Dial P For Poison (Movie Club Mysteries, Book 1): An Irish Cozy Mystery

by Zara Keane

  “Actually,” I said, seizing on this opening, “it’s Philomena that I’d like to talk to you about.”

  Tate’s jaw hardened. “Why? What has she said?”

  “Nothing. Look, you’ve probably heard that I’ve been doing a bit of sleuthing.”

  He gave a snort of laughter. “‘Poking your nose into other people’s business’ is a more accurate description.”

  “Noreen didn’t kill Sandra Walker, but someone did. And I have a feeling her murder is connected to the blind item gossip column.”

  Tate’s shoulders hunched. “What about it?”

  “I’m trying to match items with their subjects.” I waited a moment to let him digest this information and then plunged on. “I heard you were featured in the column.”

  “You heard wrong. I was never mentioned in the column.”

  “Because Sandra offered to keep the item out of the paper in return for money?”

  Tate slammed his fist down on the table, making the stack of papers jump. “Who told you that? Are you sure it wasn’t Philomena?”

  So my guess had been correct—Tate had been on Sandra’s blackmail list. “Philomena was the soul of discretion. How is she mixed up in all of this?”

  Tate’s scowl deepened. “I wish you’d go away and leave me in peace.”

  “And I wish the police would get their act together and drop the charges against my aunt.” I leaned forward in my seat. “If Sandra was blackmailing you, Mr. Tate, you weren’t her only victim.”

  The man stared at his shaking hands and sighed. “I didn’t think I was. That cow had a knack for finding people’s weaknesses.”

  “What did she discover about you? And how was it linked to my aunt?”

  “You’re determined to keep digging, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said firmly. “So you might as well give in gracefully. I’ll keep looking for answers, but I promise I won’t repeat what you tell me to anyone unless it’s relevant for helping clear Noreen’s name.”

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Last academic year, I was absent for three months. The official story was that I was in the hospital. This was true, but what we didn’t add was that the hospital was a rehabilitation clinic.”

  “I see. What were you in for?”

  Cormac Tate stared out the window, a bleak expression on his face. “Alcohol and prescription pills.”

  I released a sharp breath. If Tate had connections to black market drugs, he might have known the effects of Solpodol. “I guess that information wouldn’t go down well with the parents.”

  “Nor with the school board.” The man caught my expression. “Oh, the board knows. There was no avoiding telling them. They were surprisingly understanding and gave me the time I needed for treatment. I returned to my position as principal on the condition that I not relapse. I struck a deal with them. I promised I’d keep seeing a therapist after my release from the clinic and attend regular meetings. And, of course, I wouldn’t relapse.” He grimaced. “That’s the part Sandra discovered. She found me drunk in a ditch one night last June.” He shook his head. “Of all the people on Whisper Island to find me in that state, it had to be her.”

  “And she used this information to blackmail you,” I finished.

  “Yes. If I didn’t pay her a regular monthly sum, she said she’d publish a blind item in her gossip column that everyone would know was about me.” A spasm of anguish passed over his face. “I couldn’t bear the thought of the kids or their parents knowing. They’d lose all respect for me.”

  Sandra had been a piece of work. Despite my belief in justice for all, I couldn’t fault the islanders who regarded Sandra’s demise as good riddance. I focused on Tate. “How does Philomena enter the picture?”

  “Your aunt does a lot of volunteer work with crisis call centers. Seeing as we don’t have a huge population on the island, Dr. Reilly asked her if she’d act as my sponsor.”

  “So that’s why you two have been sneaking around at night.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You knew about that?”

  “I, uh, might have followed her.”

  This elicited a hint of a smile from the moody principal. “Is that so? Does our new police sergeant know you’ve been interrogating his suspects?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sure Sergeant O’Shea wasted no time informing him,” I said breezily. “And why shouldn’t I ask a few questions? There’s no harm in having a chat with my aunt’s friends.”

