentally ill?”
Jane sucked in her breath. “Olivia, that’s a personal question.” Her friend had been a social worker before taking early retirement. Perhaps she knew something about his mental condition, having worked with the mentally ill.
“After what’s happened, you have a right to ask.” Griffin was silent for a few moments, then drew a hand across his brow. “He had anxiety. I’d hoped his anxiety medication would help calm him down, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything.”
Since Griffin was comfortable talking about it, Jane asked, “What’s ‘excited delirium?’ I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I haven’t either. He was becoming paranoid. And had outbursts of anger, too, but the doctor told me it was the anxiety. I was just about to take him back to the doctor for more tests.” Griffin tapped his forefinger against his chin. “I’ve neglected to call his doctor in all of this. I’ll call him.”
“It still sounds to me like he choked, but that this psychotic condition had something to do with why he died.” Doug tugged on his mustache.
“Well, it’s a good thing there’s an explanation, because if there wasn’t, Jane would try to figure things out and investigate clues. You know how she loves to solve a mystery.” Olivia twitched her head in Jane’s direction.
Griffin’s eyes took her in. “Is that so?”
“My friend is exaggerating. I’ve helped in a few police investigations, that’s all.” Jane scrunched her forehead. She hesitated, but only briefly, before extracting her spiral notepad and a pen from her purse. Olivia snickered in the background, but not paying much attention to the others, Jane added to her notes the words, excited delirium, with a question mark. When she looked up, Griffin’s icy blue eyes were aimed on her notepad. She set her pen down across the page and leaned forward. “I don’t think I told you how sorry I am for your loss.”
“Thanks so much. I’ve been absolutely gutted.” He mashed his knuckles against his lips and blew a long breath out through his nose. “I feel bad this happened during your holiday. I’m going to comp all your rooms. Your visit will be without charge.”
“For the whole ten days? Please don’t feel you have to do that. This wasn’t your fault.” Cheryl jumped, like someone kicked her under the table. She reached down to rub her ankle and fired a look that could kill at her husband.
A voice rang out from the doorway. “Hello, Griff.” The tall woman, the one with the dark hair and sculptured eyebrows, dropped an overnight bag to the floor.
All their heads turned from the woman to Griffin and back to the woman. Griffin said, “Everyone, this is Mairéid. My cousin. Some of you met already.”
Mairéid’s hands perched on her slim hips, and her black, flowing skirt swirled around her ankles. “Well, now that Da’s dead, what are ya’ goin’ to do?” The last words came out slow and clipped. She didn’t seem to care that hotel guests were in the room listening.
“Stay right here and run the B&B, just like always.” Glowering, Griffin stood up to face her. Waves of hostility flowed out and rolled across the dining hall. Jane took a deep breath in.
Mairéid’s nostrils flared. “We’ll see about that now that I’m in charge.”
Bruce darted out of his chair. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mairéid. But we were just on our way out. Right, Cheryl?”
“Right.” Cheryl hopped up, and the pair sidestepped around the new arrival. Olivia and Doug launched across the room after them, but Dale and Jane couldn’t escape so easily sitting in the middle of the crossfire.
“Who says you’re in charge?” Griffin’s blue eyes were cold and hard.
Dale and Jane crouched low, ducking like a couple leaving a crowded movie theater. “In here.” Dale thrust her through the door to the kitchen. They let it fall shut behind them.
“Whew. A family argument, sounds like.” Jane made a face. “Death can bring out the worst in people.” Sensing someone else in the room, she looked over her shoulder. A young lady was standing at the sink with a white cloth tied around her waist and a white scarf wound around her head. Escaping out from under the scarf, dirty blonde dreadlocks reached down her back. Pierced rings adorned her nose and eyebrows.
“Can I help you?” Recognition flashed in Fiona’s eyes. “You’re with the dinner club group.”
Jane said, “Yes. But I thought you were the receptionist.”
“I cook a few nights o’ week, too.” The young receptionist-cum-cook brandished a wooden spoon in their direction. “Do you need sometink?”
“No, no, we’re just exploring the castle.” Jane’s gaze roved over the kitchen. Two enormous saucepans warmed on the burners of an immense gas stove whi
le the smell of cooked cabbage permeated the kitchen. Clean and shiny, copper-bottomed, aluminum pots and pans hung from stainless steel beams over a stainless steel counter, dominating the middle of the industrial-sized kitchen. A walk-in cooler emitted a low hum near an exterior door with a red-lettered exit sign above the frame.
