IRISH FIRE

by Jeanette Baker

  What things?

  He kissed her shoulder. The cause of the fire.

  Caitlin sat up and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. He was too close and she was too vulnerable. This conversation required space between them. You would tell me if there was anything else, wouldnt you, Brian?

  She could see the indecision in his face and pressed her advantage. Because if you didnt and we werent careful and something happened

  His hands slid up and down her arms. Youre a clever lass, he said, his mouth against her neck. Rest assured, if I thought you were in any danger I would tell you and the garda.

  Why was Annie in the yearling barn?

  She wanted to see the colt.

  Was she with him when you found her?

  She felt the sudden tensing of his jaw.

  I cant be sure, he hedged. The barn was filled with smoke.

  He was lying. She was sure of it. But why? Its odd that Irish Gold was the only horse killed.

  We were lucky.

  I wasnt so lucky, Brian.

  He sighed, sat up, reached for his clothes and began to dress. Irish Gold was crippled, Caitlin. He was facin a serious operation and an uncertain future. The expenses would have been enormous. Even then He stopped suddenly, as if he knew hed already said too much.

  Caitlin frowned. Please, finish that thought.

  Brian tucked in his shirt. I dont believe he would ever have made a race horse.

  A cold miserable lump settled in her stomach. What makes you more of an expert than Robert Fowler?

  Fowlers a vet, not a trainer, Brian replied. He cures sick animals, he doesnt judge them for racin potential.

  Please dont repeat those sentiments to anyone else.

  He stared at her. What is that supposed to mean?

  She swallowed and forced the words through her lips. Irish Golds condition was no secret. I wouldnt want to be suspected of burning down your barn for the insurance money. My children would be taken from me for good. A thought chilled her blood. She could no longer feel the warmth of the blanket between her fingers. I hope you dont think I started the fire for that very reason.

  A thin white line appeared around Brians lips. His face went completely still. Averting her eyes, Caitlin found her clothes. Her fingers shook as she pulled on her underwear, sweater, and slacks. If only he wasnt staring at her. Its late, she said shakily. Ive stayed too long already.

  He interrupted her. You didnt start the fire, Caitlin, but someone did. Its too soon to speculate but when I know more Ill tell you. I promise you that.

  Did someone deliberately set out to kill my colt? she demanded.

  I wouldnt rule out the possibility.

  What about Graybeards Lady? Is she in any danger?

  I dont believe so. The important thing is that you and the children arent in any danger. Annies presence in the barn was coincidental. She wasnt supposed to be there.

  Caitlin shook her head. I dont understand. Suddenly she remembered. Sams man, Mr. Fahey, gave your exercise boy an envelope at the Punchestown races.

  Davy? Brian sounded incredulous. Are you sure?

  Not Davy Flynn. The new one. Tim, I think. Im not sure of his name. I remember thinking how strange it was that you and Sam would do business together. Didnt the boy mention it to you?

  No.

  He was too abrupt, shuttered against her. I know youre keeping something from me. Please tell me whats going on, she pleaded. Ill only think the worst if you dont.

  He hesitated.

  Why wont you trust me? she cried out in frustration.

  Neeve lifted her head and whimpered.

  My daughter was nearly killed and my horse is dead. Dont I have a right to know who hates me enough to do such a thing?

  He swore under his breath, turned to face the wall, and turned back again. If it turns out not to be so, Im goin to look like the worst kind of fool, the worst kind of jealous fool.

  It was her turn to look puzzled. What are you saying?

  I think your husband wanted Irish Gold dead.

  She laughed and stopped herself in the middle, shocked at the hollowness of the sound. Dont be absurd. Sam wants the colt back, or at least he did before we found out about the RLN problem. Im still waiting for the right time to tell him his stable might be infected.

  Have you ever wondered why your husband would go to such trouble to retrieve one colt when he has so many others?

  Probably to spite me.

  He brushed aside her response. I dont think so. I dont believe Irish Gold had any Narraganset blood at all.