  “I’m not sure Sergeant Reynolds would agree.” Cormac Tate jerked a thumb at the window. “And speaking of the devil, he’s walking across the schoolyard right now. You might want to make yourself scarce.”

  I leaped to my feet. “Thanks for talking to me, Mr. Tate. Enjoy the rest of your…what is that?” I recoiled at the sight of the hairy-looking object on his plate.

  He looked bemused by my horror. “Scotch eggs. Hard boiled eggs wrapped in sausage meat and coated with breadcrumbs. You should try one sometime. For now, I suggest you run.”

  My efforts at evading Sergeant Reynolds were futile. I tried to dart into a classroom but bashed my shoulder against the locked door. Apparently, even small island schools kept their computer rooms under lock and key. Who knew? Rubbing my sore arm, I sidled along the corridor, hoping to find an unlocked room I could hide in until the danger had passed.

  And then I careened straight into the very muscular chest of Sergeant Reynolds.

  “Whoa,” he said, his bright blue eyes merry and teasing. “We’ve got to stop bumping into one another like this.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said, trying to block the effect he was having on my hormones. “Very funny.”

  He cocked his head to the side and examined me with that half-teasing, half-serious expression that was difficult to read. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  Once again, I disgraced myself by blushing like a preteen. “I…have to be somewhere.”

  “So do I,” he said lightly. “Only I suspect you’ve beaten me to my destination.”

  “What are you talking about?” I tried to look innocent, but my warm cheeks weren’t helping my case.

  “Come on, Ms. Doyle. Confess. You’ve been interrogating Cormac Tate.” He shook his head, but the smile didn’t falter. “You’ve got to stop trying to do the police’s job.”

  I batted my eyelashes at him and ended up blinking wildly, certain my eyelashes were clumped together with mascara. Reynolds stood before me, wearing a bone-melting grin. Just my luck to get saddled with a cute policeman to interfere with my investigation. “The last policeman wasn’t fit for the job,” I said with dignity. “I was the one who figured out Sandra had been poisoned. O’Shea didn’t even bother to save her cocktail glass.”

  “So I gathered,” Reynolds said dryly. “But I’m here now, and the investigation into Sandra Walker’s death is my case. Thank you for the notes you emailed me, but I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the police work to me from now on.”

  I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “Are you making an effort to find the real killer, or just gathering fluff evidence for the prosecution?”

  The amusement in his eyes faded. “I realize this must be hard for you, Ms. Doyle, but you’re not doing your aunt any favors by questioning my witnesses.”

  “Your witnesses? You’ve only started talking to them. I’ve been gathering information for days.”

  “Like I said in the café, if you have anything relevant to tell me, please do. I’m not the enemy here. I want to see justice served, but I can’t allow you to interfere with my case. You have no jurisdiction in Ireland and, from what I hear, none in the U.S. anymore either.”

  My chest swelled in indignation. “I want justice for my aunt and, believe it or not, for Sandra Walker, even if she wasn’t a nice person.”

  “I want the same thing. And it’s my job to make sure they get justice.”

  When he moved past me, I registered how close together we’d been standing since I’d crashed into him.
I exhaled in a whoosh. This man unnerved me, and I didn’t like the sensation.

  Reynolds turned back to face me before he knocked on Cormac Tate’s door. “See you around, Ms. Doyle. I have a feeling we’ll run into each other again before long.” He grinned. “And give that little kitten I took out of the drain a kiss from me.”

  “I will.” It was unreasonable to be jealous of a kitten. I was off men, after all—especially the ones I was attracted to. Next time I dated, I was getting someone I trusted to vet men on my behalf.

  Thoroughly flustered, I marched out of the school and let the wind blow me back to Main Street. When I reached Noreen’s car, Lenny had parked his van behind it and was waiting for me on the pavement. He paced back and forth in a restless dance, his every movement radiating distress.

  “Hey, Lenny. What’s up?”

  “At last.” He jerked to attention when he saw me. “I thought you’d never get back, and you weren’t answering your phone.”

