“Don’t look for murder where there isn’t one.” Cheryl nudged her long chestnut bangs off her forehead with the back of her wrist. “I’m determined to ignore the police, anyway, since Bruce said that’s what he’s going to do.”
“It is curious, though.” Jane sliced a tomato into quarters with her fork, causing her body to squiggle side-to-side in her chair. “I’d at least like to know more about how Alsander died.”
Olivia had been arrested the summer before in connection with a murder investigation in Colorado. Jane couldn’t let anything like that happen again. She’d need to make sure none of her friends was blamed for anything this time, too. She had a death to solve, not to mention sights to see. Decision made. She’d weather this through with or without Dale. Well, it looked like it would be without.
Olivia asked, “Do you want me to have a talk with Dale? Or Doug could do it.”
“Talk about what? Clues?”
“No. About staying here with you.”
Her resolve did a nose dive, and the weighed down feeling returned. Jane had a hard time taking in a full breath. “You guys are the best, but I doubt you could change his mind.” She thrust her plate to the side, but the others delved in as usual. Before long, they discarded their napkins and shoved themselves away from the table.
After filing out of the dining room, the group ran into Dale in the entry hall, ready to go. He said, “Can we leave in five minutes?”
Bruce said, “Sure,” but there were several false starts of running back for tote bags and jackets before the friends set out on the road to Dublin.
The other two couples shared one car, and Dale drove the second rental with Jane by his side. On the M50 bypass to the airport, they talked between stretches of silence about Alsander’s death, how he died and what his medical condition meant and if he was on some kind of drug. As they approached the airport, their conversation wound down to nothing, and Jane started to fume again while she waited for him to say something more, like how sorry he was and how much he would miss her. When he didn’t, a slow boil simmered through her blood.
Was Olivia right? Someone should give Dale a good talking-to…about not letting his ex-wife run his life as if they were still married. Not that a wife should ever do that, run her husband’s life, tell him what to do. Jane certainly wouldn’t, although she would like to tell him to get rid of Polly…
Finally, he navigated the car into a space in the car park and turned off the engine. After a silent moment while Jane studied her hands in her lap, she brought up, “Dale, do you really have to go?”
“I don’t know what else I can do,” he said, in a slow, quiet voice without anger or even annoyance. His stoic attitude was irritating. Jane knew that voice, that attitude. His decision was made, but she still had to try.
“You could change your mind and stay.”
“It’s not an option.” He scanned the parking lot through the front windshield.
“Only because you’ve decided it’s not an option. Changing your mind is always an option.”
Dale turned to face her. He drew the back of his hand down her cheek with a gentle stroke. “I’ll make it up to you.”
She pulled back and said under her breath, “Yeah, right. You’ve promised that before and never came through.”
“When?”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Wait. When did I not follow through on a promise?” He withdrew his hand and scrubbed it over his own face.
She jerked the car door open and hopped out, slamming it, then dug her hands into her pockets to stop them shaking. Dale climbed out of his side and gave her a questioning look, but when she didn’t respond, he opened the hatchback. After getting his suitcase out, he pulled her into a hug, but she stiffened, her arms remaining at her sides, her hands still in her pockets.
“You’d better get going.” Her voice was clipped. She blinked back a few tears.
He released her, his face deep in private thought, and checked his watch. “Jane, we’ll talk more when you get home.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’ll call when I land in Denver.”
“You do that.” Jane skirted the front of the car and jumped into the driver’s seat. The keys were in the ignition. She turned the switch on and glanced over her shoulder, but Dale was halfway across the parking lot, his back to her.
She sat with the engine idling as remorse had already started to take hold. Dale was basically a good guy who had trouble setting boundaries with his ex-wife, and he seemed to let his ex take advantage of him.
A sob caught in her throat as she sat still, drumming the steering wheel with her fingers.
