“Nothing, just some notes I made, uh, about the trip.” She scrambled to sweep up the papers. Griff probably wouldn’t understand his name being on her suspect list. Cheryl knew her well and still didn’t understand why Bruce’s was included. She folded the pages twice and stuffed them into her purse. She slid the last sheet out from between his fingers and jammed it into her bag with the others.
After she zipped her purse shut, Griff asked, “Where are your friends?”
“Oh, they’re golfing today.” She shrugged an I-don’t-care shrug, at least she hoped it came off that way.
“What are you planning to do?”
“I don’t know.” Again, this conversation. Darn that Dale for leaving her alone like this.
He tugged a strand of her hair. “I don’t have any errands today. My schedule is wide open. Tell me what sights you’d like to see and I’ll take you.”
“Really?”
“I’d love to.”
“You sure?”
He nodded.
“Well, all right then.” Excitement churned in her stomach. “Cong Village.”
“Where’s that?”
“You haven’t heard of it? It’s where the movie, The Quiet Man, was filmed. Just north of Galway.”
“North of Galway? It’s almost ten o’clock. We’d better get on the road. I can leave now if you can, a mhuirnín.” He rubbed her arm up and down, and the excitement went from her stomach all the way through her.
“Sure. Meet at the car in five minutes.” She headed out the bedroom door, then ran up to her room to swipe on some lipstick and pass a comb through her hair. Dale never called her foreign endearments or made her feel so young and attractive. Well, he wasn’t here and Griff was. And, she now had another day with a handsome man to look forward to. She’d try to slip some more questions in about Alsander and Mairéid, and maybe Sean, too. She returned to the mirror, touched up her mascara, and squirted on a teensy bit of perfume, and then shook herself. Investigating a murder mystery shouldn’t be this romantic. She hurtled back down the stairs.
The dreamy, easy-on-the-eyes Irishman stood by her Ford KA, waiting for her. She took in his windblown, strawberry blond hair, broad shoulders, and tall frame. She handed him her car keys and they both climbed in.
After he jammed his long legs under the steering wheel, he started the engine and asked, “Where’s the side mirror?”
“I lost that on the second day here.”
“There’s probably a story behind that.” He laughed. “I’ll head in the direction of Galway and you can direct me from there.”
She meant to grill him some more, maybe drop in a few questions about himself, but she was captivated by the view out the car window. The growing things, bushes, trees, and grasses, were an emerald green. At times the hedges on either side of the road were so thick and tall they rose high enough to form a leafy canopy curving all the way over the road. They slowed through picturesque villages, where the houses displayed glorious, overflowing window boxes with white, yellow, and red flowers, bountiful planters clustered around doorsteps, cats reclining on benches, and dogs lounging across doorways, none leashed or fenced in. Before long, they skirted a wide bend and rolled into Cong Village.
Jane was thrilled to enter Pat Cohen’s Bar, where several of the movie scenes were filmed and movie memorabilia was showcased. Griff put his arms through the white vest worn by John Wayne in the movie, and it fit over his shoulders, but when Jane tried it on, the heavy garment hung well past her hips.
“It’s amazing to walk on the street where John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara rode the tandem bicycle,” Jane said as they stepped outside.
“I haven’t seen the movie, but I’ve heard of it.” Griff’s smile brightened his face in a way that made her heart light.
“Oh, you have to see it. It’s my favorite. Not very politically correct, though.” She explained the story from the movie, and that after she’d seen it, she always longed to visit Ireland. She twirled about on the empty cobbled road, arms outstretched. When Griff started recording a video of her on his cell, she said, “Don’t take my picture.”
“A rúnsearc, dance for me some more. I want to remember this day forever.”
Her skirt flared out as her feet spun around, since she couldn’t resist his crinkly blue eyes and Irish accent. What woman could? She came to the corner of a whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof. “That’s it. The end of the village. There’s not really much to see here. I’m sorry I made you drive all this way.”