  “I had it with me.” I slipped my phone from my jacket pocket. Four missed calls, all from Lenny. I frowned. In my state of agitation after my encounter with Sergeant Hottie, I must have forgotten to check my messages. “What’s wrong?”

  Lenny darted a look up and down the street and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Remember I gave Sandra a lift the night she was murdered?”

  “Yeah. She wanted you to install a new RAM chip on her laptop, and insisted you collected it that night.”

  “Right. And when she got it from her home office, I put it in the back of my van, on top of all the rest of my gear. I always have a ton of cables, computer parts, and accessories in there, but I had more stuff than usual that night because I was in charge of setting up the film equipment. I had to pack the car, unpack it outside the café, and then pack it up again at the end of the night.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. What happened?”

  “A couple of laptops were among the stuff in the back of my van. I’d picked them out of the recycling bin at my parents’ shop and I wanted to salvage parts. Between one thing and another, I hadn’t gotten around to working on them until today.”

  My heart rate kicked up a notch. “Go on.”

  “Well, when I started working on one of the laptops, I realized it still worked. I had a bad feeling about it, so I tried out a few passwords.” He turned pale. “Maggie, the laptop belonged to Sandra. When I got the laptop out of my van the night she died, I grabbed the one on top. Sandra’s was the same make and model as the one I wanted to take apart, and I guess they got mixed up in the confusion of me packing and unpacking the van.”

  I exhaled in a whoosh. “Wow. Did—?” I clamped down on the rest of my question when the café door opened. Joan and Sister Pauline stepped onto the pavement, Joan clutching her daily take-out bag and the nun hauling an enormous bag from which an assortment of knitting needles protruded.

  “Hello.” Sister Pauline looked at Lenny and me in turn. “Anything the matter? You two look worried.”

  “Has there been news from that new police officer who’s taken over the case?” Joan asked, wide-eyed. “I hear he’s less of a fool than his predecessor.”

  “We’re fine.” I forced a smile. “No news on the case, I’m afraid.”

  Sister Pauline tut-tutted. “A dreadful business. I can’t believe poor Noreen was dragged into this.”

  Much as I liked both Joan and Sister Pauline, I wasn’t in the mood for a chat. I forced a smile. “I’m sure it’ll all turn out fine in the end. Listen, I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you in the café tomorrow.”

  “I told Noreen I’d help her knead bread,” Sister Pauline said. “I love making soda bread.”

  “See you soon,” Joan said, and urged the nun to cross the road.

  When they were out of earshot, I turned to Lenny. “Did you manage to access Sandra’s files?”

  He gave me a look of scorn. “What do you take me for? Of course I did. That’s why I’m here.” He blew out a breath. “Maggie, there’s something you need to see.”

  22

  My heart pounded against my ribs. “What did you find?”

  “Not here,” Lenny said. “Meet me at your aunt’s cottage. We’ll have privacy there.”

  For loud-mouthed Lenny to show discretion, the situation must be severe. “Okay. I’ll drive there right away.”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  I got into the car and started the engine. When I pulled out into the traffic, Joan and Sister Pauline were outside the gallery, staring after me. Both wore concerned expressions. I forced a smile and waved at them. I had no idea how long Lenny had been waiting for me and pacing in front of his van, but he’d aroused their curiosity and presumably the interest of the people currently inside the café. And given that everyone on Whisper Island knew I was conducting an unofficial investigation into Sandra Walker’s murder, ten to one they’d guessed that Lenny had discovered something of importance.

  When I pulled up in front of Aunt Noreen’s cottage, Lenny was already there, clutching the laptop in his arms and bouncing on the spot. He must have put the pedal to the metal to beat me here. Bran danced around his legs, thrilled to have company.

  “Easy, tiger.” I inserted the key into the lock. “You’re like a man walking over hot coals.”

  “Are you referring to me or the dog?”

  When I opened the door, Bran shot inside. Lenny tumbled after him. “You’re dancing on the spot like a toddler in need of a pee,” I said. “Deep breaths, Lenny.”

