Murder at an Irish Wedding Page 20

  Colm was the first voice she heard. “Just tell me. Is it true?”

  “You have no idea.” The sounds of something slamming.

  Susan screamed something back, but the only word Siobhán could make out was “money.”

  “I will never let you get away with this,” Colm screamed, clear as day. Heavy steps. Getting closer.

  Jaysus. Siobhán jumped back, whirled around, and gently started shoving Margaret out of harm’s way. As the door burst open and Colm stepped out, Margaret hoisted up the glass and began pretend-drinking out of it as if she and Siobhán were rehearsing a scene out of an amateur stage play.

  Colm stopped short when he saw them, his face bright red with rage. “Where’s my daughter?” he screamed at Siobhán.

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” Siobhán said.

  “My wife says she ran out of the shop in her wedding dress.”

  “In her wedding dress?” This was new.

  Colm flailed his arms. “Some sort of fitting.”

  “She ran out in her wedding dress?”

  Colm clenched his fists. “I just said so, didn’t I?”

  Susan ran out of the room with a suitcase clutched in her hand.

  “Where are you going?” Colm yelled.

  “I’m not staying with you for one second longer,” Susan yelled back. She stopped in front of Siobhán. “I’ll stay with you.”

  “Me?” Siobhán couldn’t have possibly heard right.

  “I’d rather stick a fork in my eye. I can’t wait to get out of this bloody village. But yes. You.”

  “There are six of us and only four beds,” Siobhán said. Susan started to sob. It was more disconcerting than anything the woman had done or said so far.

  “You deserve it,” Colm said. He headed back for the room and slammed the door. Susan looked at Siobhán, tears spilling out of her eyes.

  “I’m going to tell that photographer to publish his exposé. Every single word.”

  “Ronan?”

  “He’s not really here to photograph the wedding. He’s here to spy on Alice for that evil gossip rag.”

  So Susan knew about the deal with the Irish Enquirer. Who was her source? “How do you know this?”

  “Told me himself. Wanted to see if I would bid higher before he started selling them all his photos. Said he could make a mint off of us unraveling.”

  And he was probably right.

  “The guards have attempted to confiscate all his photos,” Siobhán assured her.

  “What if he has them all on some little stick?” Susan said.

  “A USB?”

  “I don’t know if it’s from the States or not. Who cares at a time like this?”

  Siobhán didn’t bother to educate her about USB sticks. “I’ll have Macdara question him again, but shouldn’t you be more worried about the fact that we can’t find Alice?”

  “Don’t be daft. She always does this. She’s having a walkabout.”

  “A walkabout? In her wedding dress?”

  Susan sighed. “One minute we were standing there, and I was simply telling her the dress was too tight. The next thing you know, Chef Antoine walks in with her lunch, and she’s tearing out of there.”

  Chef Antoine. Had he said or done something to upset her? “She’s always been impulsive and rebellious,” Susan continued. “Her trainers are missing from her room. She always has to walk when she’s upset.”

  “Good to know.” The morning they met, Alice said she was walking the road outside the castle. People were creatures of habit. Perhaps that’s where Siobhán would find her. And if nothing else, it was the perfect excuse to get in a run.

  “Where are you going?” Susan called after Siobhán. “You’re supposed to take me to your house.”

  “Ask Margaret if she has another room,” Siobhán said. “Unless you want to sleep in the back garden with our new pup, Trigger, we simply don’t have the room.”

  Chapter 24

  After changing into her running clothes, Siobhán kept a steady pace and headed down the road toward the castle. Annmarie had given her something new to chew on, but if Siobhán was right about Susan hiring her, she was definitely holding back vital information. And she seemed unusually spooked, although another murder in Kilbane could definitely do that to a gal.

