Murder at an Irish Wedding Page 18

  “The abbey,” Susan said with a shiver. “I still can’t believe you want to have the wedding there.”

  “I think it’s lovely.”

  “At least Antoine and Brian were able to meet the champagne shipment in Limerick today,” Siobhán said casually, watching Susan carefully for a reaction. Oh, that Botoxed face. It was impossible to see any change of expression on the woman at all.

  “Champagne shipment to Limerick?” Alice said. “I thought the champagne had already been delivered to the castle?”

  “We don’t know where the Huntsmans were storing it,” Susan said. “So we had to scramble at the last minute to get a new shipment in.”

  She was quick on her feet, Siohban had to give her that. “It was mighty nice of you to use Martin’s transport company,” Siobhán continued.

  This time Siobhán could read Susan’s expression: pure rage.

  “You did?” Alice said. She’d clearly been left in the dark.

  “He’s family now, isn’t it?” Susan said.

  Alice threw herself into her mother’s arms and hugged her. When she released her, Susan stumbled back, her expression even more horrified than before. Like hugging a cactus, Siobhán supposed. She felt another grip of grief as she immediately felt one of her mother’s warm hugs wrap around her.

  As Alice and Susan were ordering the flowers, Brenna clutched Siobhán’s arm, then dragged her out the door and onto the footpath.

  “You’re hurting me,” Siobhán said. Charleville was much busier than Sarsfield Street would have been, with numerous folks going in and out of shops and restaurants. It was the warmest day they’d had so far, and Siobhán had a sudden urge to go for a run. Or have a basket of curried chips. Yes, she’d much rather have the chips.

  Brenna waved her hand in front of Siobhán’s face until she looked at her. “Have the guards said anything to you or yer man about me?”

  “Like what?”

  Brenna’s expression belied her impatience. “About me and Kevin in the same bed that night.”

  “No.” Everyone assumed Siobhán was tapped into the vein of the gardai. Little did they know how ostracized she was.

  “Do you think I’m still a suspect?”

  “Everyone is a suspect.”

  “Even your precious Macdara?”

  Siobhán frowned. Was Brenna threatening her? Had she killed Kevin and planted Macdara’s cap at the crime scene? If Kevin had the cap and Brenna slept with Kevin, she would have had access to it. “What do you care what I think?”

  Brenna clutched Siobhán’s arms. “They have to cancel the wedding. You have to make them.”

  Fear tickled the back of Siobhán’s neck. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Brenna looked away and lowered her voice. “Colm Cahill does not approve.”

  “He’s made that clear.”

  Brenna’s eyes were wide with fear. “He’s never going to let the wedding go on.”

  “Stop talking in riddles. If you want my help, then out with it.”

  Brenna paused as a mother walked by, pushing a stroller. “I hear you’ve been asking around about Ronan’s pictures from that night.”

  “How did you hear that?”

  “Ronan thinks I’m a worthy model.”

  Siobhán rolled her eyes. That man would take a picture of a tree stump and call it art.

  “I can probably get him to invite me into his room,” Brenna continued.

  “I won’t even ask how.”

  “Seduce him, like.”

  “Got it.”

  “He backs all his photos up to his laptop.”

  This was news. “How do you know?”

  “You’re not the only one who keeps her eyes open.”

  “Let’s say you do get hold of his laptop. Then what?”

  “I can transfer them all to a USB while he’s sleeping.”

  “The guards have Ronan’s laptop.”

  Brenna laughed. “You’re so naïve. He has another laptop. I’ve seen it with me own eyes.”

  Siobhán should tell her not to do it. It was too dangerous. Leave it to the guards. “What’s in it for you?”

  “You’ll get your garda friend to protect me.” There it was again, pure panic in Brenna’s voice. Siobhán wished she were a lemon she could squeeze to get the juicy bits.

  “Protection from whom?”

  “Colm Cahill.”

  “Again. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Brenna’s expression finally broke. “I know why Kevin went to the top of the hill that mornin’.”

  “Why?”

  “There was a note.”

