A Very Merry Murder

by Cindy Kline

  The rain had reduced to a drizzle, so Molly opted to put up her hood rather than use her umbrella and ran for the door. The security officer differed from whom she met previously, so she waited until the gentleman was off the phone before stepping up to the counter.

  “Welcome to Moore Plastics. How may I help you?” the man said with a smile.

  Molly smiled back, a hint of recognition coming to the forefront of Molly’s mind. “Mr. Hoffman?”

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, then an enormous smile appeared. “Molly Quinn? Is that you, me lass?” He came out from behind the counter and swallowed Molly in a big hug. “Why, look at you. You’re all grown up! What have you been doing with yourself? It’s been what? At least twenty years since I’ve seen ya. My, didn’t you turn out to be a pretty one. The last time I saw you, you were as skinny as a rail and had braces on your teeth!”

  Sergeant Hoffman had been the Garda officer when she was quite young. He’d been around for as long as she could remember. “I’m doing well. I thought you retired. What are you doing here?”

  “I retired, but I was bored with nothing to do after my Missy died, so when this place opened up, they were looking for a security guard, and here I am.”

  “It’s so good to see you!” Before she could continue, the phone rang.

  “Just a minute, lass. Let me get the phone.”

  He strode back behind the desk and picked up the receiver. While he was talking, she took a good look at him. He’d grown older, of course, and now sported a bald head, and his thick eyebrows were completely gray. A large man, he’d always scared the heck out of her when she was young. Mr. Hoffman had been a good friend of her grandfather’s back then, along with Callum’s uncle, Patrick, also in the Garda.

  He finished his phone call and asked, “So what can I do for ya, young lady?”

  “I have an appointment at ten with Megan Hill.”

  “Aye. Are you, by chance, Molly McGuire now?”

  “I am, yes. Did she ask you to look for me?”

  “She left you a package and asked me to give you her sincerest apologies. She had to leave the office for the rest of the day, but was wondering if you could call to reschedule.”

  “Oh, of course. I hope nothing serious.”

  He leaned in a bit and lowered his voice. “Her son called all upset, and she rushed out to pick him up from Listowel University. It seems his car won’t start.”

  Molly said goodbye to Mr. Hoffman and ran back to her car, trying to guard the package of newsletters from the rain. Even though she would be very early, she headed to the bookstore.

  Ten minutes later, Molly was sitting in the lunchroom at the Book Nook, a fresh pot of tea, two bags of cinnamon muffins and one bag of cookies in front of her. The bag holding two rolls reminded her of Henry, and she found she couldn’t touch them, so she warmed up the roll from earlier in the week, hoping it would soften up enough to be edible. She was just about to open the envelope of newsletters when she received a text message. Looking at her phone, she got a large grin on her face. It was from Talia Parker, the teenager who worked for her during the summer. She was home from college for their holiday break, and if they needed her help, she could start work that day. Molly texted back for her to come in at noon if she could.

  Molly continued to open the flap of the envelope when there was a knock at the door. She looked at her watch; it was only half-past ten. Who on earth could that be? She got up and went to the front door, frowning when she saw who it was, but opened the door anyway.

  “Keith, what are you doing here?” He took off his coat and hat and ran his fingers through his hair to flatten it out, then looked around and hung his coat up on the coat rack in the corner.

  “I came to see you, of course,” He leaned in to kiss her, and she dodged him by turning around and locking the front door back up.

  “I had hoped you’d left. Did you contact your lawyer?” Instead of answering, he rubbed his hands together and then blew on them. “Would you like a cup of tea?” She turned and walked toward the back room.

  “Nice place you have here. I heard some old lady left it to you in her will. That was nice of her.”

  Molly shook her head. What on earth did she ever see in him? “That ‘old lady,’ as you call her, was a very wonderful woman who put her heart and soul into this shop and left it to me because of my love of books.”

  They walked into the back room, and he looked around. “Hey, you have a coffee pot. Can I have coffee instead?”

  “We aren’t Neanderthals here in Ireland, Keith. Some people drink coffee instead of tea.”

