“Surely I don’t have to tell you that! The cheek of her! Driving me to confrontation in the street!”
“Okay, okay, Mam,” Fiona said, trying to get the situation under control again. “Let’s ignore the fact that she provoked you. What happened after that?”
“I told you. I went home to call the other members of the council and see if they’d heard anything about her trying to muscle in.”
“And after that?”
Mrs McCabe looked affronted. “You think I did it, don’t you?!”
Fiona shook her head. “I just hope you didn’t, but from the sounds of it, you had a pretty heated argument just before she was killed.”
“Oh Fiona!” her mother threw her hands up. “I went home and rang around. It crossed my mind to go over there and try to get the truth out of her, but I didn’t. I got the dinner on instead because I knew there was no point in bothering. She’s too sly.”
“I don’t get it. If you were home, why can’t Dad or Ben just come down here and tell them that?”
“That’s the thing, Fiona,” Margaret said, looking hunted. “Usually there’d be somebody around the house, but everyone was out this morning. I was home alone until half an hour before the guards came. Nobody can vouch for me to say I didn’t go over to Mrs Stanley’s.”
5
“RIGHT,” Fiona said, marching into the sitting room and plugging out the telly. “We need to sit down and try to get to the bottom of this.”
“Ah, what? I was watching that,” Ben groaned.
Fiona stood in front of the screen even though there was no way he could see anything on it. “If Mam heard you say a thing like that…”
“Well she can’t, can she? She’s in jail.”
“She’s not in jail,” Francis said. “She’s in the station for questioning. There’s a difference.”
“Yeah, and that difference is mainly timing. They need to charge her soon or else release her.”
“There you go, so,” Ben said. “We can get back to watching the match and we’ll see her tomorrow.”
“You’ve changed your tune since earlier. Remember? You rang me and you were almost in tears. What happened?”
“I think Spurs scored is what happened,” their father said drily.
Ben shrugged. “So? I’ve been looking forward to this match for ages.”
“You’re her favourite,” Fiona snapped. “She’d be devastated if she knew you didn’t care about clearing her name. Right, everyone else: come and help. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”
“Ah, Fiona,” her father groaned. “It’s all a bit far-fetched, isn’t it? I mean, I’d be worried if they were holding her for disturbing the peace, but murder? No. It’ll never stick.”
“What are you talking about Dad? They wouldn’t have her down there if they didn’t think she could be done for it. Why are you burying your head in the sand?”
Far from being convinced, though, he just seemed irritated. He waved her away as if she was a fly buzzing around his head. “Plug in the television there Ben, there’s a good lad.”
“LOOKS like it’s just us two then.”
Marty nodded. “Looks like it. Ah, Granny probably would have helped but she’s staying with Mam. Brennan’s trying to intimidate her by questioning her overnight.”
“That man is unbelievable,” she said, shuddering. “Anyway, there’s not a lot we can do about that. How do we clear her name? How do we get Mam out? Am I the only one who sees this as serious? They all think it’s a joke, but you heard her earlier. She was absolutely raging at Mrs Stanley. All Robocop needs to do is hear that and I bet he’ll throw the book at her.”
“They don’t have any evidence, though.”
“Do they need it? You heard her. She was caught on camera arguing with the woman just a few hours before she wound up dead. Then she went home but there’s nobody to prove that.”
“You don’t think she did it, do you?”
“Of course not,” Fiona said without hesitation. “But it’s not me we need to convince: it’s Brennan.”
“I know. It’s hopeless, isn’t it?”
Fiona shook her head. “It can’t be. Dad’s in shock and Mam isn’t far off. Brennan is convinced it’s her. We’ve got to prove it wasn’t.”
“How do we prove she was here? Nobody else was around.”
“I don’t know.”
They lapsed into silence then, both staring down at their hands. After several minutes of this, Marty shook his head.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”
“I’d say so,” Fiona said gravely. “How are we supposed to clear her name if we don’t have any idea what happened?”
He shook his head.
That was the thing. They knew Mrs Stanley had been poisoned in her own home, sometime in the late morning. That was it. They didn’t know anything about the woman, much less about who she associated with or any enemies she might have had.
“Maybe Dad knows something.”
“No,” Fi said with a sigh. “And even if he did he’s in no state to tell us. I’ve never seen him like this, Marty. He’s beside himself. We’ve got to find the real killer.”
Marty looked thoughtful.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, staring off into space. “I don’t know anything about Mrs Stanley. Nothing at all. How many people in town can you say that about?”
Fiona shook her head. “Not many. But it doesn’t prove a thing. Maybe she was just quiet.”
“That’s it. She kept herself to herself. So what did she do that made somebody want to kill her?”
“Money?”
“She didn’t have any. Unless she had a secret stash that nobody knew about.”
Fi shook her head. “No, I remember something Granny Coyle said now. Granny never liked her much. Said she used to go visit her sister in Florida every year. She stopped doing it a few years ago. Granny was giving out; wishing Mrs Stanley would take her grumpy head off to Florida and spare Granny the sight of her.”
