Murder at an Irish Wedding Page 21

  “They’re evidence.” She didn’t have a clue as to whether or not he even understood her.

  “Git.” He threw his arm up like an elephant’s trunk, signaling which way she should leave.

  “I’m not trying to take them. Just tell me exactly where you found them, that’s all.” She’d let the guards decide whether or not to come for the items.

  “Mine,” he said. This was getting her nowhere. She’d have to send the guards back. She felt guilty doing it, but she snapped a photo of him with her phone. He actually smiled, showing his cavernous mouth. Siobhán’s stomach turned. Maybe she’d leave a basket of brown bread.

  She started to walk away when he called out to her. “I’ll give ya da note for a tenner.”

  * * *

  Siobhán found Brenna in Sheila Mahoney’s hair salon. Her head was wrapped in tinfoil, and she was laughing it up with Sheila, who had a cigarette in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. Siobhán shoved the note under her nose.

  More when the deed is done. Meet me at sunrise. Top of the hill.

  “That’s it,” Brenna said. “Where did you get it?”

  “This is the note that Kevin took from your bedroom?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I?”

  “But it wasn’t really to him?”

  Brenna sighed and rolled her eyes at Sheila, who shook her head in empathy. “Hurry it up,” Sheila said. “We have to rinse.”

  “Who wrote this note?”

  “Colm wrote the note. To me. He slipped it under my door Tuesday evening. We met at the top of the hill Wednesday morning. That’s when he paid me to seduce Paul.”

  “Oh, luv,” Sheila said, “I would have done that for free.” They cackled like a pair of witches and didn’t even notice when Siobhán walked out of the salon.

  * * *

  Siobhán headed for the gardai station, turning the note over in her mind. So Kevin woke up, most likely with a wicked hangover. He saw the note and the money on Brenna’s nightstand. Most likely he thought they were for him. He went to the top of the hill. But whoever was waiting up there hadn’t been waiting for Kevin.

  Colm Cahill was the intended victim. He was the one who announced he planned on hiking up to the top of the hillside every morning; he was a man of routines, the one the killer expected to find.

  And if all that was true, then the job was left unfinished, and Colm Cahill was in grave danger.

  There were black smudges all over the note. Something about that tickled a faint memory for Siobhán, but every time she tried to catch it, every time the thought came close, it flittered away again. Black smudge, black smudge, black smudge. The dirt Alice had been digging in by Val’s post was brown. So where had she seen a black smudge?

  * * *

  Instead of being grateful that she had turned over the note, O’Brien was furious with her.

  “I told you to take three steps back.” Once again they were crammed into his temporary office. Siobhán didn’t understand how anyone could solve a crime from behind a desk. No wonder they weren’t making any headway.

  “That’s why I’m giving the note to you and letting you know that the traveler has Kevin’s watch and chain. And one more thing—”

  “You went and confronted the traveler all on your own. Against strict orders!”

  He had her there. Siobhán stood tall. “You said you weren’t interested in my theories, so I had to verify it as fact before I brought it to ye.” O’Brien’s eyes narrowed into little slits, and he motioned for her to leave.

  “Kevin Gallagher wasn’t the intended victim. I believe Colm Cahill was.”

  O’Brien rose. He pointed to the door. “Get out.”

  “I think Colm Cahill is in mortal danger. What if the killer tries to finish what he started?”

  “Did you know that the victim had Macdara’s garda cap under his hand?”

  Siobhán was startled. Why was he asking her that? “Kevin lifted it off Macdara the night before. He was wearing it as a joke.”

  “The answer is yes. You knew, and you said nothing.”

  “Surely you’re not pointing a finger at Macdara?”

  “Right now I’m pointing a finger at me door. Get out.”

  “This really isn’t about me. You need to put a guard on Colm Cahill—”

  “I’m going to say it once more. And if you’re still standing in front of me, I’m locking you in a cell. Get. Out.”