“I enjoy being with you. There’s a nature trail. Would you like to take a walk?” He jerked his thumb in the direction behind them.
“Yes. Let’s go.” Jane raced ahead, pulling him along. They strolled through the yew grove to Cong Abby and tread over the footbridge across the Cong River to enter the cool, thick woodland. They walked near the river for a time, past the monk’s fishing house, and turned into the forest with trees standing tall on either side of the wide path. She took in the rich smell of the damp and decayed leaves from the well-watered, ancient woods.
They came to a fork in the broad, dirt trail. “Which way?” Griff scratched his head.
“There’s no signpost.” Jane gazed down the track on the left. “Should we go that way?”
“Sounds good.” Griff went first, and without much thought Jane followed, but they soon came to another fork—deciding to go right this time—then another fork and another.
“Griff, I think we might be lost.” She stopped to listen for other voices, but didn’t hear any. They seemed to be the lone hikers. “We’ve been on the trail for almost an hour. Should we turn around?”
“Oh, we’ll find the way.”
But after another twenty minutes, they did not appear to be any closer to the end of the trail. They came upon a park bench by the side of the walkway. He pointed to the bench and they sat. “Have you thought of moving to Ireland?” Griff inched closer.
“I hadn’t, no.” She wondered where this was going.
“You should.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her, another one of his exciting kisses. Heart pounding, she pulled back to study his face. He said, “Dale’s left you, you know.”
The back of her throat ached with the truth of it. “I suppose so.”
He held her hand. “You could move to Ireland and live in the castle with me.”
She knifed him in the side with her elbow. “I’ve only known you a few days.”
“Men and women have moved in together in less time than that.” He pitched her a heart-melting smile, but she didn’t toss it back. In all her life, she’d never lived with a man before marriage.
“Not me.”
However, an image of the castle came to her mind, the old ivy creeping up the gray stones, all the way up the castle wall to a tall opening in the rampart. She imagined a princess at the window in a long, flowing dress, waving a billowing, silk scarf in the breeze. She was the princess. And he was the prince, attractive with those blue eyes and that Irish accent, so appealing. She wondered if he ever wore a kilt. No, that was the Scots.
She blinked her tired eyes a couple of times. “I can’t switch my affections from one man to another,” she said, as she made a feeble attempt to snap her fingers, “like that.”
“Too bad.” His hands dropped to his sides, and he slumped down on the bench. “Dale doesn’t know how lucky he is.”
“You’re probably right.” Jane’s eyes were heavy. Griff wasn’t alone in that opinion. Was it only a few days ago she thought Dale was going to propose to her? Well, he didn’t. And Griff was drop-dead gorgeous, Irish, and adventurous. His romancing was complimentary and good for a gal’s ego. She leaned her head in the crook of his arm, a comfortable place. Cozy and snug and warm. “It’s so peaceful here, but these woods are like a maze, Griff,” she murmured as she closed her eyes and reclined against his frame. “Do you mind if we rest here a minute?”
“This is a perfect spot to take a breather.” H
e tightened his arm around her shoulder.
Relaxing for a moment felt good, but before long she found herself plodding onward in a labyrinth of tunnels surrounded by high hedges, so tall all she could see was the light blue sky at the top of the thick, green leaves. Every time the path turned she expected to catch a glimpse of her mysterious companion trotting along in the lead. Sometimes she did see a flash of the back of his jacket or the heel of his shoe as he made a turn in the maze. Couldn’t he wait for her? Where was he? Maybe just around the next bend a few yards ahead. She ran to the curve in the path. She was almost there. Her heart beat fast and her breath became ragged with the effort. A truck’s engine droned from the distance, coming closer and closer, then rumbled past.
Jane jolted awake, gasping for air. “What was that?”
Griff laughed. “Look behind us through the trees. There’s a road there. Let’s cut through and we can follow the lane back to the village.”
“Oh, goodness.” She pressed her hand to her heart as she stood. “I think I fell asleep.”