  Caitlin stared at him in shock. Are you insane? How could such a thing happen? Its completely illegal. Sam would know it was illegal. Something like that couldnt happen at Claiborne.

  It could indeed. Sam would also know when the results of the blood-typin came back, he would be facin some serious charges, serious enough to put him out of business.

  It was too outrageous. But, Brian, she said helplessly, why would he do such a thing in the first place?

  The line in his forehead deepened. I cant answer that. Perhaps Kentucky Golds coverings by Narraganset werent successful. Maybe Narraganset was ailing even then and couldnt perform for mares whose stud fees were already paid. It would explain a great deal, Caitlin. Robert Fowler suspected it first. Narraganset foals have no history of RLN. Irish Gold had a different kind of conformation altogether. Then there is your husbands irrational behavior over one colt. Now that colt is dead. Everything is too coincidental.

  He would never have gotten away with it, Caitlin protested. People would have known.

  Brian shrugged. In his own barn, with his own people, maybe not. I dont pretend to have all the answers. Why Sam would go to such lengths I have no idea. For some reason it was important to him that the world believed Kentucky Gold was carrying Narragansets foal. Do you have any idea why?

  She remembered how frightened shed been in the pub alone with Sam before Martin interrupted them. Not the world, she said slowly, just me. He wanted me to believe it.

  Brian waited, giving her time to think.

  He was furious when he found out Id taken Kentucky Gold. He wanted her to foal in a Claiborne barn. She looked up at him with horror in her eyes. He wasnt going to let the foal live. He couldnt because I would know the truth when the colt was blood-typed.

  That still doesnt explain why he would consider such a charade in the first place. Why wouldnt he simply tell you the coverins didnt take?

  Narraganset commanded a larger stud fee than any stallion in North America. She was thinking out loud, trying to see the logic in it. When Sam gave me Kentucky Gold he promised, in writing, that every year I would be guaranteed the proceeds of one foal out of her by Narraganset.

  Why wouldnt he honor your agreement?

  Caitlin shook her head. I dont know. Maybe you were right when you said that Narraganset could no longer perform the way he had in the past. Sam never was very good at managing money. Most of the stud fees were spent before we even received them. Its possible he didnt want to waste the stallion on my mare when there were paying customers. He hasnt been thinking too clearly the last few years. She shrugged. Its a stretch. Well never know anyway now that Irish Gold cant be blood-typed.

  Brian stared into the fire, both hands thrust deeply into his pockets. Caitlin noticed his balled fists. Ill be leaving now.

  First, tell me what you saw at the Punchestown races between Fahey and our Tim.

  Caitlin repeated her story and answered his questions until he was satisfied. Finally, he nodded. That should be enough for now.

  She stepped in front of him, arms folded against her chest, her back to the fire. What will you do?

  Nothin yet. Ill wait until Keith finishes his investigation. Hell determine whether the fire was an arsonists doin. If so, Ill tell him what you told me.

  It isnt much, is it?

  He smiled and her heart turned over. Reaching for her, he held her against his shoulder. Well sort it out,
love, he murmured against her hair. Dont worry. I wont let anythin happen to you.

  It was an absurd vow. He couldnt possibly keep it, and yet, she was comforted just knowing that he wanted to.

  It was after midnight but she decided to stop in at the hospital to check on Annie. The carpark was nearly empty when Caitlin drove in as close to the emergency entrance as possible and turned off the ignition. The nurse on duty at the desk looked up, smiled encouragingly, and waved her past.

  She hurried down the long corridor to the room where Annie slept, opened the door, and stopped abruptly. Her husband was seated in a chair by the bed, his head buried in his hands.

  Rage, hot and violent, rose in her chest. His greed had nearly killed Annie. He was the reason her daughter lay there, small and white and sedated, in a bed with bars. A sob rose in Caitlins throat. She swallowed it, struggled against her temper, and felt the soothing fingers of sanity calm her nerves. There was no real evidence. Not yet. Brian had told her to wait until the fire chief finished his investigation. No good would come of accusing Sam before there was proof.