  Macdara hadn’t answered any of her calls. She left him a message to fill him in on the traveler with the gold watch. She was going to have to pay a visit to the travelers’ camp. There no longer seemed to be enough hours in a day, and time flew when she was investigating a crime. She wouldn’t dare go as far as to admit that she was enjoying it, but it did challenge her on so many levels. And she welcomed challenges; there was no denying that. Were there any courses in those college catalogs at home that would come close to giving her this kind of rush?

  The air was crisp and filled with the smell of wood smoke. Clear skies were above, but it had rained overnight, and Siobhán could feel the vestiges of the damp in her bones as she jogged. Her breathing became labored more quickly than usual. She passed through the entrance gate. She was now outside the walls on the road to the castle. When she was nearly there, she caught a flash of white thrashing around on the ground. Alice, in her wedding dress, was wrestling with someone in the dirt. Siobhán thrust herself forward, running as fast as she could. As she drew closer, she could see that Alice was in a tussle with a man. Siobhán screamed, hoping that might be enough to make him let her go. When she finally reached them, she could see it was Val that Alice was struggling with.

  “Let her go!” Siobhán said. But even as the words were out of her mouth, she caught the terrified look on Val’s face, and then saw it was Alice who had a firm grip on him. Her nails were dug into his arms.

  “She’s gone mental!” Val yelled.

  “He stole my ring,” Alice said. “It’s him.”

  “Let go now,” Siobhán said, as she peeled Alice’s fingers from Val’s arms. Alice’s fingernails were caked with dirt, along with her wedding dress and most of her face. Siobhán soon spotted the reason, Alice had been frantically digging in the dirt with her hands.

  Val stared up, his face beet red, hands already up in the air. Siobhán knew firsthand that Val was capable of getting rough. Had he manhandled Alice the way he’d grabbed Siobhán in the castle?

  “I found her digging,” Val said. “Tried to calm her down. She clawed me.” He began to walk backward.

  “Stay right there,” Siobhán said in the sternest voice she could muster. Val backed up a few more feet. “If you take one more step, I’ll call the guards and have you arrested.”

  “But she attacked me!” Val said.

  “Who do you think they’re going to believe?” Siobhán said. “The pair of us, or you?” It wasn’t like her to lie and threaten so, but if there was a valid reason Alice thought Val stole her diamond, she didn’t want him out of their sight.

  She knelt down on the ground next to the now sobbing Alice.

  “He told me he’d buried it somewhere along here,” she wailed. “Will you help me dig?”

  “I told her no such thing,” Val said.

  “Not you,” Alice said. “Chef Antoine.”

  “Chef Antoine said he saw Val burying your ring here?”

  Alice nodded. “He came to deliver my lunch. And he was nearly crying from keeping this secret from me, but he could see how upset I was about the ring. He said Val steals from the guests and buries the things near his post.” She pointed to the entrance gate, which was indeed Val’s usual post. Had Val knocked Siobhán down the stairs? He had certainly been there. But why would Val want the alibis? His wasn’t amongst them. Unless he was just trying to solve the case ahead of Siobhán?

  But the push had been so violent.

  Val’s eyes flickered, and he looked as if he were about to cry. “He’s lying. Miss Cahill, that French barbarian is lying. If anyone’s a thief, it’s him!”

  “Where are the guards?” Police cars were parked every
where, including the van from Cork University Morgue.

  Val pointed to the woods. “They’re on the hill with the state pathologist. She’s just arrived.”

  Siobhán took Alice by the hand and hauled her up. “I have to dig,” Alice cried.

  “No,” Siobhán said. “You don’t.” She pulled her away from the hole, away from Val. “Let’s walk.”

  “He’ll just wait until we’re gone and dig it up,” Alice cried. “I want my diamond ring!”

  “I didn’t do it,” Val said. “She’s mental.”

  “I’m the freaking bride. I’m allowed to be mental!” Alice was screaming now.

  “I’ll have a guard watch this area,” Siobhán said.

  “I don’t need to be minded,” Val said. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Why are you still here anyway?” Siobhán said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Huntsmans are gone. There are no guests. What are you still doing here?”