  Molly pulled out the coffee tray underneath the pot, pulled out a pod and then shut it. It wouldn’t go all the way in, and she realized she was going to fix it but had forgotten. She pulled a cup out of the cupboard, put the pod in the unit and hit the button, and while she waited for it to brew, she pulled the drawer out all the way to see why it wouldn’t close.

  “What the?” She pulled out the thumb drive and looked at it. It was plain white, no markings, nothing to give her a clue what was on it. How did it get in there? She put the drive on the counter, pulled the cup out and handed it to Keith. Sitting back down, she took a sip of her tea. Then she took the pot and added some additional tea, as it had cooled off a little.

  “What’s that?” Keith asked, pointing to the envelope.

  “Moore Plastics newsletters,” Molly opened it and pulled out a stack. “Apparently, a lot of them.”

  “Why do you have those?” He took a sip of his coffee.

  “Well, if you must know, DI Elliott is looking at me for Henry Pierce’s attempted murder, and since I didn’t do it, I thought I might try to find out who did. The problem is, I don’t know any of the players, so I’m hoping that reading these might give me a clue who might want to kill him.”

  “If you’d like, I can help. Hand me a few.” He held out his hand.

  Her eyebrows raised, “Are you sure?” Molly split the stack and handed him the bottom half.

  “What exactly are we looking for?” Keith asked, taking a sip of his coffee as he opened the first issue.

  Molly remembered she had put the notebook she’d used when Imogen was there on the counter, so she grabbed it, along with a pen, and wrote down some names, then handed the list to Keith. “Here are the key players that I’m aware of,” she went down the list and named off Ronan, Henry, Megan, and Craig, explaining who each of them was. “So, anything having to do with any of them, I guess. Like I said, I’m just trying to find out more about them all. Just write down anything you learn that may sound interesting, I guess.”

  For the next thirty minutes, the two of them went through the newsletters, each jotting down anything they learned about the key people she’d named. Not that Molly was looking for a giant “this person did it” on the front page; she was hoping to come up with something.

  Molly heard voices coming from the store, and she looked at the clock. “It’s eleven-forty-five already?” She looked at the table, covered in issues of “Moore’s News,” a catchy title, she thought. A few minutes later, Ciara and Talia walked in, giggling. Molly got up and gave her a big hug.

  “Talia, it’s so wonderful to see you!” She held her at arm’s length. “The kids will love your shirt,” The red turtleneck had a picture of Santa on it, which she’d paired with black leggings tucked into black boots. Molly pulled Talia into a hug again. “I’m so glad you came back.”

  “Me too, Miss Molly. Thank you for taking me back. I wasn’t sure when I left this summer if you’d still need me with Miss Ciara here now.”

  Ciara was looking at the newsletters spread on the table. “What are you two up to?” She looked from Molly to Keith.

  “Oh, Talia, this is my ex-husband, Keith. Keith, this is Talia Parker. She’s a freshman at Trinity College, on holiday break right now.”

  Keith smiled, “Actually, I’m still her husband, although she seems to forget that. Talia, it’s nice
to meet you.”

  Talia beamed, and Molly realized he was turning on the charm. That could be lethal to a young woman.

  Ciara started laughing. “Oh, my goodness. Did you notice this?” She picked up an issue and showed it to Molly. “It’s their issue with their Halloween festivities. Look at this picture,” she pointed to a picture with four people, their arms around each other, all dressed in different costumes.

  “What about it?” Molly asked.

  She pointed to a photo of a woman in a long black dress and a black, curly wig with full makeup. “Doesn’t that look like Imogen?”

  “It is Imogen, isn’t it?”

  “Look closer.” Molly’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.”

  Talia and Keith tried to look at it, so Molly turned it around for them to look. “It’s actually a man dressed up to look like Imogen!”

  Talia looked and smiled. “Oh, look. There’s a woman who’s dressed up like a man. What a great idea for a costume. I must remember that for next year!”

  Molly looked closer and saw it was Megan, dressed up like Henry! She read the caption. “First place for best costumes, Craig Wilson and Megan Hill.”