“That’s Colcannon. What we’re havin’ for dinner.” Fiona pointed the spoon toward the simmering saucepans.
Dale lifted the edge of a cloth covering loaves of warm bread, and a yeasty smell wafted up. “I see there’s more soda bread, too.”
“The bread comes from the bakery across the street.” The cook turned toward the stove and mumbled, “So, Mairéid’s causing trouble, is she?”
Dale answered, “You could say that.”
Fiona swung around with lowered eyebrows and a stormy expression. “Those two cousins fight all the time. One o’ these days they’re goin’ ta’ kill each other. That’s wha’ prob’ly happened. They were goin’ at it, and Alsander got in the way…” Her words bubbled out, about to boil over along with the soup.
Jane gave Dale a sideways look and he threw the same back at her. Fiona had made a weighty accusation, but the young lady knew the cousins better than either of them did. Jane slid onto a counter stool. This was getting even more interesting.
Fiona placed her back to them once more to plug in the electric tea kettle. With a feeble attempt to put on a helpful front, she asked, “Would you like an tae?”
Confused, Jane gave her head a slight shake. “A what?”
“Tea.”
Jane was uncertain what to do next. “Sure. Can I help?”
“You can bring the cups over.” Fiona gestured with a hand flap toward a stack of teacups on the drain board.
Dale retrieved the cups as Fiona set containers of tea in front of them. Jane walked her fingers through the packets while studying the young lady. Only her fingers moved as she held the rest of her body still.
The cabbage-y Colcannon splashed over on the stove, sizzling on the hot burners.
The teakettle whistle pierced the air, shooting steam out the spout.
Then Cheryl banged the door open, bursting in.
Jane jumped, as her friend said, “There you are. Griffin told us you might be in the kitchen.” Cheryl said to the cook, “The dinner crowd’s arrived, and the dining room’s full. Are all these people staying here?”
Fiona shook her head as she unplugged the kettle and moved the soup off the burner. “They are not. Breakfast is for staying guests only, but we’re open to the public for dinner. The gawkers are here because of Alsander’s death and Mairéid being in town.”
Jane hopped off the stool. “I just remembered I left my purse on the table in there. I’d better go find it.” She shoved the tea bags back into the container, then the three friends hurried out of the kitchen and into the dining hall.
Jane walked the length of the tables while Fiona passed out bowls of soup, but her handbag was nowhere to be found. Passing by Mairéid, she overheard the stout man—the one with Mairéid when Alsander died, the one with the thick, sandy-colored hair and pleasant round face—saying, “I told Fiona. She’s in denial, but she’ll accept it eventually.”
His words, sounding familiar, caused her to listen. Were their voices the ones she’d heard in the graveyard when she thought Dale was going to propose? Mairéid shot her the kind of look that could cause the cabbage to sour, so she bent her head and moved on. It did appear as if she was eavesdropping.
Her friends were holding a spot for her at the far table. A bottle of wine was parked in the center and glasses were at each place. Doug held another bottle in his hand, about to pour.
“None for me.” Jane flattened her hand over the top of her glass. “I’ve still got jet lag and I don’t need alcohol.” Doug made a toast to their trip, and Jane clinked her water glass against the others’ wine goblets. She asked Olivia, “Have you seen my purse? It’s a little, black shoulder bag.”
Olivia sank her spoon into her bowl of Colcannon. “I know the one. The fake leather?”
“Yup. Have you seen it?”
“No.”
“Shoot. I wonder if someone made off with it. I only had a few euros in it, but still. Luckily my passport’s in my suitcase.” Jane tasted the soup made with mashed potatoes and kale, the potatoes neutralizing the strong taste of the cabbage.
“You can get another cheap bag while we’re out tomorrow.”
Jane chuckled, trying to laugh off Olivia’s remark, but she couldn’t overlook Mairéid at the other end of the long table, holding court with a group who appeared to be locals casting covert glances around the room. The stout man rubbed Mairéid’s back, apparently giving her comfort. Griffin hustled through the door from the kitchen and handed more bowls around. He caught Jane’s eye and flashed a business-as-usual smile, like nothing was wrong, like someone, his uncle, hadn’t just died in the other room.
With voices lowered, as if tattling, Jane repeated Fiona’s words to the others. She scooted in closer and leaned over the top of the table. “Fiona might have been acting overly dramatic, but do you think there’s anything to what she said about the cousins?”