“You did, but not for long.” Griff cut the path with Jane following in his wake.
“In Colorado, hikers are warned never to get off the path. But, I swear, the trails are signposted so much better there than here.”
“Watch your footing.” He reached back for her hand and she took his.
She stooped under a tall branch, then stepped after Griff onto the pavement. “Which direction?”
He looked to the right and the left, then pointed right. “This way.” They trudged along on the side of the lane as a few cars sailed past them, and after only ten minutes, spotted Cong Village ahead. Once they reclaimed the car from the parking lot, they bowled along the roads bordered by low walls made out of stones stacked one on top of the other. Finally, the car rolled to a stop in the castle parking lot, and he handed her the keys.
The lot was empty except for her Ford KA and a black compact with a dent in the hood, the shiny metal exposed where something had hit it, something pointed, perhaps her side-view mirror.
Chapter 13
“Whose car is this?” Jane rapped her knuckle with a reverberating racket on the hood of the dented compact.
“Mairéid’s.” He curled his lip as if the very name of his cousin left a bad taste there.
She opened her eyes wide before narrowing them down to a squint. “Griff, about losing my mirror…”
“I knew there was a story there. Tell me.”
“It was the day we drove to Galway.” Her thoughts were churning.
“Was that before Dale left?” He bent close to peer at the wires sticking out of the hole where the mirror had been.
“Yes.”
“Galway’s a grand town. I wish we’d had more time so we could’ve stopped there. Maybe we can fit in a quick drive up in the next day or two.”
She smoothed down her hair. “That’d be nice. About the day I drove there—”
The double front door hinged open causing Griff and Jane to twist around. Mairéid strode out. “Watcha doin’?”
“Nothing.” Jane jumped in the air a little bit.
“The guards are back. They have more questions.” She had on a black look, as she turned on her heels and stormed through the double doors.
Jane clutched Griff’s arm. “The police are back?”
“I should’ve guessed Mairéid would cause all this trouble. If it wasn’t for her, I’m sure the police would not be bothering us anymore.” He had on a grim expression when he took Jane by her elbow to steer her inside.
Fiona was hunched over a table in the dining room, twisting a white kitchen towel around and around in her fingers, while working vigorously on a wad of pink, sweet smelling gum. She was also glaring at Sean Smithwicket sitting with Mairéid. Jane twitched her head in Sean’s direction and raised her eyebrows, but Griff only shrugged as he took a seat.
The police explained they would interrogate them individually. After taking Fiona away for questioning, then Mairéid, the investigator called for Jane. Her stomach bounced when she heard her name. She exchanged a long glance with Griff before the guard escorted her once again to the tiny library near the reception desk. The yellow light from the lamp hit her face, as Chief Superintendent Nolan loomed over her chair with a thick folder tucked under his arm.
“You were in Alsander O’Doherty’s room the night before he was killed?”
Her heart leapt to her throat, since she hadn’t told anyone. “Yes, but he was asleep when I left.”
The Chief smirked, or it might have been a leer.
Her cheeks burned as she hurried to explain, “I went into his room by accident, saw him asleep in the bed, and left right away.”
“You asked Fiona for the key to his room.”
“I thought I was asking for the Ladners’ key.”
“Why did you want theirs?”
She took deep, even breaths and massaged a finger into her temple. “We play tricks on each other. Someone in the dinner club started it and everyone keeps it going. I left a fake spider under Cheryl’s pillow and a stuffed mouse under the sink.” Was the mouse still there? Neither of the Breewoods mentioned it. Jane’s eyes searched Nolan’s face but he wasn’t giving anything away. “The mouse might still be under the sink if you check. And Cheryl will tell you about the spider. She found it.”
“Fiona said you returned the Breewoods’ key, but not Mr. O’Doherty’s key.” He opened his folder and appeared to be verifying the statement.
“I did the next morning. I left it on the front desk.”
The chief ogled her once more as she squirmed in her chair. The police were so wrong. Of all people to accuse of a liaison…casual sex was against her beliefs.
