The top of the bedside table was cluttered with numerous objects—pens, loose change, scraps of grocery store receipts, a band aid. The drawer opened easily without a sound. It held the jackpot—a bundle of letters from Kate Irwin. The beautiful Kate! Jane stuffed them in her pocket before her conscience could get the better of her.
She hastened down the stairs, but instead of leaving through the reception area, she exited by the outer door leading to the deserted graveyard, then looped around to the front and entered that way. And it’s a good thing she did. At the reception desk, Griffin was talking with none other than Kate herself.
Jane’s heart leapt to her throat as she stopped in the doorway, her guilty fingers reaching into her pocket to clutch the letters.
The young woman was saying, “I sent ya’ a note, but I didn’t hear back.”
Griff had a hard set to his face and his lips were in a tight line. “We’re done here.”
“Aw, darlin’…ya’ have nothin’ for me?” Kate’s fingers twirled her hair in a coquettish way, and his expression softened. The attractive couple fell silent as Jane approached.
She gave them a smile, hoping no culpability showed there, since the letters were burning a hole in her pocket. The letters would have to wait. She didn’t want to risk Griff or anyone else following her to her room, so she said, “I’m off. See you later.”
“When will you be back?” Griff grinned a saucy grin, but Kate shot her a sour-lemon look.
“In a bit. Just going to see Ryan,” she said, reversing out the door. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she caught Griff’s eyes on her back, and Kate’s too, but now Kate had a smug smile on her face. Was that a look of I’ve-got-one-up-on-you? When Mairéid appeared from the dining room to join their stares, Jane snapped her head forward. She bounded down the front steps with her eyes to the ground.
Once she was a few blocks from the chemist shop, she stopped to catch her breath. Her phone pinged with a text message from an unrecognizable number with a Limerick area code, 061. Stay away from Griff! A strange hexagonal emoji with a shamrock followed the text. The emoji looked like a hex. Who had her cellphone number other than Griff? Probably everyone with access to the reservation records and probably everybody else on top of that…She hit the button to dial the number, but no one picked up.
Her heart pounded with guilt from having stolen the letters. The warning text didn’t help her blood pressure, either.
****
“Good morning, Ryan.”
“Good to see you, Jane. What are you up to today?” He punched a key on his computer terminal, which started emitting loud beeps.
“I don’t have plans.”
“Would you like to have elevenses with Una and me and Benjamin?”
“Elevenses? What’s that?” She poked her tongue into the side of her cheek.
“Oh, a mid-morning tea break.”
“Sure. I’d love to.” The welcome feeling of familial belonging washed over her. “What time?”
“Right now’s good.” Ryan grabbed a jacket off the hook and told his assistant he’d return in an hour. He led Jane down the cobblestone street and around the corner, then a few blocks farther.
Una opened the front door of a townhome set in a long row of identical brick homes butted up against each other. The baby was on her hip, and a black and white collie mix was underfoot. “Good mornin’.”
“’Morning. Ryan invited me for tea, or elevenses, I guess.” Jane entered a living room with a well-worn sofa covered with toys and blankets facing a flickering big screen television on mute, and Ryan stepped inside after her. The interior was modern, in spite of being part of a row of old townhouses. An open door to the left lead to an updated bathroom, and the kitchen beyond the living room had full-sized appliances that appeared new.
Ryan said, “I know you always make plenty, Una.”
“I do. Glad you could come, Jane.” His wife smiled, not seeming to mind the unexpected company.
“Can I hold Benjamin?” Jane held out her hands.
Una heaved him into her arms. He was heavier than he appeared, drawing back and observing her with wide eyes. Gripping him tightly as he squirmed and kicked, Jane followed his parents into the kitchen. Una tugged open the oven door, and they breathed in the aroma of baking bread. Benjamin kicked his little feet into her stomach as Jane held onto him.
“Benjie needs to go into his high chair.” Una pointed to the chair pushed up to the table.