  Siobhán tingled. “A note.”

  “It was a total misunderstanding. It wasn’t meant for him.”

  The bell jangled, and Alice and Susan emerged from the flower shop. “There you are,” Alice said. “What are you two whispering about?”

  “Lilies,” Brenna said. “We’re whispering about lilies.”

  Chapter 21

  Siobhán practically had to drag Macdara into Chris Gorden’s comic shop. He didn’t like the Yank, mostly because Chris made no effort to hide his crush on her, but Paul insisted on the clandestine meeting spot. Chris Gorden was at the counter, laughing with a pair of teenaged girls. He had American movie star looks, although she much preferred Macdara’s tousled charm.

  Siobhán and Macdara tried to sneak past the counter. “Hey Siobhán,” Chris called out. They stopped, and it wasn’t lost on Siobhán how the teenaged girls smiled at Chris. They weren’t from Kilbane. Colleens were traveling from Charleville to come to the shop and flirt with the foreign owner. It was highly unlikely that these lassies had come to check into the comics.

  “How ya?” Siobhán called out politely. She could practically feel Macdara simmering behind her.

  Chris’s grin widened. “How’s Ciarán liking his Big Book of Poisons?” Siobhán didn’t want to untangle that knot in this moment, so she smiled and gave Chris a thumbs-up. Chris winked at her. “I have volume two, if he’s interested.”

  “The lad is starting school,” Macdara said. “He shouldn’t be wasting his time with gore.”

  “You’re not a fan then?” Chris said, gesturing around the store.

  Macdara shook his head. “I’m not.”

  Chris folded his arms. “So why are you here?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Now, lads,” Siobhán said. They ignored her.

  Chris folded his arms across his chest. “Graphic novels are a form of art, you know.”

  “Looks to me like you’re promoting nothing but violence,” Macdara said.

  Chris glared. “Mankind has always been dark. Always been violent. You should know that.”

  “I should?” Macdara shifted.

  “Of course. You’re a guard. And you live in a walled town. You think the walls were built for decoration?”

  The girls laughed, and Macdara tensed. “I know me own history. A year ago you probably couldn’t even find Ireland on the map.”

  “Indulging in story is a healthy outlet for violence. Maybe if the killer had read a few comics, he wouldn’t have taken such drastic measures.”

  Macdara shook his head, Siobhán tugged on his sleeve, and they hurried to the back of the store.

  “Good to see you, Siobhán!” Chris called after them. “Drop in anytime. By yourself!”

  “Wanker,” Macdara said.

  Paul was standing in the very back corner of the shop, lurking near a poster dripping with fangs and blood. He almost looked as if he belonged in the pages himself: his hair was uncombed, his face full of stubble, his eyes bloodshot. When he lifted his hand to scratch his chin, it trembled.

  “You look like you’ve lost the plot,” Macdara said. “What’s the story?”

  Paul started to pace the two-foot section. “I wanted to talk where no one else could overhear.”

  As Macdara waited, Siobhán glanced around at the few lads in the shop, all so buried i
n comics they wouldn’t notice an actual zombie apocalypse outside the door. “This should do it,” she said.

  “Do the guards have anything on the killer? Anything at all?” Paul sounded absolutely desperate. Macdara hesitated. Siobhán prayed he wasn’t going to feed Paul any information. “All this business is pushing me over the edge.” Paul’s voice was hoarse.

  “I can imagine,” Siobhán said.

  Paul stepped up to them and threw open his arms. “For the love of God, help me.”

  Siobhán felt a pair of eyes on them and looked up to see Chris Gorden a few feet away, pretending to stack books. Macdara steered them to the next aisle and lowered his voice. “Talk to us.”

  Paul’s face lost all color. “Alice is going to kill me.”

  Macdara’s eyes widened. “Literally?”

  “No, not literally. Well, maybe literally. I certainly wouldn’t blame her.”

  “What did you do?” Siobhán asked.

  Paul looked left and right, then lowered his head. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “I don’t think we should go on with the wedding.”