“Did you touch any of the medications by his bed?”
Jane enunciated her words slowly. “I wasn’t near his bed. And besides, they were in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, weren’t they?”
The Chief nodded as if she’d confirmed something he’d already decided. “Did you touch them in the medicine cabinet?”
She gave him a startled glance. “No. You took them away.”
He sighed a heavy, exasperated sigh and folded his arms. “Let’s start over. When were you in his bathroom?”
Her throat was scratchy and dry and the light was bright in her eyes. “Earlier today, let’s see, between 9:30 and 10:00 this morning, I went in and looked around. That’s when I opened the cabinet and saw the circles on the shelf where the medicine bottles had been.” She crossed her legs and bobbed one foot up and down. “Why are you asking about Alsander’s pills?”
He ignored her question. “Think back to the night before Alsander was killed. You were in his room. What was on his bedside table?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Think about it. Try to remember.”
Jane closed her eyes. “I got the key from Fiona. I unlocked the door. I went into his room.” She imagined the door swinging open and stepping into the dark. But it wasn’t totally dark. There was moonlight shining in through the window. Someone was sleeping in the bed, snoring, next to a table. “There was a pair of glasses. A bottle of pills. A glass of water.”
“Was the lid on the bottle?”
“Probably. I would say, yes.” Jane squeezed her forehead between her finger and thumb. “There was only a little bit of water in the glass.”
He nodded in agreement, as if she’d gotten the right answer. “Where are the rest of the people in your group?”
“They’re golfing, and they were going out to dinner afterward. They should be back soon.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I don’t golf. So I spent the day with Griff.” Her face flushed warmer as Nolan eyeballed her. He must be thinking she had first the uncle and now the nephew. He was probably used to uncovering such secrets and would be quick to think Jane was hiding something naughty. How embarrassing. She wished the earth would swallow her up. “Tell me why you’re asking
about Alsander’s pills.”
He seemed to be considering his response, then he seemed to come to a decision. “Someone slipped him amphetamine hydrochloride. The tablets were mixed in with his prescription in the bottle near his bed. Someone gave him those amphetamine tablets, which ultimately led to his condition and death.”
“What in the world?” Her jaw dropped open, then she froze and heard her blood pounding in her ears. That was why he questioned her in detail about the bottle of pills on the bedside table. This was a game changer. “That’s a bad drug, isn’t it? Amphetamines? Don’t people smoke that? Or shoot it?”
“It was in tablet form. Amphetamines can be swallowed in a tablet, or snorted, or injected,” Nolan explained.
“It was mixed in with his prescription?” She put a hand over her eyes, trying to get her head around it. “Couldn’t Alsander tell the difference?”
“The tablets have a similar appearance—”
“Was it a mistake if the pills looked alike?” Jane’s words reached a high note, hopeful.
Nolan curled his lips. “Don’t you think we thought of that?”
Actually, Jane thought they might not have. “You said someone slipped him the drug. But, what if he got the amphetamine himself? Maybe he was an addict and hid the drugs with his pills.”
“Griffin, Mairéid, the doctor…they all said Alsander O’Doherty hated drugs, didn’t even want to take medication when he was ill, and would never have taken a narcotic.” He gave her a belittling shake of the head, as if she were a moron, in addition to being a loose woman.
She would not be intimidated. “But he did take a prescription.”
“Only recently, one prescribed by his new doctor.”
“Did the drug kill him, not the choke hold?” Maybe this was the simple answer to everything that had happened.
“He died from respiratory arrest, complicated by the excited delirium condition and the use of amphetamines. We’re now calling this a homicide.”
So, not a simple solution, but a perplexing puzzle. She was more confused than ever. Yet, she’d had a feeling it was homicide all along. Her suspicions were validated. “Did the amphetamine hydro-whatever-it-was affect his breathing?” She chewed on the inside of one cheek.
A Stewed Observation Page 13