After Jane raised him in the air, his mother navigated his dancing feet through the leg openings and plunked his bottom onto the seat. Ryan scrapped a chair out from the table. “I hope you’re hungry. Una makes a great breakfast roll. It’s called a rollóg bhricfeasta.”
“What’s that?”
“A roll filled with a traditional fry.”
That didn’t mean anything to Jane. She helped his wife bring the tea things to the table, and Ryan said grace.
“Thanks, Ryan. I’ve been forgetting about blessing the food.” Jane peeled back one of the rolls and breathed in the hot smell of sausage, bacon, mushrooms, and tomatoes, which threatened to overflow from the soft bread onto her plate. One bite of the steaming concoction made her moan with pleasure and her stomach rumble. “This reminds me a little of the breakfast burritos we eat in Colorado.”
Her cellphone vibrated. Jane checked the caller ID—a call coming from Dublin—which she let go to voice message. Perhaps the person who threatened her earlier was calling to menace her again.
Una looked over the top of her oversized, red glasses at Jane shakily returning her phone to her pocket.
“Everythin’ okay?”
“Yes.” Jane gave a little shiver. “This breakfast roll is delicious.”
“So, Ryan told me Bruce and Cheryl cut their time in Ireland short.”
After Jane explained the police had all but accused Bruce of providing Ryan with illegal drugs, Ryan pounded the table and denounced the guards, with “They haven’t accused me to my face of giving Alsander amphetamines. And they’d better not.”
“Not if they know what’s good for them,” Una agreed in a forceful voice. “Hey, if Bruce is a suspect, why’d they let him leave the country?”
Jane shrugged. “Doubtless there’s an extradition treaty. It’s not as if they can’t get him back. But I can’t believe Bruce is a serious suspect.” She nodded at Ryan. “Or you either.” They all chewed on their breakfast rolls for a few moments, before she asked Una, “Living so close, you must know quite a bit about Alsander. Did he have enemies?”
“I never heard about any enemies.” Una gave her husband an inquiring look and he shook his head as well.
“Hmmm, let’s see.” Jane extracted her spiral notepad and tapped a finger on her page of questions. “Ryan, the day we met, when we toured Limerick and went to King John’s Castle, right afterward I saw you and Mairéid arguing on the street. I’ve been meaning to ask you what that was about.”
At first he looked confused, then his expression cleared. “Oh, yeah. Mairéid asked me about her Da’s prescription. She thinks she knows better than the doctors.”
“Did you know Mairéid worked at a doctor’s office?”
“Oh, sure. That’s why she thought she knew so much, but she doesn’t have medical training. Her job is just checking in the patients.”
“Could she have had access to drugs, like amphetamines?”
His weak chin fell to his chest as he stared fixedly at his plate. “She wouldn’t have. That medical office is on the up and up. Nothing like that coulda’ happened there.”
Jane set her notepad down and picked her breakfast roll back up. “Do you think I could call them?”
“They won’t tell you anything about one of their employees.”
“Griff said her old boyfriend is a doctor.”
“I don’t know anything about him.”
Una’s eyes bulged so much they looked enormous behind her glasses. “Who you should be looki
n’ at is Sean Smithwicket.”
“That’s right. Una knows something about him.” Ryan punched Jane’s arm and made her drop her roll onto her plate. “Tell her, Una.”
“Yes, tell me.” Jane retrieved what was left of her roll.
“He’s done jail time for drugs. He’s a hoodlum. Got a record.”
“What?” Jane felt a great leap of excitement as the roll slipped back out of her hand.
“Selling illegal drugs,” Ryan bellowed.
“Calm down. It’s not as if he’s takin’ business away from you,” Una yelled back. With apparent enjoyment, Benjie kicked his feet and smacked his spoon on the high chair tray.
Jane relaxed into her chair as the husband and wife continued their argument and Benjie continued his racket. So, Sean Smithwicket had an arrest history. Bingo. Motive, means, and opportunity.
“Sean is the drug connection,” Jane said as soon as there was an opening. “Mairéid was getting the amphetamine from him.”