  “What are you doing with these?” She fingered a newsletter. Are these from Moore Plastics?”

  Ciara nodded. “It’s another mystery Molly has engrossed herself in.”

  “I heard what happened to Mr. Pierce at school.”

  “At school? Really?” Ciara asked.

  “I’m kind of…dating Rory Pierce,” she smiled. “He’s really broken up about his father. After Rory dropped me off, he went to the hospital to see his ma. She hasn’t left the hospital since it happened.”

  Ciara and Molly both stood there with their mouths open. Molly finally closed hers, then Ciara said, “Please let him know that Molly had nothing to do with any of it, even though DI Elliott thinks so.”

  It was Talia’s turn for her mouth to drop open, so Molly spent the next several minutes explaining what had happened over the past few days. “So, as you can see, Talia, I had no reason at all to try to kill him.”

  “I wouldn’t think you would, Miss Molly. You’re not a killer. You like to find them. Just do us all a favor this time.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Please don’t get shot.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Molly smiled at Talia. “I’ll do my best,” but now I’d like to ask you a favor.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “I’d like to speak to Rory. Do you think you could arrange that?” Molly didn’t feel quite right about dragging Talia into this mess, but it was too good of an opportunity to miss.

  Talia looked at the three of them, their eyes all on her. “He’s picking me up at five. I could text him and ask him to come a few minutes early. Would that work?”

  Molly put her arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “That would be perfect. You’re an angel.”

  Talia chuckled. “This angel had better get to work, so she doesn’t get fired.” She left Molly’s side, and she and Ciara left the breakroom. Molly heard Ciara say to her, “We’ve upgraded the register, so let me show you the changes.”

  Molly sat back down at the table, very thankful for her friends. She looked at Keith, and he had a startled look on his face. “What’s wrong, Keith?”

  He shook his head as if to shake off a thought. “You’re really happy here, aren’t you?” He closed the newsletter he’d been reading.

  She looked at her…Keith. It’s funny how she just didn’t think of him as her husband any longer. He was very good looking: his sandy blonde hair, his vivid blue eyes and a smile that made you think you were the only one in the world he wanted to talk to. “I am, Keith.” She took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going back to America. It took your affair to make me realize I wasn’t very happy there. I missed my family and friends. I missed Ireland.”

  “I’m sorry about the affair.” He squeezed her hand.

  “The affair hurt; I won’t pretend it didn’t. It was more who it was. I just never suspected…”

  He hung his head. “Me neither. I don’t know what to do, Molly.”

  “I think you need to take a good, long look at yourself and decide what to do. America is much more accepting of things than they used to be. There may be some fallout, but I bet you, in the long run, you’ll find out no one cares.”

  “You really are a very special person. You know that?” He gave her hand one last squeeze and then pulled it away. “Back to work here. They really did like Halloween, didn’t they?” He held out another newsletter with Halloween pictures on the front.

  “What year is that?” Molly asked.

  Keith looked closer at it. “It looks like last year’s issue.” He looked around at the table and the stack they hadn’t even looked at yet. “How many years did she give you?”

  “I didn’t really look. I just pulled them out of the envelope and started reading,” Molly grabbed the stack and peeked at the date on the bottom issue. “Wow, five years’ worth. I wonder…” she pulled it out, and her mouth dropped open. She turned it toward Keith so he could see the front.

  Keith read it aloud, “Memorial issue to Patrick Moore. Who was Patrick Moore?”

  “He was the oldest child and the only son of Ronan Moore, who started the company. Megan told me a little about him. He was killed in a hit-and-run car accident five years ago. They never found out who did it. Megan mentioned how Ronan never really got over it.” Molly turned it back around and started reading.