There was no time or energy for tears. She’d indulge herself later. Now was the time to stick to the plan, like Cheryl said. Since she’d made arrangements to meet her friends at the Guinness Storehouse, one of the stops on the Dublin Hop-On, Hop-Off Bus Tour, she punched the destination into the GPS system to study the map.
Her phone pinged with a text and her heart skipped. Maybe it was Dale. Maybe he changed his mind after all.
The text was from an unknown international number, though. It read: I’m in Dublin. Just left Uncle’s doctor’s office. Do you want to meet for a pint? Griff
She chewed her lip. He must have gotten her number from the reservation she’d made. He’d probably texted the others separately and wanted to let them all know what the doctor said. That had to be it.
It was still early for alcohol, but what the heck. She could use a drink…so, she texted him back: Sure. The gang is meeting at Guinness and that’s a good place for a pint. Meet there in forty minutes?
She revved the engine and took off.
****
After barreling past the displays on the history of Ireland’s famous beer, Jane climbed the last of the stairs to the Gravity Bar with its three-hundred-sixty degree view of the city. She handed her ticket for a free Guinness to the bartender and waited with the crowd as the draughts were poured. Then she turned from the loud bar and snaked her way through the mass of tourists. Was she the first to arrive from their group? Maybe she should’ve checked out the displays on the floors below instead of hurrying to the rooftop, but, oh, what a view. The admission price wasn’t worth the free pint, but was definitely worth the sight. Too bad Dale wasn’t here to enjoy it with her.
“Jane?”
She whirled around and looked into Griffin’s clear blue eyes. “Hi.”
“So, Dale’s took off, has he?”
“Yes.” She stared past him, but couldn’t see her friends anywhere.
Griffin held her elbow. “It’s jammers in here. Let’s get away from the crowd.” He led her to an empty, round table near the floor-to-ceiling windows. “What do you think of the Guinness?” His eyes danced as he tossed his longish, reddish-blond hair back in a carefree way.
“I prefer wine. You can have mine, because all I want is a taste.”
“We mustn’t waste the black stuff.” He stared deep into her eyes.
Jane’s heart started to beat a little faster. “Um…oh, yeah. I wanted to ask, what did the doctor say?”
“He had to look up excited delirium on his laptop. He said he was gob smacked.” Griffin took a deep pull of his Guinness.
“What’s that mean?”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, momentarily obscuring his expression. “Surprised. So unexpected. Though Dr. Watcherly did say Uncle’s symptoms matched up with the condition, but it’s not easily diagnosed until after the event, such as what happened Monday night.”
“So, this doctor agrees that’s what caused his death?” She made little quote signs in the air with her fingers. “ ‘Excited delirium?’ ”
His head bobbed up and down as he set his glass on the table.
“Did you read the search warrant?” She had to speak up to be heard over the voices in the crowd. He nodded once more, but his attention was all over the room, so she a
sked, “What were the police looking for?”
He took up his glass again for another long drink, then focused on Jane. “Prescriptions and narcotics.”
“Narcotics? Like illegal drugs?”
He gave her a slow, reluctant nod.
She gulped in a breath. An eighty year-old man on narcotics? Sad, but fascinating. “Did the police tell you narcotics were in his tox screen?”
He only shrugged, swiveling one shoulder in Jane’s direction.
“Well, was anything wrong with his medications?”
“The police seem to be digging around, but I don’t think there was.” He rubbed the end of his nose, then moved his finger to scratch his eyebrow, as if the itch had moved upward.
Would he mind terribly if she asked more questions? Might as well try. “Who was that man with Mairéid, you know, the night your uncle died?”
“Sean Smithwicket. I didn’t know he was hanging around Mairéid until lately. He owns a coffee shop a few blocks from the castle.” He sat back, giving her a speculative once-over. “Olivia said you liked to solve mysteries. What did she mean?”
“Only that I’ve been caught up in police investigations before.” Jane gave him a look of innocence, but his blue eyes darkened. Perhaps he thought she was being nosy. Time to give him some reassurance. “You must be terribly upset. You’ll look back on this as one of the hardest times in your life, I know.”