  “I’ve been given permission.”

  “But why?”

  “Where would you rather stay? In that sad little inn or in a castle?”

  “Seems like it would be lonely.”

  “I like watching the guards work. I don’t plan on being a security guard forever.”

  He sounded sincere. And the guilt crept back into his voice. That was the secret he was keeping. His ambition. He was embarrassed about his post as a mere security guard. Probably fancied himself a detective superintendent. So if he wasn’t stealing trinkets from guests and burying them, why on earth had Chef Antoine said that?

  Alice began racewalking toward Kilbane.

  Siobhán turned to Val, who was staring after her with a tortured look on his face. “Why would Chef Antoine accuse you of such a thing?”

  “I have no idea.” Val’s face flushed a deep crimson, and he looked away. Siobhán had no time to press him; she had a runaway bride on her hands.

  * * *

  Alice ended up by the river just across the bridge and just short of the abbey. She was staring into the water as if she were thinking about tossing herself in.

  “It’s peaceful here,” Alice said quietly. With her dirt-streaked face and filthy wedding dress, Alice Cahill looked anything but peaceful. Siobhán was grateful Ronan wasn’t nearby with his camera. Unfortunately, this would have been the cover photo for the Irish Enquirer. People loved it when the rich and beautiful were down and dirty.

  “Do you think Val is the killer?” Siobhán asked gently.

  Alice whirled around. “What?”

  “If he stole your ring, he could have robbed Kevin that morning.”

  “It’s crossed my mind,” Alice said. “But . . .”

  “But?”

  “Robbing people is one thing. But murder? That seems like too big of a leap.”

  “I’m inclined to agree. The killing feels very angry to me.”

  “Meaning someone who knew him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Loved him, even.” A small sob escaped her lips. Alice slapped her hand over her mouth as if she hadn’t expected to say it.

  In fact, it was a funny thing to say. Siobhán wanted to keep her talking. “Right.”

  Tears spilled over onto Alice’s cheeks. “Like Paul,” she whispered.

  Siobhán felt a little zap of electricity. “Like Paul?”

  “My father thinks . . . He thinks . . . ,” Alice started sobbing. Great heaves came out of her. Siobhán waited. When the tears finally stopped, she wiped her face with her hands. “It’s nonsense! I can’t believe I’m even repeating it.” She grabbed Siobhán. “Please forget I said that. Daddy’s been doing everything he can think of to come between us.”

  “Your father thinks what?”

  “He thinks Paul killed Kevin,” Alice cried out again.

  “But why on earth would Paul kill Kevin?”

  Alice shook her head. “I told you to forget I ever said it.”

  “It’s okay. We’re just eliminating him. This is how you do it. You have to walk through every scenario, no matter how outlandish.”

  Alice took a deep breath and nodded. “Kevin was hinting around that he knew secrets about Paul.”

  Siobhán stepped forward. “What secrets?”

  “He didn’t say. That’s why I didn’t take it seriously; he was just messing.”

  “What exactly did Kevin say?”

  “He said that he could tell me secrets about Paul that would make me not want to marry him.”

  “Kevin said that to you.”

  Alice paused. “No. Brenna did. She overheard them that night.” Alice’s hands flew to her mouth. “Do you think Brenna was lying?”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  Alice nodded. “She said Paul was furious. Roaring and shouting at Kevin. That’s when he told him he’d find a new best man.”

  “Let’s just follow one trail at a time. If Kevin was telling the truth, what type of secret do you think Paul might be keeping?”

  Alice’s face stilled. “I can’t talk to you. You’re practically a guard.”

  “I’m not. I’m just a person.”

  “You’re trying to solve this case.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Alice gazed down at the river, then met Siobhán’s eyes. “We’re just talking here to clear him. Right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  “I promise.” Siobhán crossed her fingers behind her back.

  “Paul had dirt underneath his fingernails.” Alice covered her mouth again as if she couldn’t believe she’d just said it.

