by Paula Martin
"Did you find out anything more about the builder?"
"Not yet. There are twelve builders listed for Castlebar, and I can eliminate some because they're shown under full names, but others only have a surname, and I still haven't been able to find out Conor's surname."
"Isn't his name on his van?"
"No, it's a rental."
"That's unusual, isn't it? Most small businesses use their vehicles as an advertising medium."
"True, but if he's using it to transport stolen goods, he won't want to advertise his name, will he?"
"Good point. Well, best of luck, Ryan."
Ryan hesitated for a moment, and went on, "Can you do some more research for me, Dec? Private, not official."
His friend laughed. "Go on. Birth, marriage or death?"
"None of those. I'd like to find out where Francis and Theresa Brogan are living now. Older couple, probably in their seventies, assuming they're still alive."
"I'll see what I can come up with."
"Thanks."
Ryan ended the call, and fought against the temptation to jump to wild conclusions about Mick Leary. His detective training cautioned him against acting on his gut feeling, even though his instincts had served him right in the past. He needed hard evidence before he asked Enya to order a raid on the cottage, and timing was paramount. If the loot was being stored there, and if Mick Leary was involved and could be persuaded to name names, there was a chance of wrapping up this case.
And that was a double-edged sword. Yes, it would be a relief not to spend his days and evenings as a taxi driver, but he would then have to return to BCI headquarters in Dublin. If they decided to send him on another assignment elsewhere in the Republic, it would make things difficult as far as his personal life was concerned. Or, more precisely, as far as Kara was concerned.
When his phone rang again, he smiled at the sight of her name on the screen. Had some sixth sense told her he was thinking about her?
"Hi, Kara, have you had a good day?"
"If you call a full day's drama workshop with fifty kids a good day, then yes."
"Sounds like my worst nightmare."
"Don't you like kids?"
"Yes, but not fifty at a time."
She laughed. "They were okay, apart from a couple of hyperactive ones. How was your day?"
"Not over yet. Things are quiet at the moment, but the phone will start ringing soon when folks want to go back to their hotels or guesthouses. Clifden was crowded earlier with tourists, so we'll be busy later."
"Are you working tomorrow evening?"
"No, I finish at six."
"In that case, would you like to come to our beach barbecue? I forgot to mention it last night."
"Not surprising, since your mind was too full of everything Sister Gabriel told you. Oh, and I've asked Declan to find out where Theresa and Francis Brogan are living now."
"Do you think he will?"
"Possibly. He has access to loads of online sites."
"If he has to pay for them, please tell him I'm more than willing to reimburse him."
"Don't worry about that." He couldn't tell her Declan's free access to some websites was due to his Garda log-in. "What time is the barbecue?"
"About eight o'clock."
"Do I need to bring anything?"
"Just yourself. Maggie, our cook, has ordered all the food, so there'll be plenty to eat."
"Sounds grand. I'll look forward to it."
He gave a nod of satisfaction as he clicked off his phone. It would be good to spend a relaxing evening with her and her friends.
A couple of hours later, when he was returning from dropping off a fare on the Westport Road, a different thought jerked into his mind. Tomorrow evening might give him an opportunity to make some discreet enquiries about Mick Leary.
* * * * *
As Ryan rounded the bend in the drive on Sunday evening, his breath caught at the sight of Kara sitting on one of the wooden benches at the front of Mist Na Mara House. In white cropped trousers and a sleeveless orange and white top, with her hair blowing in the breeze, she looked stunning. She was gazing out across the bay, obviously lost in thought, and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she looking forward to this evening as much as he was?
She jumped up and waved, and he drove into a space between two other parked cars on the forecourt and switched off the engine.
"Hi," she said as he got out. "The others went down to the beach about ten minutes ago, and Guy and Luke lit the barbecues at seven o'clock, so the food should be ready soon. Hope you're hungry."
"Starving." He bent forward to kiss her cheek, and grasped her hand. "How do we get to the beach from here? Through the farmyard at the end of the lane?"
"No, there's a short-cut. It's not a real path, just a track through the fields that hikers sometimes use, with a couple of stiles to climb over."
She pointed out the track leading from the forecourt and they picked their way across an area of rock-strewn grassy hillocks until they came to a small wooden stile with a couple of steps each side. After helping her over the stile, he tilted his head toward the scaffolding that was visible above the overgrown shrubs on his left.
"How's the restoration going?"
"Not as quickly as Guy hoped. Conor's discovered some problems with the rafters, so most of them will have to be replaced."
"It's going to be a long job, is it?" He couldn't help but wonder whether Conor was deliberately prolonging the work until he found another location to store the goods.
"Oh, there have been masses of delays. Last year, three bat surveys had to be done before planning permission was granted, and then the first builder Guy contracted went out of business last December."
"I would have thought he'd find another Clifden builder, not one from Castlebar"
Kara grinned. "I think Liz may have had something to do with that. She started dating Conor in January, introduced him to Guy, and presumably Conor gave him a good quote for the job."
