by Zara Keane
My aunt tugged at the cross she wore around her neck. “Have you heard about Sandra’s body? It’s been released to her family for burial. After all the drama, they’re keeping the funeral to family only.”
“Any news on the preliminary toxicology report?”
“Not that I’ve heard.” She gave me a wan smile. “I feel bad worrying about my lack of customers when Sandra’s moving into the graveyard. She was an awful old biddy, but she didn’t deserve to die.”
“Why don’t we watch a movie this evening and get an early night?” I asked. “Something silly. Maybe a romantic comedy.”
“I’d like that, but I’d like my customers to come back even more.”
“They’ll be back once we know what happened to Sandra.” I squeezed her arm. “Why don’t you sit down and let me horrify you with my terrible tea-making skills?”
This remark elicited a small smile. “All right. Let’s see what you can do to a cup of Earl Grey.”
I performed a mock salute. “Coming right up.”
“Oh, before I forget. Joan Sweetman asked me if we could drop over a smoothie and a sandwich to her before two o’clock. She’s stuck in the gallery all day on her own and can’t get away.”
“No problem. I’ll go over once I’ve made your tea.”
Fifteen minutes later, I knocked on the door of Joan’s gallery and stepped inside. The gallery specialized in modern art and sculptures. I shuddered at a painting of boats sailing into what looked like a woman’s private parts. I peered at the label. Smuggler’s Cove Harbor — Maria Reilly. The doctor’s wife had weird taste.
“Hideous, isn’t it?” said a voice behind me. “But the tourists love Maria’s work.” Joan took the sandwich and smoothie from my hands. “Thanks for delivering, Maggie. My assistant is down with the flu and I couldn’t get away.”
“No problem.” I hesitated a moment and then said, “I suppose you’ve heard about Sandra’s body being released for burial?”
“Yes.” Joan shuddered. “Awful business. Many people loathed the woman, but I can’t imagine who’d want to kill her.”
“We’re still waiting on the toxicology results,” I cautioned. “We don’t know if it was murder yet. And even if codeine is found in her body, we can’t rule out the possibility that she took it herself.”
“Suicide? Oh, no. Not Sandra.”
“So everyone says. Did you know Sandra well?”
“As well as I wished to. I couldn’t stand her.” Joan met my gaze. “I’ve heard you’re looking into what happened.”
“Not officially, but with Noreen’s café being involved, I feel obliged to make sure Sergeant O’Shea is doing his job.”
Joan laughed. “He never does his job. He’s far more concerned with golf, food, and—if rumors are correct—his mistress. Mark my words, if anything is found in Sandra’s blood, the district superintendent will send reinforcements.”
“Did you read the blind gossip column Sandra is alleged to have written?”
Joan’s slim shoulders stiffened. “No. That rubbish wasn’t fit to be published. Sean Clough should have had more sense, but he saw an opportunity to make money.”
“Did you ever guess the identity of any of the people mentioned in the blind items?” I asked carefully. “I mean, most seemed fairly harmless.”
“Not all were harmless.” Joan’s voice cracked.
“I’m so sorry,” I said gently. “Were you mentioned in one of them?”
Joan took a halting breath. “Yes. Total nonsense, but it caused me a lot of embarrassment.”
I thought back on the list of blind items I’d read in the library. “There were a couple about widows…”
Joan touched her wedding band and twisted it. “About a year ago, the paper published a blind item that implied an island widow was having an affair with her stepson. As I have two stepsons and ticked the other checkboxes in the item, a rumor spread that the blind item was about me.”
“How awful.”
She smoothed the front of her pencil skirt and took a shuddery breath. “What hurt the most was seeing people I’d known for years sniggering behind my back. I don’t even think they believed the blind item was true, but it was a salacious piece of gossip to amuse themselves with.”
“People can be cruel,” I said.
“Indeed.” She pulled her shoulders back and was once again in cool and collected businesswoman mode. “Hurtful though it was, I wouldn’t kill someone over a rumor. I don’t know who killed Sandra, but I can’t help thinking she pushed someone too far.”