  * * *

  Despite it being an overgrown jungle, Chef Antoine was delighted with the O’Sullivans’ herb garden in their little patch of heaven out back. After each new leaf he discovered, he gave a cry of joy, as if he had just discovered a new country. Eoin followed him around with Trigger attached to his heels. Siobhán was pacing around, trying to calm herself down. O’Brien had been so rude. What’s worse, she knew she was right. Colm Cahill had a target on his back. Siobhán had texted Macdara that she urgently needed to see him, but he had yet to respond. She knew O’Brien would carry through with his threat of locking her away if she caused any more trouble, but she couldn’t possibly keep this development to herself. Not when a man’s life was at stake. If no one else listened to her, she would have to warn Colm Cahill in person.

  Once in a while she caught Trigger staring at her as if he were plotting her demise. Ciarán was right. She would have to start giving him treats.

  “This garden must be tended,” Chef Antoine said. “Shame, shame, shame.”

  Siobhán indeed felt ashamed. She had even resorted to buying jars of herbs at the shop, something her ma and da would have found outrageous.

  Chef Antoine began to clear out the weeds, plucking off leaves, smelling them, and either sighing with joy or crinkling his nose. “You need to place little signs,” he said. “Mint, rosemary, thyme—” Chef Antoine began rattling off the Latin names.

  To Siobhán’s surprise, Eoin delighted in them and began to repeat after the chef. Siobhán was thrilled to see him engrossed in something other than comic books or eBay.

  “I know this one,” Eoin said, brushing a bordering shrub with his foot. “Laurel.” He beamed and looked at Chef Antoine for praise.

  “Laurus nobilis,” Chef Antoine said, coming closer. He bent down and examined the shrub with one eye. Then he shot up. “Non,” he said. “Big mistake.” He shook his head and wagged his finger at Eoin.

  “How so?” Siobhán said. He sounded slightly threatening, and her mother-bear shackles were up.

  “This is cherry laurel.”

  “Lovely,” Siobhán said. “I love cherries.”

  “Will it produce cherries?” Eoin asked. He turned to Siobhán. “We could make a pie.”

  “Non, non. Unless you want this pie to kill your patrons.”

  Siobhán stepped back. “Pardon?”

  “Cyanide. This foliage has an abundance of cyanide.”

  “You’re joking me,” Eoin said.

  “Many, many plants have poison,” Chef Antoine said. “The world is wild and dangerous, no?”

  “What other plants are poisonous?” The thrill was evident in Eoin’s voice. Chef Antoine’s cool factor had shot up exponentially.

  “Socrates, you hear of him?” Chef Antoine twirled the end of his mustache.

  Siobhán held her breath. “The philosopher?” Eoin said. Siobhán exhaled. Thanks be to God, he was learning something in school.

  “Killed by poison hemlock!” Chef Antoine said. “Ze hell broth.”

  “Hell broth,” Eoin echoed, fascinated. He looked around the garden. “Do we have any here?”

  The chef took a moment to cast his gaze around the yard. “No,” he said, sounding almost as disappointed as Eoin.

  “Wait for me.” Eoin stuck his hand up, then ran back into the garden.

  “Could this kill animals?” Siobhán asked.

  “Animals, they are smart. No eat.”

  Eoin returned with Ciarán’s Big Book of Poisons. “What else?” Eoin rubbed his hands together in gl
eeful anticipation.

  “Let’s not monopolize all of the chef’s time—” Siobhán started to say.

  “The leaf of the evergreen yew.” Chef Antoine leaned into Eoin and lowered his voice. Eoin began flipping through the book. They were both enjoying this way too much.

  “Here it is,” Eoin exclaimed, jabbing a page of the book with his finger. “Do we have that?” He sounded extremely hopeful.

  “Here? Non. But you will find it in abundance in the churchyard. It is the shrubs that line all along the back.”

  Siobhán knew the exact shrubs he was talking about. They had always been behind the church. “But they’re so pretty,” she said.

  “Oui, oui,” Chef Antoine said nodding his head. “Pretty to look. Not so pretty to eat.”

  “Deadly,” Eoin said.

  “Oui,” Chef Antoine said, missing Eoin’s vernacular use of the word. Siobhán supposed it was better than “awesome,” but in these circumstances she’d prefer the latter.

  “One more!” Chef Antoine said, seeming as delighted as Eoin. “Tooth of ze wolf.”