“Oh, dear. Knowing Jane, she’s going to investigate after all,” Olivia said with a gleam in her eye, just as Griffin reached in to refill their wine glasses.
Chapter 5
Bounding out of her bedroom door the next morning, Jane ran into Mairéid in the hall, almost knocking her over. They both steadied themselves.
Jane said, “Oops, sorry. Pardon me. And I’m sorry for your loss, too.”
Mairéid held her shoulders stiffly. “Thank you.” Was she miffed at Jane’s clumsiness or something else?
Not knowing how to get away fast, Jane searched her mind for other words of comfort. “I’ve been touched by death myself, and I’ve felt the pain. I’m sure you and your cousin are in shock about all of this.”
Mairéid flared up even further, copping an attitude. “Griff? Him?” There was no mistaking the surly and hostile vibes this time.
Jane reared back and stammered. “He seemed concerned to me. He was going to take your dad to the doctor.”
“Doctor! Don’t get me started.” Mairéid shoved the small handbag she’d been holding into Jane’s hands. “This your purse?”
“Yes. Where’d you find it?” Jane tore her gaze away from the woman and opened the bag to check inside.
Olivia’s and Cheryl’s voices echoed in the stairwell as they scaled the steps. Halting on the top tread, Olivia said, “Jane, you need to bring a raincoat and umbrella.”
Cheryl added, “We’re leaving in a few minutes.”
“Please, don’t let me keep you,” Mairéid said over her shoulder while hurrying down the curved staircase.
“What were you two talking about?” Olivia wrinkled her nose.
Jane scrutinized her back as Mairéid went out of sight. “She found my purse.”
“Where was it?”
She bunched her eyebrows together. “Mairéid didn’t say, but she must have found it in the dining room. Let me grab my coat.”
“All right. Meet us out front.”
The two women changed course and galloped back down the stairs, so Jane darted to her room for a raincoat. When she joined the others in the parking lot, the distinct smell of rain was in the air and water pooled on the ground from a previous rain during the night.
Because six adults could not fit inside one of the pint-sized rental cars, they made plans for the three men to ride together in the first car with the women following in the second. The men tossed a coin to decide who would drive and Bruce won. He made a victory sign, throwing the car keys up in the air and catching them again. Jane won the women’s toss, either that or she lost, depending how she looked at it.
Dale put his hand on her car door and started to say, “I’ll miss you—” but his phone rang at the same time. He answered it, then held his hand over the phone and mouthed, “See yo
u in Galway,” before climbing into the back seat of the guys’ rental. Raindrops began to pelt the hood of the car.
Frowning, Jane slammed her car into gear. “I know the way since I’ve been there before,” she explained to Cheryl seated in the front and Olivia crammed into the back. She repeated her brief conversation with Mairéid as the wheels of the car sprayed the puddles against the hedgerows and the windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm, whisking the raindrops away.
“Those two cousins don’t get along at all.” Olivia adjusted her many bracelets in a discordant jangle on her arm.
“Mairéid doesn’t seem to like Griffin very much,” Jane agreed as she turned the wheel to merge into traffic.
“I’m just happy the old man died from natural causes or whatever it was.” Cheryl leaned back against the passenger door to gaze at Jane behind the wheel, but Jane was busy making quick glances in the rearview mirror.
“It’s still mysterious, though, isn’t it?” Olivia’s eyes were shiny and excited, like a rubbernecker at an accident scene. “I’ve never heard of such a weird way to go.”
“You’re right. I’d like to know more about excited delirium…” Jane darted a glance back to the road ahead and once more to the rearview mirror.
Cheryl tapped her shoulder. “You nervous about driving on the left?”
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not it. The car behind us is tailgating really close.”
Cheryl and Olivia craned around to peer out the back window where a black compact was riding their bumper.
An oncoming car whipped by on the right and Jane steered too close to the left. The side mirror smacked into a lamp post with a loud bang. The mirror whisked up into the air, landed on the hood of the black compact, and ricocheted into a hedge. The driver hit his brakes, and the compact careened around in the lane, then straightened out and dropped back.
“That’ll teach him.” Olivia grinned, then covered her mouth and hunched her shoulders up to her ears in silent laughter.
“Should we stop? Exchange insurance?” Jane widened her eyes as she clenched the steering wheel.
A Stewed Observation Page 4