Joan might well be correct in her assessment, but her revelation brought me no closer to figuring out who that person was. “Thanks for sharing your story with me.”
The older woman nodded. “No problem. I like Noreen, and I’m sorry she and her café are involved in this nasty business.”
“Enjoy your lunch. I’d better get back to my aunt.”
After I’d said goodbye to Joan, I walked back across the street to The Movie Theater Café. I’d barely had time to take off my jacket when Sergeant O’Shea barged into the café, wearing a triumphant smirk on his plump face. My heart sank. A big fish who had his small pond threatened could be vicious.
“You were right, Ms. Doyle,” he said, his voice dripping smugness. “The preliminary toxicology report indicates that Sandra Walker died of a massive codeine overdose.”
The words brought no comfort to me. I swore fluently.
The sergeant raised his bushy eyebrows. “Such language.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “I guess this isn’t a friendly visit to pass on the news.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You have my phone number. I figure even you can figure out how to punch in a few numbers.”
The smug smile vanished, replaced by the purple hue I’d grown accustomed to seeing on Sergeant O’Shea’s face. His nostrils quivered, drawing my attention to a piece of snot dangling from one side. It was hard to believe that this slug had graduated from police academy and slimed his way into a comfy position on Whisper Island.
“Once again, you’re right, Ms. Doyle. This isn’t a social call.” The smirk slid back into place, and he turned to my aunt. “Noreen Doyle, I’m here to arrest you on suspicion of murder.”
15
Cold dread seeped through my body. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m perfectly serious.” Sergeant O’Shea dangled handcuffs in front of my aunt. “Now be sensible, Noreen, and let me put these on.”
My aunt stared at him with a look of defiance and held out her wrists. “Go right ahead, but you’re making a mistake. For heaven’s sake, Colm. We’ve known each other for fifteen years. Do you believe I’m stupid enough to commit murder in my own café and using my prescription medicine?”
A momentary doubt flickered across the sergeant’s fleshy features, but he soon had it under control. “You had the means, the opportunity, and a motive. That’s good enough for me.”
“Everyone at the meeting that night had the means and the opportunity,” I snapped. “And from what I’ve heard, a number of them had a motive. Noreen’s purse was on the floor by her table. It would have been easy to remove the bottle of Solpodol and steal a few pills. Sandra could have left her glass unattended, and someone spiked it.”
“Did you see Sandra put her glass down somewhere?” he demanded.
“Well, no, but I was busy making cocktails, and there were a lot of people in the café that night.”
“In that case, we’ll be on our way.” The policeman yanked my aunt to her feet and hauled her toward the café door.
“Wait a sec,” I called. “Please tell me you’re following other leads.”
Sergeant O’Shea pulled open the door and shoved my aunt outside. “I’ve left no stone unturned in my inquiries, and I’m confident I’ve got the culprit.”
I ran to the door and met my aunt’s eyes as O’Shea shoved her into the back of h
is squad car. “I’ll call a lawyer.”
She opened her mouth as if to respond, but her words were lost when Sergeant O’Shea slammed the door. With a self-satisfied smirk, the policeman slid behind the wheel and took off. In a daze, I let the café door slide shut. I’d been afraid the sergeant would do something rash, but I hadn’t reckoned on him acting this quickly.
“Take a seat, dear,” Miss Flynn said, catching my arm. “You’ve had an awful shock.”
“This is an outrage,” thundered Gerry One. “That man is a buffoon.”
“He’s a buffoon with power,” I said grimly, “and he intends to use it.”
“We all know Noreen wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’ll have to let her go the moment her lawyer shows up.” Miss Flynn patted my hand, while Miss Murphy fetched a clean cup and poured me tea laced with enough sugar to float a battleship.
Miss Murphy shoved the cup in front of me. “Drink up.”
“Thank you.” Unthinking, I took a sip and winced when the hot liquid burned my tongue.