  “This is important, Maggie. And I don’t know what to do with this information.”

  When I led him into the kitchen, Bran was waiting for us, panting. I grabbed a pair of disposable rubber gloves that my aunt kept above the sink.

  “What are those for?” Lenny asked, taking a seat at the table.

  I quirked an eyebrow. “You have an excuse for having your fingerprints all over the laptop. I don’t.”

  I put the gloves on and took the seat next to Lenny’s. He fired up the laptop and clicked on a folder labeled Taxes.

  “It was the only folder on Sandra’s laptop that was password protected, so I got suspicious. I know I should have left it the moment I realized whose laptop I was looking at, but I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I presume Sandra doesn’t have her tax info in that folder,” I said dryly.

  Lenny shook his head. “She’s got a bunch of unpublished blind items in there. Much worse than any that got published. Although no names are mentioned, it’s easy to guess who she’s referring to. I’ve only had time to read through a few, but that was enough to set off alarm bells.”

  I scanned the screen and whistled. “Twenty-four unpublished blind items hidden in a password-protected folder. That could mean twenty-four potential blackmail victims.”

  “Exactly.” Lenny’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “There’s a bunch of blinds in here that could drive a person to murder. I didn’t have time to take notes. I figured you’d take care of that.”

  My lips twitched. “Seeing how much I love my notebooks and pens?”

  “Right.” Lenny frowned at the screen. “There’s all sorts of crazy stuff in here. Everything from a married man having a gay affair to a bigamist who cheated her late husband’s family out of their rightful inheritance.”

  “Sounds like material for a daytime soap,” I said. “Which one alarmed you?”

  “This one.” Lenny clicked on a file. “It’s about a nun who has a secret son.”

  “Let me read it.”

  Lenny angled the screen in my direction, and I scanned the blind. Which nun has a secret son?

  My mind instantly turned to the published blind item concerning a nun stealing from the church collection box, and then back to a conversation I’d had with Aunt Noreen when I’d first arrived on the island. What was it she’d said about Sister Pauline? Something about her having had a life before she became a nun… Could that life have included a baby?

  I drummed a restl
ess rhythm on the kitchen table. I needed to think, and I didn’t want to mention my suspicions to Lenny until I was sure. With the low number of nuns living on the island, he’d probably drawn his own conclusions. “We should bring the laptop to the police.”

  “Yeah. But not before I make a backup copy of that folder. Actually, I’ll make two.” Lenny withdrew two portable flash drives from his pocket and inserted them into the laptop. “I’ll leave a backup copy with you to work through, and then I’ll take the laptop straight to the station. When I get home, I’ll read through the rest of the items. Between the two of us, we should be able to figure out who they’re referring to.” A few minutes later, the backup copies were complete, and Lenny packed up the laptop. “I’d better get moving. I feel more comfortable handing the laptop over to Sergeant Reynolds than I would have if Sergeant O’Shea was still in charge of the case.”

  “I agree. Let me know if there’s any news.”

  “Will do. And ditto if you discover anything interesting among those blind items.”

  Lenny scratched Bran behind the ears and ambled out to his van. Unburdening himself to me had restored some of his nonchalance and good humor. I wished our encounter had done the same for me.

  Lenny had just gotten into his van and driven off when another vehicle pulled into the yard, triggering a series of enthusiastic barks from Bran. I bit back a curse and shoved the flash drive into my pocket. I’d wanted time to look through the blind items, but they’d have to wait.

  My stomach lurched when I saw who got out of the car.

  “Hello, Maggie.” Sister Pauline wore a sunny smile on her craggy face, but it failed to warm the cold horror seeping through my bones.

  “Uh, hi,” I said and removed my hand from my pocket.

  “I was wondering if I could have a word with you.” The nun’s serene smile was belied by a hard glint in her eyes. “And I wanted it to be away from the prying eyes at the café. People do love to gossip.”

  “Yes, they do.” I hovered on the doorstep, running through my options. “I guess you’d better come in.”