  She walked into the room and took her place on the other side of Annie. Sam looked up. Despite her anger, Caitlin was moved to pity. She had never seen him look so haggard. The knowledge that his actions nearly cost him his daughter must be taking its toll. He looked years older than when she saw him last.

  How long have you been here? Caitlin whispered.

  Not long.

  Has Annie opened her eyes?

  Sam shook his head and ran his hands over his face. God, Caitlin. I wonder if I should call Mama. If anything happens to Annie

  Nothings wrong with Annie, Caitlin replied sharply. Shes been sedated to help her sleep and shell probably have a sore throat, but thats all.

  Thank God.

  Guilt. Thats what he was feeling. Pure guilt. She didnt want to be around him. Ill take over now, Sam. You look like you could use some rest.

  His face worked. Im sorry, Caitlin, so sorry.

  She froze, waiting for him to continue, wanting him to confess. And when he did, she would kill him. He deserved nothing less. No one would blame her, not after hearing the story.

  His voice changed, became waspish, self-pitying. None of this would have happened if you hadnt left me. We could have worked it out. Why in the hell did you have to go and file for a divorce?

  She felt the white heat rise in her cheeks. You know why and its pointless to go over it again. Lowering her voice, she spoke in hushed tones. Id like to talk to you about something, but not in here.

  He stood, picked up his coat, and followed her out of the room. Caitlin closed the door firmly behind them.

  She came right to the point. My horse was lost in the fire today. Was there the tiniest change in his expression? She couldnt tell.

  Im sorry.

  Only sorry? Not upset, outraged, even disappointed?

  He ran a shaking hand through his hair. What do you want from me, Caitlin? Of course Im disappointed, but if I fell apart over the loss of one yearling I wouldnt stay in business for long.

  This is the colt weve been squaring off over since before he was born.

  I told you I was disappointed but there isnt anything I can do about it. Annies alive, thats the most important thing.

  I agree. But it changes the terms of our divorce.

  How?

  The colt is no longer an issue. I assume that even you cant dispute the ownership of Kentucky Gold.

  You can have the damn mare, he said angrily. I want my children in Kentucky with me. If they were home where they belong none of this would have happened.

  Her voice was cold, deadly. How dare you say such a thing when you know perfectly well there would have been no fire if it hadnt been for She stopped.

  Go on.

  She turned away from him. Go away, Sam. Go home. You bring out the worst in me.

  You wont win this one, Caitlin, he said before walking away.

  Shaking off the frightening thought, she sat down in the chair Sam had vacated and rested her head on her arms. Something nagged at her, something that hadnt sounded quite right when Sam first said it, but she was too angry to examine why. It came to her just as she was dozing off. She had three horses stabled at the Curragh Stud. Sam never asked which one hadnt survived the fire. He hadnt asked because he already knew.

  24

  Mary Boyle pursed her lips and surveyed the damage before her. She avoided eye contact with Brian. It could have been worse. At least it was only one barn and one horse.

  Wheres Tim? Brian asked abruptly.

  Tim Sheehan? Our exercise boy?

  Brian nodded.

  I dont believe well be seein him today. Hes feelin a bit under the weather, poor lad.

  Is he now?

  Aye. His mother called in for him.

  Brian looked at his watch. I think Ill look in on our Tim. If Mrs. Benedict calls, tell her to leave a number. Ill get back to her before the days over.

  The stricken look on the cooks face smote him. He draped an arm over her shoulder. Now, Mary, love, he said soothingly, youre not to think of her as an ogre. Shes bound to be a bit upset. After all its her stud farm. But she wont be blamin you for the mess were in.

  Easy for you to say, Mary retorted. Shes always had a soft spot for you, Brian Hennessey. Its the rest of us who get the sharp edge of her tongue.

  With a final comforting squeeze, Brian dropped his arm and headed for the compact parked in his gravel driveway. Hillary Benedict could be difficult. To her credit she had taken over her late husbands business empire two years ago and done a respectable job of maintaining its profit margin, not too bad for a woman who had grown up in a Limerick row house with nine families to a single latrine. He had to admit that she was much warmer with him than she was with her other employees. For the most part he declined her invitations, aware that their similar upbringing gave her cause to believe they still shared commonalities, a misconception he had gently, with limited success, tried to correct.