“That man is an even bigger fool than I’d given him credit for,” Miss Murphy said. “Why would Noreen put her business at risk by killing one of her customers? It makes no sense.”
“Yeah, but that’s because we know her.” I stirred my tea on autopilot. “Movies and mystery novels love talking about motive, but regular police work is more concerned with means and opportunity. We tend to look at the motive last, and even then, it doesn’t play a huge role in convicting someone.”
“Surely you’re not defending that fool of a policeman?” Miss Murphy demanded.
“No, but I’m saying what Noreen’s lawyer will tell her once I hire one.”
“Call around to Nesbitt & Son,” Miss Flynn said. “If Aaron or Jennifer are in, I’m sure one of them will go with you to the station. Noreen needs a solicitor, and there’s no time to wait for a specialist from the mainland to arrive.”
“Doesn’t she need a barrister?” I asked in confusion. “I thought they dealt with trials. Patricia McConnell went with her when she was questioned a few days ago.”
“Because Patricia happened to be on the island at the time and is a trial lawyer,” Gerry Two interjected. “What Noreen needs now is a solicitor who specializes in criminal law, but of course we don’t have anyone like that on Whisper Island. But Aaron and Jennifer will know what to do and can represent Noreen’s interests until the other solicitor gets here.”
I took another sip of my tea, blowing first this time. “Thanks for the tip and the tea. I’ll call Lenny and Kelly to see if one of them can look after the café. Once that’s taken care of, I’ll go straight over to Nesbitt & Son and get moving on finding Noreen a lawyer.”
Kelly responded to my plea for help and agreed to run the café until closing time. Despite her aloof demeanor, Jennifer Pearce also came to my rescue, and she and I were soon sitting in the police station with my aunt. On the basis that it hadn’t yet been established with one hundred percent certainty that Sandra had died of a codeine overdose, Jennifer persuaded O’Shea to allow me a visit alone with my aunt. I was pretty sure this was against regulations, but O’Shea was a haphazard cop at the best of times, and being confronted with a slick solicitor with killer cleavage put him at a disadvantage. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him when I passed.
Noreen appeared to have shrunk in the two hours since I’d last seen her. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat, and her usually rosy cheeks held no hint of color. “Thanks for organizing Jennifer, love,” she said when I sat down. “I don’t know how much good she can do, but I appreciate the effort.”
“She’s doing an excellent job at managing O’Shea. He doesn’t know where to look. And she’s called a friend in Cork who specializes in criminal law. She’s due to arrive later today.”
My aunt’s pale blue eyes filled with tears. “I never thought it would come to this. O’Shea’s an eejit, but I felt sure he’d get the person who killed Sandra.”
“I’m going to keep digging, Noreen. Don’t give up hope.”
My aunt gave me a wobbly smile. “There’s something you don’t know, love. It’s the reason O’Shea latched onto me as the culprit.”
My head snapped to attention. “What?”
My aunt nodded. “Sandra was the pen behind the gossip column. She came to me several months ago and informed me she’d found out I’d told a few white lies on my mortgage application when I wanted to buy and renovate the movie theater.”
I sucked in a breath. “Is this true?”
My aunt blushed. “Yes. I’m not proud of what I did, but I knew I’d never get the loan or the planning permission if I revealed I’d already had to borrow money from your father to keep myself afloat. I convinced them that that money was earnings from my petting zoo, and I…well—” she coughed, “—might have forged a few papers.”
My heart sank. This was much worse than I’d thought. It pained me to think it, but if I were in Sergeant O’Shea’s position, Noreen would have moved into the position of Suspect Number One the moment I’d learned of the forgery and deceit. “How did Sandra find out about it?”
My aunt’s hands curled into fists. “She brought her grandchildren to the petting zoo one day and asked me to show them around. In the meantime, she used the opportunity to have a root through my private papers, and put two and two together.”
“Wow. She was that brazen?”
“Oh, yeah.” Noreen’s lips twisted. “She might have wondered how I convinced the bank to give me a loan, but I doubt she suspected what I’d done. She was nosy. Poking through people’s stuff was what she did.”