  “A wolf?” Eoin’s eyes were huge.

  “Grows in the late summer. A flower. Wolf’s bane. If you consume this?” Antoine snapped his finger. “Heart attack. Death. Very, very fast.”

  “Very, very fast,” Eoin echoed. He flipped through the book, then showed the page to Chef Antoine, who nodded. Eoin turned the corner of the page down. “Is it still around?”

  “Yes. I would say, you can still find for a little while longer. Hidden in amongst herbs and shrubs. Little deadly flower. Little, bad wolf.”

  “Great lesson, lads,” Siobhán said. “How do we get rid of every single poisonous leaf?”

  Chef Antoine reached down, grabbed a fistful of cherry laurel, and threw it on the weed pile. “Like this,” he said. “Dangerous to eat. Not to touch.” Siobhán and Eoin donned gloves and helped pull out the rest of it. Soon they were pulling weeds and piling them up in the corner. After a half an hour, Siobhán was starting to sweat. That was it for her.

  “Why don’t we go back inside for a nice cup of tea with a sprig of mint?”

  “Little bad wolf,” Eoin said, mesmerized. “Wait until I tell the lads about this.” Just then the back door opened, and Macdara stepped out.

  “We have a cyanide back here!” Eoin exclaimed.

  “Good for you,” Macdara said. “Siobhán? Do you have time for a chat?”

  Chapter 26

  They went for a walk down Sarsfield Street. It was late afternoon on a Friday, and folks were bustling in and out of the shops, and slipping into the pubs. They found themselves gravitating toward the chipper. Siobhán stopped before going in. “I think Colm Cahill was the intended victim. Not Kevin. And I’m worried the killer is going to try to finish what he started.”

  “Why are you so sure?”

  Siobhán told him about Brenna’s note.

  “So it was a complete fluke that Kevin was at the top of the hill that morning.”

  “Exactly,” Siobhán said. “But O’Brien didn’t want to hear a word of it.”

  Macdara nodded and lowered his voice. “The story on Ronan checks out. He was hired to do an exposé. Paid a lot of money. Admits the camera card was taken off him—”

  “Isn’t that motive for murder?” Ronan had been eager to get to the crime scene. Ronan was furious about his camera being smashed up. And Ronan loved stirring up drama and then photographing the aftermath. Had he staged a murder for his sick artistic purposes?

  “He had a secret backup of all his photos. I don’t think he’s our killer.”

  “You found his backup?”

  Macdara nodded. “The guards confiscated a USB.”

  Siobhán began to pace as she played the scene over in her mind. The prenup. Colm kissing another woman—probably Annmarie. Ronan capturing it on film.

  That photo was worth a fortune to Susan Cahill. Or Colm. But if Susan had the photo, and Siobhán was right about Colm being the intended victim, why try kill to kill him? Why not just kill him in court with the evidence of adultery? She was just speculating. Maybe Annmarie could shed some light on the situation. Siobhán was going to have to pay her another visit. Siobhán sighed and filled Macdara in on Alice’s tussle with Val. “Where was she digging?” Macdara looked on high alert.

  “Near the wall. Chef Antoine told her he’d seen Val burying something.” It reminded her that she’d completely forgotten to ask Chef Antoine why he thought Val was a thief and why he’d waited until just recently to tell Alice. She’d been too preoccupied with her latest run-in with O’Brien. Macdara was frowning. She knew him too well. He was hiding something from her. “What?”

  “It’s official guard business.” Macdara looked away from her.

  He was so infuriating sometimes. But this was no time for a fight. “You found Kevin’s things buried near the wall, didn’t you?”

  “Me? No. I didn’t.”

  “Spill it,” Siobhán said, pointing her finger at Macdara.

  He sighed. “The guards indeed found a small hole had been dug by the wall. Kevin’s lighter, ID, and hotel key were found. His watch and gold chain were missing.”

  “Because the killer buried all the items there, but the traveler dug them up,” Siobhán said. “He probably had no idea the items belonged to a murder victim, and of course he only took what was of interest to him.”

  Macdara nodded. “So Chef Antoine was correct.”

  “Why didn’t Chef Antoine report this to the guards?” Siobhán wondered out loud.