“I haven’t thought of anything else, wondering if I could’ve done something more to help.” His eyes went even darker, but she couldn’t read them.
She pressed her hand over her chest. “I’m sure you did everything you could, Griffin.”
He leaned forward, closing the distance. His voice was low, his breath against her cheek, his lips close enough she could hear him through the noise of the crowd. “You’re probably right, Jane. No one could have prevented it. Let’s forget about it for now.”
“All right.” She angled back. It would be nice to put it out of her mind for the day. She was here, here in Dublin, after all. Death had arrived and Dale had departed, but it was time to enjoy this vacation, regardless. She gave him a shy smile, one she hoped didn’t expose her vulnerability, the feeling she had when she was on her own. “Do you want to go with us on the rest of the city tour? Or have you seen all the tourist spots too many times already?”
“I’d love to go. And call me Griff, please. I’d like it if you would.”
“Okay, Griff. You can give us the real history, not just the tourist spiel. Will you take a picture of me with the Guinness?” She showed him which button on her cellphone, elevated the pint in the air, and made a face. After he handed the phone back, she took a swallow. It smelled yeasty and had a burnt taste to it. Then, she skidded her pint toward him, before shooting more photos out the window.
He washed down the last of his Guinness and shoved his glass away. Grabbing up hers, he said, “Let’s walk around so you can see the entire view of the city.” As she stood, he pressed his hand into the small of her back to steer her to the other side of the bar where she took more photographs. The sun glared through the smudged glass windows, causing her to squint.
She uploaded her pictures onto Facebook. “I promised my sons I would post photos so they’d know what I’m up to.” Griff asked about her family while they stood next to each other in front of the glass. She explained she was a widow and both her sons were married.
“My Mam and Da died young when I was a teenager. I moved in with my uncle, who’d lost his wife himself. I lived with him and my cousin Mairéid until I finished university.”
“I’m sorry about your folks.” Jane was certainly curious about this Irishman. “Were you ever married?”
“I came close to matrimony once, but we didn’t get married.” He sidled in closer and tucked a strand of Jane’s hair behind her ear.
A heat wave flushed her body. “I wonder where my friends are.”
“If they took the bus from Dublin Centre and got off at all the stops, it’ll take some time for them to make their way here.”
Someone bumped her from behind, and Griff steadied her until she caught her balance. She extracted herself as Olivia, with a full pint in her hand, elbowed her way in. “Sorry about that. Well, hello Griffin. What are you doing here?”
“I came over on the M7 express bus this morning. Talked to Uncle’s doctor.”
“Where’s everyone else?” Jane craned her neck to see around Olivia.
“They’re at the bar getting their free pint.” Olivia turned to Griff. “What’d the doctor say?”
He repeated in almost the exact words what he’d told Jane, that it was not something easily diagnosed until after an event and no one could have prevented it. Once the other three joined them, he repeated the same words again. It sounded almost rehearsed.
Bruce adjusted his glasses, then asked, just as Jane had, “Was anything wrong with his medications?”
Griff rubbed his nose, then scratched the back of his head. “Not that I know of.”
“Good.” Bruce’s eyes looked heavenward and he blew out a breath of air.
“See, nothing to worry about.” Doug whacked Bruce on the back, then the men started in on a discussion of stouts and what made Guinness unique. Soon they were laughing and teasing, as usual. Maybe because they had seemed to share the same stress these past few days, or maybe because the shared stress had seemed to disappear with the Irishman’s reassurance, either way, they had accepted Griff into their circle of friendship.
“Jane’s invited me to join you today.” Griff had long since drained his beer and looked ready to head out.
Doug said, “Great idea.” They all looked from Jane to Griff with interest.
“We’re planning to sign up for the Musical Pub Tour tonight.” Cheryl raised her eyebrows as if asking for Griff’s go-ahead.
“No need. I know where the best music is played, off the tourist path, too.” Griff bumped into Jane this time when a stranger jostled into him.