Marty buried his head in his hands. “So Granny had a real beef with her. How’s that going to look?”
“It’s not as if Mam killed the woman on Granny Coyle’s behalf now, is it? I wasn’t saying that; just that it’s unlikely she was murdered for her money.”
“What then?”
“Come on.”
Fiona stood and followed him to the door. “Where? Where are you going at this hour? It’s not like she’s got any family in the area we can talk to.”
He grinned. “Who said we were going to talk to anybody?”
6
“I DON’T LIKE THIS,” Fi protested as they walked along the dark road.
“I didn’t force you to come with me,” Marty called back cheerfully.
She hadn’t had to ask where he intended to go: she’d understood from the look in his eyes. Marty had always loved doing things he wasn’t supposed to, but this took the cake.
“Because I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Stop moaning so.”
“I’m not moaning,” she hissed, treading carefully to avoid slipping on the muddy verge. “I’m just scared. We could get in a lot of trouble if we’re caught.”
His laughter was startling in the still air. “Who’s going to catch us? Brennan is down at the station trying to drive Mam to distraction. Conway is down at Phelan’s.”
“We could head down there. Try and find out what he knows.”
“I swung by Phelan’s after I closed up the shop this evening. I could tell from the way he was talking that he knew nothing. The others were lapping it up, of course. If these murders keep up, Conway will be a celebrity around these parts.”
“They won’t keep up,” Fiona hissed, shivering despite the mild evening. “Don’t say a thing like that.”
“I was only passing comment. That’s all.”
“I know,” she whispered, rushing forward to keep up with him despite the u
neven ground. “I’m just a little creeped out by this.”
“You’re a wuss.”
“I’ll gladly admit to that. Can we go home now?”
“No. I’m certain there’s something in that house that’ll clear Mam’s name.”
“The guards will find it if it’s there.”
He stopped abruptly and she almost collided with him. “Are you serious? You’re the first one around here who’ll talk about how incompetent the Ballycashel Gardaí are. And you want to trust your mother’s freedom to that shower?”
“No, but…”
“Well then, stop. Do you see the sense in what I’m saying?”
She nodded in the darkness. “Yeah,” she said. “They’d need a map to find their own heads. Conway is lovely but he’d be a better granddad than a detective.”
“Come on, so. Unless you want to go home.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. There’s something very creepy about going into a murder scene. Let’s hope her ghost is well gone.”
“Marty!”
“Sorry,” he said, snorting with laughter. “I thought you didn’t believe in that sort of stuff.”
“That’s not to say I won’t be creeped out by it when we’re sneaking around in the middle of the night.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“Hmm.”
Fiona focussed on her breathing, telling herself there was nothing to worry about. It had taken a while, but her eyes finally started to adjust to the darkness. There were no street lights this far outside of the centre of the town.
She frowned as she noticed a darker patch than the rest up ahead and was startled when she realised it was someone coming towards them. She must have jumped from fright.
“Whoa, you’re skittish.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I guess I creeped myself out thinking about getting caught and that.”
“Don’t worry. We’re doing nothing wrong; just going for a walk.”
“I know,” she whispered, telling herself to calm down and not let on how jumpy she was.
As it turned out, though, it wasn’t a friend of theirs. It was Jimmy Brady. He had always been a quiet man, but he’d become even more withdrawn in recent months. Someone had distributed anonymous flyers around town revealing that he’d applied to have wind turbines built on his land. It was a contentious enough issue around town as it was, but it was made more devastating in Jimmy Brady’s case because he’d been publicly opposed to the turbines.
“Poor man,” Marty muttered, when they’d passed the mournful-looking old farmer.
Fiona sighed. “What he did was a bit underhand, but the way he’s been outcast is just vicious.”
They walked on in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Fi knew Marty was right and if he hadn’t insisted on going to Mrs Stanley’s house, she would probably have come up with the idea on her own. She was glad that she didn’t have to go in there alone, but the thought of creeping around in the dark wasn’t very appealing.
“Won’t we see more if we wait until it’s bright?”
“I brought a torch.”
“But you won’t be able to use it. What if someone sees?”
“They won’t. The curtains are probably drawn just like they always are. Nobody’ll be close enough to see torchlight.”
“What if the guards are keeping watch?”
“They won’t be. I told you. Conway is in Phelan’s for the night and Fitzpatrick has his hands full with a house full of kids. Brennan is probably hiding out in his office and licking his wounds from the hard time Granny is giving him.”
“True.” She was running out of objections.
“Here we are,” Marty said cheerily. It was completely dark now, but they’d held off from using the torch in case anyone spotted them walking past. They knew from experience that the residents of Ballycashel often had little better to do than stare out their windows and wait for one of the McCabes to do something remarkable or gossip-worthy.
“How are we going to get in?” She whispered as they walked up the path as quietly as they could.
“Aha,” Marty said. “Well I’m hoping there’s a spare key.”