  Siobhán gently placed her hand on Alice’s arm. “When?”

  “The morning Kevin was killed. When he came across the lawn and kissed me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Paul always has impeccable nails. He’s tidy to a fault.”

  “Did you ask him about it?”

  “I didn’t get the chance. I was about to tease him, ask him if he’d been digging in the dirt with his hands, when Chef Antoine came running out of the woods.”

  “Why didn’t you ask him later?”

  “Because he’d cleaned up by then, and of course I didn’t think for a minute that my fiancé had picked up a rock and smashed Kevin in the back of the head.”

  Siobhán edged forward. “And now? What do you think now?”

  Alice’s blue eyes seemed to pale. Her mouth trembled when she spoke. “What if it wasn’t Val at all? What if Paul’s the one Chef Antoine saw burying something near the wall?”

  Siobhán was about to joke that it was impossible to mistake Val for Paul when she thought about it. Val’s uniform was the same shade as the tracksuits. They were both tall men. From a distance, spotting someone kneeling down in the dirt, it was possible. Chef Antoine expected to see Val near his post, therefore bolstering his conviction that it was Val.

  Alice let out the last of her fears, in a single gush. “What if it was Paul he saw, and what if he was burying Kevin’s things? What if my father is right? What if I’m about to marry a murderer?”

  Chapter 25

  The travelers’ camp was overgrown with weeds. It made Siobhán doubly sad. First, for neglecting her father’s herb garden, and second, for silently judging them about the state of theirs. She counted six caravans in the field, at least three propped up with cinder blocks and leaning to the side. Toys and debris were flung about the lawn. In the centre of the caravans was a fire pit. Ashes were piled around it. A child sat near the pit, poking at the ashes with a stick. His face and clothes were smeared with dirt. He couldn’t have been more than three years of age. She wanted to scoop him up, clean him off, and take him home. Then again, the lads in her family had come home many a time covered in dirt and mud. Alice Cahill herself had just looked like a grown-up replica of the dirty child. Siobhán had deposited her at the inn and called in Gráinne and Ann to tend to her. They were thrilled to do it, and it took s
ome sting out of not letting them read the alibis. Siobhán waved and smiled at the child. He or she (she could not be sure) did not return either gesture.

  An old woman came to the door of the caravan closest to the child and yelled something at Siobhán, who couldn’t understand a word. The woman came out of the caravan, slamming the door behind her. She picked up the child and disappeared inside. This had been a bad idea. She didn’t even know the name of the man she was looking for. She turned to head out when she spotted a green cap near the caravan closest to the exit. Didn’t Annmarie say he was wearing a green cap? She went and rapped on the door. After a second, a curtain on the caravan twitched. Siobhán waited. Nothing happened. She knocked again. The curtain opened, and the window popped up. A man stuck his head out. He could have been thirty or fifty, it was hard to tell. Most of his face was concealed by facial hair. But she could see a gold chain around his neck.

  “I dinna see a t’ing,” he said straightaway.

  “Your watch and chain.” Siobhán pointed to his neck. “They belong to a dead man.”

  The traveler cocked his head to once side. “He issna gon ta need it den, is he?” The man was difficult to understand, his word slurring together.

  “I need to know exactly where you found them.”

  “Buried inna dirt. They’re mine.”

  “Near the castle?”

  The window slammed shut. The curtain fell back. Siobhán took a step back, thinking that was all she was going to get out of him when the door to the caravan popped open with a squeak. He was so rail thin she wanted to cry out. Clothes hung off him. The watch was taped to his wrist so that it wouldn’t fall off. He looked at her and nodded.

  Was he answering her question in the affirmative or just greeting her? She decided to go with the former. “Where exactly near the castle?”

  “They’re mine.” He shook his wrist. The tape held. There was a possibility that this was the killer, but he didn’t seem to be hiding the fact that he had Kevin’s belongings. She was sure he’d discovered the loot after the murder.