“I’d love, love, love that!” Jane beamed as she righted herself once more. Dale was gone, but she was determined to enjoy herself.
“All right.” Cheryl’s eyes shown with excitement. “What do you suggest we do next?”
Griff peered over the heads of the crowd. “Let’s find a chipper, then go for a pub session.”
“Chipper?” asked Olivia.
“Fish n’ chips.” Griff shot them a grin that held the promise of a good time.
“Are you up for that? So soon after your uncle’s death?” Olivia arched one eyebrow.
Remembering he didn’t want to think about his uncle’s death anymore, Jane speared her friend with a look and shook her head, but Griff said, “I’m up for it.”
The others downed the last of their Guinness, then they descended the walkways to the street below. The two couples had tickets for the Hop-On bus to make their way back to Dublin City Centre where they’d left their rental, so Jane and Griff waited at the bus stop with them. After the tourist bus appeared and their friends embarked, the two trotted over to Jane’s Ford KA.
“Do you want to drive, Griff? I was a nervous wreck coming here from the airport.” Jane handed him the keys.
“This a rental?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not authorized to drive.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Jane tapped on her cell phone. “But there’s an app for that. Give me your driver’s license number.” She entered the information as he rattled off the numbers, then she deposited the phone back into her purse. “I just added you. And I took Dale off.”
“All right then. I’ll take the wheel.” His long arms and legs ate up the space in the dinky driver’s seat. He maneuvered the car through the narrow, old streets, past houses with colorful Georgian doors and ivy-covered fronts, and found a car park in no time.
They waited for Jane’s friends at the Hop-Off stop, then Griffin guided them to a side road off busy Grafton Street, where they ate the best
fish and chips they’d had on the trip yet—hot, flaky, and crisp, dusted with salt and vinegar. Leaving the restaurant behind, they passed street musicians and performers, others selling black umbrellas draped on their arms and bright hats stacked on their heads, and food vendors hawking hot sausages, with a mouth-watering aroma drifting over the crowd. Olivia pulled the other two women into a boutique, and Jane bought her daughters-in-law wool sweaters. Next, the guys spent time in a cigar and whiskey store, while the gals enjoyed a pot of tea in a glamorous hotel.
As the sun started to set, Griff directed them a number of blocks to a pub overlooking the River Liffey. It turned out Griff knew the manager, who ushered them to chairs in front of the miniscule stage. Two men with folk guitars played traditional songs and tunes from the Irish. Many in the audience joined in, and before long, Jane heard Griffin’s deep voice as well. Food appeared at the table—slider types of ham sandwiches. And after a few more pints, Bruce stood up and sang the song, Molly Malone, in his beautiful tenor voice. The friends indulged in buying rounds and slapping backs and laughing out loud as the music played on.
That evening sealed it. The dinner club members had embraced Griff into their group as they always did Jane’s dates. But this wasn’t a date, only a friendly night out, wasn’t it? She gazed at Griff’s profile, and he caught her at it with a look from the corner of his eyes, saying, “Sláinte.” He rested his knee against hers under the table and she eased hers back.
All too soon it was closing time. Jane checked her cell. Eleven-thirty. She fought off a yawn, but lost. “Where’d you park?” she asked her friends.
“Close to the Centre,” Doug said, helping Olivia into her sweater.
“Let’s go.” Griffin led them through the maze of cramped streets still full of pedestrians.
Jane’s head spun with exhaustion, and she had difficulty putting one foot in front of the other. Another yawn almost broke her face in two. “Sorry about that. Still on Mountain Time Zone.”
“Here, put your arm through mine.”
She linked her elbow through Griff’s. He was at least a foot taller, well over six feet in height. It seemed to take forever to cross back through town, as she clung onto his lanky frame and tried to keep up with his long strides, the others following behind. The fresh air, cool and smelling of wet cement and damp leather shoes, didn’t help her drooping eyes like she thought it would.
A Stewed Observation Page 7