“Well, I didna’ say he sold amphetamines, just tha’ he’s done time for drugs before.” Una leaned away from the table and wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“It’s interesting, though, isn’t it?” Jane gobbled down the rest of her roll, as her hosts had a vociferous discussion on crime in the neighborhood. After everyone was done eating, she helped remove the plates from the table. When Ryan was about to leave to return to the chemist’s shop, Jane thanked them both and then made her own escape from the contentious household.
The brisk, fresh air buffeted her face as she traversed the five or six blocks to the castle.
Standing in front, eyes riveted on the green ivy crawling up the tall walls, was Sean Smithwicket. He seemed to spend more time lately at the castle than at his coffee shop. What was he doing? Assessing his future property? Planning to tear down the ivy, planning to paint and redecorate? He made an about-face, almost colliding into her, apologized, and took off in the other direction.
She blew through the double doors and past the empty reception desk, then ascended the stairs two at a time. After entering her room, she stepped on a piece of paper that had been forced under the door.
Pinching the note between her fingers, she squeezed her eyes shut, and taking a deep breath, she opened them to read the printed paper. I saw you coming out of the tower. What were you doing up there? Leave while you still can.
Chapter 18
Jane tore the note into small pieces as she stomped around the room, muttering a few words she wouldn’t say out loud in public. It had crossed her mind that Kate might’ve wanted to warn her off Griff. Now she leaned toward Mairéid as the culprit, since this last message didn’t seem motivated by jealousy. Even Sean or Fiona could have written it, trying to frighten her away from the investigation. The reception desk was often unmanned, and anyone could sneak in, maybe even all the way into her room. Was that breaking and entering? She’d already shredded the note; too late to call the police. She still had the first note and the text on her phone, but she didn’t want to involve the police, at least not yet.
Someone was spying on her…but no one was going to scare her…she needed to stick to her guns.
Dreading yet another text-hex, Jane bypassed her messages and checked her voice mail. Dr. Watcherly’s was the recent call from the Dublin number. She punched redial, and the doctor himself picked up, saying, “Your message said you wanted information on Alsander O’Doherty. Are you with the gardaí?”
She took a deep, calming breath and dove in. “No. I’m friends with Griffin O’Doherty, good friends. He told me you were Alsander’s physician, and I have a few questions.”
“I’m not sure I can help you.” His accent was more British than Irish.
Trying to put a smile in her voice, she said, “I want to ask about the medication you prescribed. Can you tell me the name of it and what it was for?”
“That’s confidential, but I did give all this information to the gardaí.”
She expected this answer, but tried again. “Alsander had amphetamine in his system, perhaps triggering an episode of excited delirium.”
“I don’t know much about that condition myself.”
“Do you think he was a drug addict?” She shifted her feet, waiting for his answer.
“There were no signs of amphetamine addiction when I saw him last. Mr. O’Doherty hated drugs. Didn’t want to take the prescription I wrote for him, as I understand it. He even talked to me about Griff’s cigar smoking habit. He thought tobacco unacceptable.”
“So someone slipped him the drugs recently…” Her words hung suspended over the line as she waited for his confirmation.
“That’s one theory.” The doctor breathed heavily into the phone. “But the choke hold is what caused Alsander’s death. I understand a guest of the hotel had restrained him.”
Her muscles tightened across her temples as she clenched her teeth. “Did Griff tell you a guest choked him?”
“That’s confidential. I’m sorry.” He seemed to pick and choose what was confidential and what was not. Trying to end on a polite note, Jane thanked him before they disconnected.
The mystery was still so confusing, and she had many questions left unanswered. Someone slipped Alsander the narcotic. The drug made him angry and dangerous, giving someone an excuse to restrain, then choke, him. But, which of the three suspects…no, which of the two…Mairéid or Sean? She trusted Griff, she reminded herself.