  “Patrick Ronan Moore, age 53, was struck down on Gillystrom Road, Dublin, on November 3 of this year in an alleged hit-and-run accident at approximately ten o’clock in the evening. Patrick was on his way home from the Dublin Children’s Hospital fundraiser held at one of the prominent hotels in downtown Dublin. No one knows why he was on that road, as it’s a country road, not on the route between downtown and his home located north of Dublin. The investigation is ongoing, but as of now, the police say there are no leads.” Molly continued reading silently. “Craig Wilson, vice-president of Marketing at Moore Plastics and a lifelong friend of Patrick’s, says, ‘I will forever miss him. Patrick was a man you could talk to about anything, and no matter what he was doing, he would stop and give you his full attention.’ As most people know here at Moore Plastics, Patrick, Craig and Henry Pierce were best of friends. Their families spent much time together, including Patrick’s ex-wife, Susan, until she moved to Paris, where she is currently a top fashion designer.” Molly read again in silence, then again, read aloud, “Henry Pierce, VP of Finance, added, ‘Along with Craig, Patrick was my best friend. I don’t know how I would have turned out had I not met Patrick all those years ago. I owe him my life and will miss him every day.’ Henry Pierce is married to Imogen, Patrick’s sister. They have one son, Rory, age thirteen.”

  Molly looked at Keith. “I think we need to speak to Craig Wilson.”

  “What else does it say?” Keith asked.

  Molly skimmed over the rest of the article, “It talks about his life from infancy to adulthood. He didn’t have any children, and it doesn’t look like he ever remarried after he and his wife divorced, then it goes on about his career at Moore Plastics.” She smiled. “It looks like he started out as a mail boy.”

  Molly’s phone buzzed. She picked it up and read it, then looked at Keith. “It’s from Megan, Henry’s assistant, the one who left me these newsletters. She wants to see me.”

  “When?” Keith asked.

  “Now. How would you like to go with me?” She texted Megan back and then gathered up the issues they’d read and stacked them in a pile. She set it next to the pile they hadn’t yet perused.

  “Really? You wouldn’t mind?” Keith set the issues he’d read on top of the pile they’d already gone through.

  She smiled, feeling a lot better about their relationship, “Why not? You might as well be of some use as long as you’re here.”

  “Great. I
walked over here from the pub, so can you drive?”

  Molly looked at him and smiled, “Of course, I’ll drive. Do you think I’d trust my life to someone who has spent his entire driving career driving on the wrong side of the road?”

  # # #

  Keith took one look at Molly’s Land Rover and whistled. “Nice ride. It reminds me of the Jeep you drove back home.”

  “I think that’s why I bought it.” She smiled. “Megan wants us to meet her at her house.” Molly handed him her phone. “What’s the address?”

  Keith read it to Molly, and she punched it into the GPS.

  They were quiet as Molly drove, but she couldn’t help but glance at him now and then. He had a look of deep concentration on his face, so she didn’t want to disturb him. She was a little surprised when he spoke.

  “It is wildly beautiful here, I must admit.”

  Molly looked around. Even in the winter, although technically it wasn’t winter yet, the land was green and vast, the rugged coastline breathtaking. “It’s much different from Michigan, although Michigan is beautiful too.”

  He looked sideways at her, “I left a foot of snow, Molly. Do you even get snow here?”

  She laughed. “It snows. Not as often as in Michigan, and we don’t get nearly as much, but I remember one or two white Christmas’s growing up.”

  Molly pulled into the driveway of a yellow, two-story house in one of the older Dooley neighborhoods. It had stopped raining, and she looked at the sky. “It looks like the clouds are breaking up a little. We may even see some sun today.”

  Keith scoffed, “That would be nice. I thought Michigan was cloudy in the winter. I believe Ireland gets even less sun.”

  Molly didn’t want to tell him he was right, so she kept her mouth shut as they walked up onto the porch and rang the doorbell. After about thirty seconds, Molly looked at Keith. “That’s strange. She just texted me. Where would she have gone?”

  “Maybe she made a quick run to the store? I don’t see another car here.”

  Molly had paid little attention when she’d pulled up, but Keith was right. Megan’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Molly was just about to pull out her phone when they heard a car come down the street. It was Megan’s car, but a young man was driving. Molly recognized Megan’s son, Noah, from the photo on her desk. He pulled into the driveway next to the Land Rover. Another car pulled up behind him but parked in front of the house. Molly looked surprised to see it was Rory Pierce.