  Tim Sheehan lived outside of Kilcullen in a three room house kept by his mother. Mrs. Sheehan opened the door and welcomed Brian warmly. Please come in, Mr. Hennessey. Its kind of you to be lookin in on our Tim. Will you have a cuppa while its hot?

  No, thank you, Mrs. Sheehan. Id like a word with your son, if you dont mind.

  Not a bit, not a bit. Hands fluttering, she shuffled ahead of him, down the hall to the back of the house where Tim lay in his narrow bed.

  At first glance Brian thought his suspicions were unfounded. The lad sported the flushed cheeks and glittering eyes of a serious fever.

  Tim, love, his mother said, Mr. Hennessey is here to cheer you up.

  The flame in the boys cheeks burned deeper. H-hello, Mr. Hennessey.

  Brian nodded and smiled at his hostess. I believe I will have that tea after all, Mrs. Sheehan.

  She beamed. Ill fix a fresh pot and bring it in.

  He waited until she disappeared into the kitchen before closing the door. Pulling a chair close to the bed, he sat down. Have you heard about the fire we had at the Stud, Tim?

  The boy shook his head.

  Your mother said youd heard, he improvised. The word is all over town.

  Oh, that. Tim hedged. Maybe I did hear something.

  It would be a difficult thing to forget. After all, youre an employee of the Stud. Brian met the boys shifting gaze with his own direct one. I imagine its the fever talkin.

  Tim grabbed on to the excuse. Aye. Its the fever.

  Theres talk of arson, Brian said casually. The fire inspector plans an investigation. Well know soon.

  Know what? Tims hand was at his throat, his voice a painful sounding croak.

  Brian nodded. Theres always evidence left behind that points to the guilty one.

  Mrs. Sheehan knocked on the door. Let me in. My hands are full.

  Brian opened the door and took the tea tray from her. Id like to speak with Tim for a bit longer, if you dont mind,
Mrs. Sheehan.

  I dont mind at all, Mr. Hennessey. She backed away. If you need anythin, Ill be in the sittin room.

  He set the tray on the nightstand and once again took his seat. Where was I?

  You were saying there was evidence left behind. Tim appeared to have snapped out of his fever haze.

  Im told there always is. Brian held out a cup. Shall I pour the tea, lad?

  N-n-no, thank you.

  Brian poured himself a cup. He took his time adding the milk and sugar. I was wonderin if you could help me out with somethin?

  Whats that, Mr. Hennessey?

  Mr. Fahey gave you an envelope at the Punchestown races. Would you tell me what was in it?

  The exercise boys face was leached of all color except for two red circles on his gaunt cheeks. The envelope, sir?

  Aye.

  I-I dont remember.

  Brian drained his tea and stood. I think youd better, lad, and soon.

  The boy shrank back in the bed and swallowed. His breathing became labored. He barely managed the words. I dont want to go to jail.

  Have you a criminal record?

  No.

  If youre honest with me you may get off with less.

  What shall I do?

  Tell me what you know.

  Nothing much, the boy said miserably. Mr. Fahey asked to buy me a drink. He said how Mrs. Claiborne had stolen her husbands colt and how the Stud would be shut down after he sued. He said Id be out of a job at the least. He was hurrying now, his words tumbling over each other in an oddly disjointed confession. He told me I could earn some cash. He said it was the least I could do. It would go easier on me if I did what he said.

  Did he tell you to set fire to the barn?

  No.

  Brians hand tightened on the china teacup. Did he tell you to bolt the door?

  The boy hung his head.

  Answer me, lad. There was something in Brians voice that demanded an honest answer.

  Tims reply was a mere whisper. No.

  Did you know there was a wee lass asleep in the barn?

  Now the lad truly looked wasted. I swear not, Mr. Hennessey.

  Annie Claiborne was in that barn when you bolted the door and set fire to it. What do you think Mr. Claiborne would have done to you had you killed his daughter?