Jigsaw pieces slotted together in Ryan's mind, as well as a raft of questions. Paddy Walsh had been going by taxi to Roscommon almost every Monday morning since February. Was that when Conor first gained access to the cottage? Had he been looking around for a new storage site once the previous route was compromised last December? Was it pure chance that he started dating Liz at the beginning of the year, or had that been a ploy to get the contract? And where did Mick Leary come into all this?
Although he was tempted to ask more about Conor, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. This wasn't the time or place to pursue his investigation, especially when Kara's smooth hand held his as he helped her over the second stile. Far better to concentrate on the present.
He leant forward to kiss her, and her immediate response both delighted and aroused him. She rested one hand against his cheek while the other clutched the collar of his polo shirt. When her lips parted and her tongue sought his, he pulled her against him, sliding his hands down her back to hold her against him as he deepened their kiss.
Was it minutes or hours later before they drew apart? He gazed down into her forget-me-not eyes, took a deep breath, and pursed his lips as he blew it out.
"Whoa!"
She gave him a mischievous grin. "No convenient haylofts near here, or soft mossy grass, like you see in the movies."
He chuckled. "And this spiky grass might prove painful, so I'm thinking we should continue to the beach. How many people are at this barbecue?"
Her forehead creased in concentration. "About fifteen, I think. Guy and Jenna, of course, and Niall, who's the resident artist here for the summer season, and the rest of our Living History group, and some of the live-in housekeeping staff."
"Am I the only non-staff member?"
"No, Charley's fiancé, Luke, is here. He's the vet in Clifden."
"Ah, that Luke. Yes, I've driven him to Skelleen a couple of times. Is Liz's boyfriend here, too?"
"Yes, and Niall's wife, Amy, and
some of the staff have invited their partners."
"That's good. I must admit I wondered if all the conversation would be about art and drama."
She shook her head. "No shop talk tonight, but Jenna and Amy will probably be discussing babies since they're both pregnant. Amy's due in a couple of weeks, and Jenna in August."
He chuckled. "I don't think I could contribute anything to their discussion."
"You might enjoy talking to Richard, though. He's one of the Living History group, and he's done a lot of research into Irish history."
He nodded as they walked with arms around each other down the sloping track toward the beach, from where the sound of music, voices, and laughter drifted through the evening air. A conversation with Conor might prove even more interesting, but, if he was being honest, he didn't want to think about stolen goods tonight. Even an undercover cop needed a night off from time to time, and being here with Kara was his priority right now.
They crossed an area of shingle to reach the narrow strip of sandy beach, strewn with uneven rocks and straggly brown seaweed.
"Not the most attractive beach in the world, is it?" Ryan said, as they headed toward the group congregated near two barbecue grills from which the distinctive scent of smouldering charcoal combined with the aroma of chicken, sausages, and burgers.
Kara stopped. "Maybe not, but it's a beautiful view. I love the long light evenings you have here. At home, it goes dark about eight-thirty."
He nodded, and kept her pressed close to his side as they surveyed the panorama. On their left, the grey peaks of the Twelve Bens were hazy in the evening sunshine; ahead of them, on the far side of the narrow bay, were low green hills, and to their right, broken only by a few rocky islets, was the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.
"Hey, about time, you two! What kept you?"
Kara smiled. "That's Liz, in case you didn't recognise her."
"I did, and her boyfriend is talking to Guy Sinclair."
"Yes, but I don't know the other man with them."
Surprise jolted through Ryan as he recognised the man who had been at the cottage the previous Monday. Mick Leary, according to Declan. Why on earth would he be here for a social occasion? Because he was a neighbour? Or was there something more?
So much for thinking he could enjoy a night off. Undercover work meant he always had to be alert to possible clues or new developments. His glance slid sideways to the three men who were deep in conversation. An intense conversation, it seemed, as Guy was frowning, while Conor shook his head and raised his hand to interrupt whatever Mick was saying. A few seconds later, Conor and Guy were both laughing, and Mick took a slurp from his beer can before he laughed, too.
Of course, it might simply be a conversation about the latest problem with the roof, or even about Galway's victory in the hurling match against Cork the previous day. Maybe he was becoming paranoid, but an uncomfortable sensation squeezed his stomach. The cottage was now Guy's property, he'd given the contract to Conor, and Mick Leary, who'd stolen from him in the past, was here tonight. Were they all in cahoots?
He dragged his mind back to the present as Kara made the introductions.
"I'll try to remember all your names," he said with a grin.
Liz laughed. "We'll test you later. In the meantime, I think Luke might appreciate your help, and Kara, will you see if there's another pack of bread rolls in that red box?"
Ryan relaxed as he strolled across to where Luke Sullivan, the Clifden veterinary surgeon, was flipping burgers on the barbecue.
"Need any help?"
"Well-timed, Ryan. I think some of those sausages are about to become burnt offerings." Luke handed him tongs and a spatula. "Rescue them, will you? Guy was supposed to be looking after them, but he's in deep discussion with his builder."