  Siobhán gasped, and Macdara took a step back. “The past few days you’ve been pushing for it.”

  “I know. I know. I don’t want to hurt Alice.” His voice rose. Macdara placed a finger to his lips. Paul nodded.

  “You don’t want to go on with the wedding this weekend, or you don’t want to go on with the wedding at all?” Macdara whispered.

  Anger welled in Paul’s eyes. “That man.”

  “Colm,” Siobhán said.

  Paul pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “He just offered me a bribe!”

  “You’re joking me,” Macdara said.

  “Name my price, he said. A hundred thousand euros? Two hundred? A million? What was it going to take to get me to walk?”

  “A million?” This time it was Macdara who needed to be shushed. “Surely you’re not considering it?”

  “How could you even ask me that?”

  “You said Alice was going to kill you.”

  “Only because now I’m keeping yet another secret from her.” Paul’s eyes flicked to Siobhán.

  “You can trust her,” Macdara said.

  Yes, Siobhán thought. But can we trust him?

  Paul clenched his fists. “What if that was Colm’s plan all along? Create secrets between us? Wait until the last minute to tell her everything I haven’t told her.” Paul was starting to babble. Chris Gorden came into the aisle. This time he wasn’t holding a stack of books to shelve. He began adjusting books already on the shelf. The trio moved toward the front of the store.

  “You’re not saying you think Colm killed Kevin?” Siobhán blurted out.

  Paul ran his fingers through his hair. “The night before Kevin was killed, he and Colm were speaking in whispers on the back patio.”

  Macdara’s expression told Siobhán that he didn’t like that he was hearing about this now. He didn’t like that his friends were just as capable of lying to guards as everyone else. She would have to make an effort not to say she told him so. “What were they saying?”

  “I missed the beginning. But it was clear that Colm was furious. I think he threatened Kevin.”

  “You think?” Siobhán said.

  “I was just stumbling back to relieve myself, if you must know. I didn’t realize Colm and Kevin were back there until I almost fell into them.”

  Macdara leaned in. “This isn’t news. We already know Colm was throwing money around to anyone willing to stop the wedding.” Macdara stopped suddenly. “Did you say secrets you’ve been keeping from Alice? More than one?”

  Paul visibly reddened. He nodded.

  Macdara looked stricken.“Did you sleep with Brenna?”

  “That cow? Of course not!”

  Siobhán was taken aback. She’d never heard Paul speak of a woman in such derogatory terms. And from the shocked look on Macdara’s face, neither had he. How well did Macdara really know Paul Donnelly? Paul must have picked up on their discomfort. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just so wound up. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to trust.”

  “We can’t help you if you won’t tell us what’s really going on.” A few of the lads nearby were looking at them now. Macdara picked up a comic and leafed through it. “Vampires and witches, and shite. Jaysus. Whatever happened to good old Westerns? Horses and guns.”

  Siobhán supressed a smile. Imagined him as a wee lad, dreaming of being a cowboy. And, she had to admit, she liked that he was a little bit jealous.

  “Colm put a private investigator on me a few months back,” Paul said, snapping her back to the moment.

  Macdara slapped down the comic. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “And when he didn’t find anything on me, he turned them loose on me mother and father.”

  Faye and Martin. “That’s out of bounds,” Macdara said. “And?”

  “You know my father had some bad business.”

  “I’m aware. Poor chickens.” Too late, Macdara made a noise that sounded an awful lot like clucking.

  “Almost lost his license.”

  “Go on.”

  “Colm was having him tailed day and night, trying to catch him drinking and driving again. One more strike and it would be off to jail.”

  Either Paul didn’t know about the switch to Martin’s Transport or Macdara’s old friend was a new liar. And a good one at that. Beads of sweat started to form on Paul’s forehead. “Out with it, lad,” Macdara said.

  “The night before Kevin’s murder, several of us saw Colm Cahill kissing another woman in the pub.”

  Siobhán felt a tingling sensation crawl up her spine. This was big somehow. She would need time to think on it. She turned to Macdara. “Does that ring any bells?”