“Oh,” Fi said, disappointed. “Isn’t that hoping for a bit too much?”
He shrugged as they reached the front door and started checking under the flower pots.
Fiona was amazed when they found two keys underneath a pot beside the back door. She was even more amazed when they fit in the lock.
“See,” Marty whispered, closing the door noiselessly behind them. “Most people keep spare keys around the place. I tell them not when they come in to get them cut, but I know they don’t listen.”
Fi sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing for us that they don’t. If we’d been looking for an open window we’d have been out of luck.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t seem like there’s been a window open here for quite some time. I’ll just run through and check all the curtains are closed before we risk using the torch.”
He took off, but within a few steps he stopped abruptly after nearly tripping over a pile of crockery in the middle of the kitchen floor.
“Whoa,” he whistled. “Whoever broke in here was certainly thorough.”
Fiona looked around. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the inside of the house, she could see that the floor was completely covered and that the drawers and kitchen presses had been completely emptied out.
Marty moved carefully to the door and closed it before switching on his torch. Fiona foolishly expected the beam of light to immediately land on something that identified the murderer, but there was nothing.
“It’s just plates. Teapots.”
Everything was in pieces on the floor. The thief hadn’t left any stone untouched: a bag of porridge had been tipped out onto the floor. The table was the only clear surface in the room—the guards must have taken everything that was on it as evidence.
Fiona shivered at the thought.
“Be careful not to touch anything,” she said, as they moved to the door and Marty switched off the torch. “Or if you do, make sure to cover your hand with your sleeve.”
They tiptoed along the short hall to the sitting room.
“Good God,” Marty whispered, as his foot crunched on something that sounded like broken glass. “They even pulled the pictures off the walls.”
“It was so obviously a burglary gone wrong,” Fi muttered. “Why would the guards even think Mam did it?”
Marty didn’t reply. He made his way carefully across the room and pulled the curtains so there were no gaps between them that might allow their torchlight to be seen. He clicked on the torch.
“Whoa.”
“What?”
“Look.”
Fiona followed the beam of the torch and gasped. She certainly hadn’t expected to see a state-of-the art flat-screen television on the wall and that wasn’t because she begrudged an old woman her creature comforts.
Mrs Stanley wasn’t supposed to have two pennies to rub together. Stranger still, why would any burglar worth his salt leave such an expensive TV just hanging on the wall?
“Maybe he didn’t see it,” Fiona said without much conviction.
“Well he didn’t miss this.” Marty patted the top of an all-in-one computer unit. “This model was only released about six months ago.”
Fiona stepped carefully over the mess to get a closer look. It soon became clear to her that the burglar certainly hadn’t missed the computer: it was smashed.
“Why wouldn’t he just steal it instead of destroying it? This is getting weirder and weirder. Mam said she saw Mrs Stanley on one of the library computers. Why would she use those when she has her own fancy computer?”
“Maybe she smashed it herself.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know,” Marty sighed, moving to the sideboard. The doors were open and the conte
nts of the drawers had been tipped on the ground. He paused. “This feels wrong.”
“I know. It’s horrible. But if I had to choose between doing this and seeing Mam go to prison…”
He started rummaging in the pile without saying another word. Fiona went to his side and took the torch from him, holding it up so he could see what he was looking at. The sight didn’t fill her with hope. The floor was covered with envelopes of all different shapes and sizes.
After a few minutes, Marty sighed. “This is hopeless. If there’s anything useful in here, there’s no way we’re going to find it among all these bills and letters. Plus the thief probably took anything valuable.”
“Wait a sec,” Fiona said, reaching past him. “What’s this?”
The blue plastic envelope hadn’t been visible until Marty had flipped over the last envelope, but now it was unmissable. Fi pulled it out and looked at it. The logo was instantly recognisable: they walked past Ann’s Travel Services every time they went into town.
Fiona’s gut told her what she was going to see before her shaking fingers had even managed to pull open the flap.
Sure enough, it was a ticket to Fort Lauderdale, via Orlando, dated two weeks in the future.
“What’s going on, Marty? Do you think she did a really good job of fooling us all? With that computer and telly and now these flights—she’s definitely not broke! Maybe money was the motive after all.”
He shook his head, obviously as confused as she was. “She wasn’t broke, but whoever murdered her can’t have been after her money. If they were then they’re eejits. Even if they did get cash, why not take the telly and computer?”
Fiona shook her head. “Maybe there was so much cash they didn’t feel the need to come back?”
“Or maybe,” Marty said, with a voice that made his sister shiver. “They didn’t have the transportation that day. It was broad daylight after all.”
“I don’t like it,” Fiona said with a shudder.
“It’s grand,” her brother said, starting to flick through the envelopes again. “They obviously didn’t want the computer if they smashed it like that. Only a complete fool would come back here when the guards are still treating it as a crime scene.”
Full Irish Murder (Fiona McCabe Mysteries Book 2) Page 3