As Ryan lifted the well-done sausages off the grill and piled them on a foil plate at the side, he glanced again at the three men. "I recognise the builder. Conor, isn't it? Can't remember his surname."
"McBride. Conor McBride, and the other one is Mick Leary."
"From the Leary farm, is he?"
"Aye, he's home on a short visit, I believe."
"Wasn't he a real tearaway as a teenager?"
Luke nodded. "He's not the brightest spark in the box, and he was well-known in Clifden for shoplifting and invariably getting caught. A spell on probation sorted him out, and he's working on the ferries out of Belfast now."
Another jigsaw piece slotted into place in Ryan's mind, but he didn't have time to think any more about it when Guy approached them. In his mid-thirties, the owner of Mist Na Mara Arts Centre retained the appearance of a bohemian artist with his youthful features and longish dark hair that reached the collar of his polo shirt, but Ryan had heard enough locally to appreciate the fact that Guy Sinclair was an astute businessman who had worked hard over the last few years to build up the reputation of the Centre.
Surely he wouldn't risk all that by becoming involved with a stolen goods racket? Unless he needed the money and was receiving a substantial pay-off for allowing his premises to be used? Ryan made a mental note to ask Declan to check the financial status of the Arts Centre.
"Ryan, good to see you." Guy held out his hand. "I'm so pleased Kara invited you here this evening. You're very welcome."
Ryan shook his hand. "Thanks."
A quick glance around showed him that Mick Leary had disappeared, and Conor joined them at the barbecues.
"Food's ready now," Luke said. "Let's get this lot on the foil platters, and everyone can help themselves."
Ten minutes later, after they'd all filled their plates, Ryan sat on one of the beach chairs next to Kara. The group conversation flipped from bike rides on the Wild Atlantic Way to the Disney film being shown at the Station House cinema, and from a recent sea-angling competition to the fund-raising quiz night at Connolly's in Skelleen the following week. Quips and witty comments abounded, and Ryan exchanged numerous amused glances with Kara. It felt good being here with her. No, more than good. Somehow it was right, and the thought surprised him. He'd had other girlfriends, of course, but never before had he experienced an inner sense of this was meant to be.
"And all because I nearly knocked you down," he said, as Kara handed him a paper plate with a large slice of chocolate cake.
"'Scuse me?"
"I've realised I'm only here tonight because you looked the wrong way when you crossed the road in Galway."
"That's true." She grinned. "Is that what they call kismet? Or do I mean serendipity?"
"Perhaps a bit of both. Did you ever hear about the invisible red thread?" When her forehead furrowed, he went on, "It's an old Chinese saying. An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet. It can be stretched or tangled, but will never be broken."
She blinked. "Do you believe that?"
"I hadn't given it much thought until tonight, but I think I do." He laughed. "Put it down to my Irish whimsy. Or whiskey," he added as he took another bite of the chocolate cake. "Did your cook make this?"
"Yes, it's divine, isn't it?"
"And laced with Bailey's, I think. Hope I'm still safe to drive after this."
"As long as you don't eat the whole cake, I think you'll be fine."
He looked around as someone turned up the sound from the speakers attached to an mp3 player. Liz and Conor, and several others, were using the music as an excuse to dance cheek-to-cheek, and he raised his eyebrows. "Want to dance?"
Kara's eyes lit up. "Love to. It's an excuse to get close to you, isn't it?"
Standing, he held out his hand to her. "Sounds good to me."
They swayed together for several numbers, his hands resting on her lower back, her arms around his neck, and her warm cheek against his.
"Wish we were alone," he whispered.
"So do I, but I think we might be missed."
He surveyed the group. "Looks like Liz and Conor have taken themselves off somewhere."
She giggled.
"Maybe he has a mattress in his van."
"Or he's taken her to a hotel in Clifden."
She raised her eyebrows. "You think so?"
Jaysus, he'd done it again. Almost revealed information from his 'other' life when he'd seen them heading into one of the Salthill hotels.
"Just a wild guess." He glanced over her shoulder. "It's a grand sunset tonight."
Kara turned, and he rested his arm around her shoulders as they watched the golden orb descending slowly through a pink haze toward the horizon.
"I love seeing the sun going down over the sea," she murmured.
"Me, too. One day I'll take you to the Cliffs of Moher to see—" His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. "Sorry, I need to take this call." He pressed the icon and listened. "Okay, thanks, Dec. Text me the address, will you, because I can't write it down at the moment…Yeah, thanks."
He clicked off his phone and tightened his hand on Kara's arm. "Francis and Theresa Brogan. Declan has found an address for them."
Her eyes widened. "A recent one?"
"The current one, according to the electoral roll."
"Oh! Oh, wow." She gave him a tremulous smile. "I'm not sure whether I want to know the address or not."
Chapter 14
Despite her initial uncertainty, Kara's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked Ryan to text the address to her. It was in Sligo, and she had to study a map to discover it was about a hundred miles north-east of Clifden.