  “Maybe he’s taking a page from your book,” Macdara said.

  “What if Chef Antoine only thought it was Val he saw digging? What if he saw someone else?”

  “Who else?” Macdara’s frown was back.

  Siobhán dodged the question. She didn’t want to get into another row about Paul. The fact that Macdara couldn’t even consider him as a suspect meant he couldn’t do this investigation justice. She lobbed a question of her own. “What all did they find buried near the wall?”

  “Hotel key. Lighter. Identification.” Macdara looked away again. He was holding something back.

  “And?”

  “I’m not supposed to say.”

  Siobhán threw up her arms. “I’m not a suspect.”

  “But you’re not a guard either. And O’Brien has made it clear to me too. You are to stay completely out of this.”

  “Come on!” Siobhán knew she should offer some reasonable explanation as to why Macdara should ignore his superior and listen to her, but there really was none.

  Macdara held up his index finger. “Not a word to anyone. And no more investigating.”

  Siobhán put her hand to her heart. “Not a bother.”

  “You said that way too quick.”

  “Not a word to anyone.” Siobhán mimed zipping her lips shut.

  “And no more investigating.”

  “Who’s investigating? I’m just trying to keep a bride from having a complete breakdown. Did you find the diamond ring?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. But we did find a thousand euros and another piece of that red ribbon that you somehow got Brenna to cough up.”

  “They weren’t after the money,” Siobhán said, more to herself than Macdara.

  “Or they planned on coming back for it,” Macdara said.

  “Why wouldn’t the traveler take the money? Especially when he had the note?”

  “We surmised it was a matter of where each item was buried. The euros were found at the bottom of the hole, way underneath the other items, much deeper. My guess is that something—an animal most likely—disturbed the hiding place and the shiny gold watch and chain caught the eye of the traveler. The note must have been toward the top as well. He probably grabbed them as quickly as he could, then saw nothing but the lighter, hotel key, and ID. With so many guards around the castle, I’m sure he grabbed his treasures up as fa
st as he could. Had he dug a little deeper he would have found the euros.”

  Siobhán mulled it over. It was a likely theory. She put the traveler aside for a moment. The important bit was the killer. The killer didn’t want to be caught with Kevin’s possessions and didn’t have any other choice but to bury them? Perhaps Chef Antoine had discovered the body sooner than the killer had expected and he or she had panicked.

  Paul had dirt underneath his fingernails. Paul would have a motive to kill Colm Cahill. And he was the right height. Easy to lob a rock at the back of his head. Siobhán wanted to discuss all of this with Macdara, but he was liable to blow a gasket.

  “Oh, no,” Macdara said.

  “What?” Siobhán said.

  “I can hear the wheels turning in your head.”

  “With the distraction of a wedding, the killer might let their guard down. We have to make sure we’re watching. Carefully watching.”

  “You’re using a wedding to catch a killer?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Macdara stared at her. “Why can’t you just be a normal girl and catch the bouquet?”

  “How about I be a normal girl right now and eat curry chips with you?”

  “That’ll have to do,” Macdara said opening the door to the chipper and waving her inside. “That’ll have to do.”

  Chapter 27

  Inside Saint Mary’s Cathedral, it was beginning to look a lot like a wedding. Bunches of white lilies tied with red ribbon were attached to the ends of the pews. Apparently Susan Cahill had gotten her way. Siobhán wished she could rip the lilies off and replace them with white roses, but, alas, that was not to be. Still, things were looking up. Macdara had spoken with the guards, who had promised to keep an extra eye on Colm Cahill. For once, instead of hurtling accusations at each other, the Cahill/Donnelly wedding guests were putting their attention on something besides murder. There was an almost jovial atmosphere in the air. Brian was humming. Chef Antoine had been in the kitchen since way before sunrise, and Ronan was photographing pre-wedding activities. Even the sun was shining for the big day. The volunteer fireman had safely removed the bird nest from the abbey, ensuring that Alice would get her outdoor wedding after all. Siobhán was actually on her way to help Brian set up for the reception, but as soon as she descended the church steps, Faye Donnelly stepped in front of her.