She chewed on the end of her pencil…
Maybe Kate’s letters held some answers. She pulled the letters out of her pocket and tossed them on top of the bed. Pacing back and forth, she asked herself if she was really going to do this—was she going to read someone else’s letters? Yes, she was. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Sitting cross-legged on the bedspread, she sorted them into date order—they started two years ago. Perhaps there were other stacks of letters going back further in time, but she wasn’t about to return to Griff’s room to look for them.
She had only begun to read the first few when a soft knock sounded and Griff’s voice, “Jane, are you back?”
With guilty fingers she stuffed the letters into her suitcase. “Yes.” She put on her innocent face and cracked open the door.
“I’ve got a grand idea for this afternoon.” He gave her an intense look.
Jane felt that familiar flutter in her tummy, excitement at spending time with an attractive man. “I can be ready in five minutes.”
He beamed his sexy smile and her stomach did another somersault. “I’ll meet you at the car in a few.”
****
First, Jane tossed a pink windbreaker and a straw fedora with a pink band into the back of the rental car, then she handed Griff the keys. She was relieved not to have to do the driving on the wrong side of the road. When he started to back up, a thump-thump-thump came from the front passenger side. He climbed out and so did Jane. He stooped to examine the flat tire, while she went back to search the glove compartment for the instructions.
“Good Heavens. This guide says the jack is under the passenger rear suspension. I don’t even know what that is.” She jabbed the pamphlet back into the glove box and slammed it shut.
“Looks like the tire was slashed. There’s a great big hole in the sidewall. We can’t drive very far on a spare. I’ll get Mairéid’s keys and we’ll take her car.”
Jane ground her teeth. “Mairéid’s probably the one who did this. She’s really pushing my buttons.”
“Much as I dislike her, Mairéid wouldn’t’ve done it. There are hoodlums about. I’ll be right back.” Griff covered the ground between the parking lot and the castle in a few quick steps.
After combing through the glove box one more time, she located the rental agreement and called to report the vandalism. The agency promised to send someone out to replace the tire that afternoon.
Once they were ensconced in Mairéid’s black compact, happiness shown on Griff’s face. She was on the verge of tellin
g him about the threatening notes and text, when he said, “I’m so wired. I can’t wait to get out of town, leave all the worries behind.”
“You’re right. Let’s just enjoy the day.” She could tell him later or not at all. Why give any credence to the warnings? She didn’t want to think about them on this exciting date. Neither did she want to contemplate the confusing murder investigation that appeared to be stalled. “So, where are we going?”
“Cliffs of Moher.”
A tempest roared in her ears and a dizziness came over her for a moment, as she let loose of her seat belt and it clattered back into its holder. Her stomach clenched and churned, and Una’s breakfast roll felt like a hard lump.
“I’m eager for you to see the cliffs, Jane.”
Was today the day to put her ghosts to rest?
She pressed against the seat back, scrutinized Griff’s face out of the corner of her eyes, and then jerked her head away to peer out the passenger window. It was a perfect day. The sky was blue, not overcast, with no hint of rain. A rare, warm, balmy day in Ireland. Nothing bad could happen on such a day as this. She exhaled a deep breath out and fastened her seatbelt with a loud click. “All right. Let’s go.” Her voice sounded a little shaky, a little unsure, and he gave her a puzzled look.
The drive was just an hour and a half through County Clare. They left the motorway behind at Ennis to take the scenic route on the tight, one-lane country road. At one point they encountered a car coming from the other direction. Griff reversed to a slightly wider section of road to let the other vehicle by. But that wasn’t the tensest part of the drive—the nearer they got to the cliffs, the more Jane’s heart raced and she itched all over, hardly able to sit still.
“Is anything wrong?” Griff shot a glance her way as he maneuvered the black compact into a parking spot and turned off the engine.
“Griff…”
“What’s bothering you?” His blue eyes regarded her with concern.
Her words came out unnaturally high. “I have something to tell you.”
“What is it, a rúnsearc?”
“I’ve been to the cliffs already. I’ve been to Ireland once before.”
A Stewed Observation Page 19