“Did Sandra threaten to write a blind item about your…deception?”
My aunt looked at me directly. “About my fraud, you mean? Yes, she did.”
“But none appeared in the paper.”
Noreen dropped her gaze to her fingernails. “That’s correct.”
I sighed. “Was Sandra Walker blackmailing you?”
“Yes.” The word came out in a whisper. My aunt blinked back tears. “So you see, Maggie, it’s hopeless. I’ll never convince the guards I didn’t do it.”
I leaned back in my chair and blew out a breath. This was much worse than I’d thought. “So that’s why you’ve been having money problems and taking on extra jobs.”
“Yes. It’s true that business is slower at the café during the winter, but I knew that when I opened the place, and I budgeted accordingly.” A hint of bitterness entered her tone. “What I didn’t budget for was blackmail. Sandra was bleeding me dry. It had gotten to the point that I was considering turning myself in and throwing myself on the bank’s mercy not to press charges.”
If she’d done so, she’d have risked losing the café. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and exhaled a sigh. “Noreen, I’m going to ask you this once, because I have to, especially given what you’ve just told me. Did you kill Sandra Walker?”
My aunt looked me straight in the eye. “No, I didn’t.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Okay. The picture is bleak, yes, but all it means is that I’m right to keep digging. We both know O’Shea won’t bother.”
A knock on the door made me jerk around. The reserve policeman who’d shown me in stood in the doorway. “I’ll have to ask you to leave, Ms. Doyle.”
“Give me two more minutes, and I’m out of here. I need to ask my aunt some details for her solicitor.” A blatant lie, but whatever worked. I batted my eyelashes, and the young man turned fiery red.
“Uh, okay.” His gaze darted down the hallway. “Sergeant O’Shea will be in here any second. You’d better make it fast.”
After he’d closed the door behind him, I spoke quickly. “The night of the murder, can you remember who sat near you when you were out in the café? I’m pretty sure that’s when the codeine ended up in Sandra’s cocktail. If someone had spiked it in the movie theater, there wouldn’t have been enough time to kill her before the end of the movie.
”
My aunt frowned. “I’ve wracked my brain trying to remember all the details. I sat at Bette Davis with Sister Pauline, Philomena, and John. Brid Kelly sat with us for a while, but left to chat with Paul and Melanie after they’d arrived. I had my handbag with me the whole time.”
“Did you go to the restroom at any point?”
“I can’t remember. No, wait…yes, I did. I went with Philomena just before the film began.”
“Did you bring your purse with you?”
She screwed up her brow. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I can’t remember. I was groggy from the medication. I probably didn’t bring the bag with me. Among friends, I don’t think twice about leaving it at the table.”
“In other words, anyone could have accessed your bag while you were gone.” I frowned. “But ‘just before the film began’ is late in the time frame. It’s more likely that Sandra’s first cocktail was spiked, not her second.”
A second knock sounded on the door. “The boss is on his way,” the young reserve said. “Time to make tracks.”
We got to our feet. I hugged my aunt, taking comfort in her familiar talcum powdery smell. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, Noreen. Just hang tight.”
Her smile was wobbly. “Thanks, Maggie. I’m so glad you’re here.”
16
After visiting my aunt, I got into the car and drove toward her cottage. I needed to track down her farmer pal, Paddy Driscoll, and ask if he’d help me look after her animals, and I was due to meet Julie for an evening run.
The views on the drive from Smuggler’s Cove to my aunt’s house were spectacular, but I barely noticed them today, and not merely because it was already dark. My mind mulled over what Noreen had told me. An uncomfortable weight pressed down on my shoulders. I loved my aunt, and I wanted to believe her. In my gut, I did believe she hadn’t killed Sandra, but I’d been a cop too long not to have a lingering doubt. I’d seen many investigations go south because a cop was blinded by prejudice and determined to be for or against a particular suspect. If I wanted to do right by my aunt, and by the dead woman, I had to force myself to remain impartial and weigh all the evidence, however unpleasant.