  Macdara shook his head. “I spent most of the evening talking to my mam. I don’t recall seeing Colm with another woman, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

  “Messy business,” Siobhán said. Was that why Colm wasn’t wearing his wedding ring? “Who was the woman?”

  Paul shook his head. “A local. That’s all I know.”

  Macdara sighed. “Is there more to the story?”

  “They disappeared shortly after. But not before Ronan snapped a picture.”

  Siobhán stepped forward and made a concentrated effort to keep the excitement out of her voice. “What did this local woman look like?”

  “Middle-aged. Chestnut hair. Bubbly and chesty. I only saw her from afar.”

  Annmarie?

  “Did Colm find out there was a picture?” Macdara asked.

  “I think Ronan tried to sell it to the highest bidder. I never trusted that lout, but Alice can be easily impressed.”

  Siobhán finally had a few pieces she could put together. “Is that why Colm asked Kevin to knock the camera out of Ronan’s hands?”

  “Exactly. That’s it,” Paul said.

  And then the camera card mysteriously disappeared in the scuffle. Just like she’d mentioned to Macdara on the hilltop. She gave Macdara a look that she could only pray he’d interpret as: I told ye so.

  “Are you going to buy something?” Chris Gorden popped up behind them.

  “No,” Macdara said. “I’m going to buy a birdcage and use a few of these as lining.” He gestured to the comics.

  Chris Gorden frowned. “No loitering.” He smiled at Siobhán. “Except for you. You can loiter all you want.”

  “Let’s go,” Macdara said. “Wanker,” he said again under his breath.

  Once outside, the three stood silent, as if mulling over their options. Siobhán wanted Paul to keep talking. But taking him for a pint in his agitated condition wasn’t the smartest idea. She knew just the place. “Care to walk to the abbey?”

  Macdara nodded. “I could use some fresh air,” he said.

  “I’ll follow you.” Paul gestured for them to lead the way.

  They headed toward the town square
and then cut right down a side street until they reached the banks of the river. Once they crossed the bridge and traversed the field, they entered the monastery grounds. Macdara cut directly through until they reached the stairs leading to the bell tower. “Up for a climb?”

  “You bet,” Siobhán said, hoping her enthusiasm would spread to Paul. He was starting to look guarded, as if he regretted speaking with them.

  “I suppose,” Paul finally said.

  “Good lad.” They raced each other to the top, where the view was long and the walls high. They stopped to pant. “Jaysus, we’re getting old,” Macdara said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Siobhán said. Macdara pinched the back of her arm, and she yelped.

  “I’m lucky I’m settling down,” Paul said, winking at the two of them. They hopped up on the wall. “You two ever think about doing the same?”

  Siobhán felt the heat rush to her head as Macdara gazed out at Kilbane. Rolling fields of green. The stone wall winding along, Saint Mary’s steeple rising in the background. Someone was mowing their lawn, and the scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the heather. “Back to Colm Cahill,” Macdara said, ignoring Paul’s question. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  Paul took out a pack of cigarettes. Marlboros.

  “You smoke?” Macdara asked.

  “If you had to deal with the Cahills, you would start smoking too.”

  They waited while Paul lit up. He puffed for a few moments, exhaled, and then began. “You know my mother is a solicitor.”

  “Back to work after a long absence,” Siobhán said. “Good on her.”

  “Her latest client wants a divorce. Only there’s an ironclad prenup.”

  Was Paul talking about himself?

  “Did you sign a prenup?” Macdara asked.

  Paul gave a wry laugh. “Of course. Colm insisted I sign one. I don’t mind. I’m not after the Cahill money. And it was one of his solicitors who drew up our agreement. My mother has a different client.”

  Paul was making them pull every word out of him. He paused between sentences, taking his time smoking his cigarette. “Go on,” Siobhán urged when she could stand it no longer.

  “If this client divorces her husband without cause, she’ll get nothing. But if there’s any proof of hanky-panky—an affair—the woman will receive half of his fortune.” Paul stubbed his cigarette out and waited. In the distance, church bells tolled.