Murder at an Irish Wedding Page 22

  She was dressed in a warm cream suit with a matching pillbox hat. Her hair was tucked into a bun, and a spot of coral lip balm completed the picture. Siobhán was about to compliment her when Faye put her finger to her lips. Confused, Siobhán looked around.

  Faye lowered her head. “I have to talk to you. Alone.”

  Siobhán looked around once more. There wasn’t a soul in sight, just a sparrow flitting about a tree. “We are alone.”

  Faye swept her eyes over the grounds. “Someone could come out at any moment.”

  “I’m headed for the abbey. Do you want to walk with me?”

  Faye nodded and began to follow Siobhán. “Are you close to figuring out the guilty party?”

  “Today I’m just focusing on the wedding. Why?”

  “Do you really think that every little bit of information is important?”

  Siobhán stopped, turned to Faye. “I do. What is it?”

  Faye’s eyes were wide with fear. Siobhán’s heart sank. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the perfect day. Her heart strings tugged. Alice and Paul deserved their day. Faye’s eyes clicked nervously up and down the street. “Maybe I should tell the guards instead.”

  Siobhán knew that if Faye had wanted to tell the guards, she’d be speaking to them right now. “I can promise I’ll pass on your information to the guards,” Siobhán said, keeping her voice light.

  “What about Martin?”

  “What about him?”

  “He told me you were questioning him. He didn’t do it.”

  Was this all it was about? Faye was worried Siobhán thought Martin was a murderer? “I’ve been speaking to everyone. Did you know Susan switched to his transport company at the last minute?” Faye’s eyes flicked up and to the right. “If the guards have the wrong end of the stick, I’ll make sure to straighten them out.”

  “What end of the stick is that?”

  Siobhán began walking again, picking up her speed slightly so Faye would have to run after her. “That you’re blackmailing Susan Cahill.”

  “Blackmail?” Faye said. She sounded indignant. “I simply asked Susan to use Martin’s trucks.”

  Siobhán stopped. “Why?”

  “Because business has been slow lately. He was losing confidence. Believe me. You don’t want to be around Martin when he’s depressed.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that. But I meant why did Susan agree to make the switch?”

  “I’m not blackmailing her.”

  “I don’t have time for lies.”

  “How dare you?”

  “We all know Susan Cahill doesn’t do good deeds. You must have convinced her somehow.”

  “You know what I do for a living.”

  Siobhán stopped walking. They were by the Kilbane Museum, nearly to the edge of the field. In the distance was the abbey. “You’re handling Susan’s divorce. I also know there’s an ironclad prenup as well as an incriminating photo that Susan Cahill either has in her possession or would kill to get her hands on.”

  A slight smile appeared on Faye’s soft face. “My, my, my. You are a good investigator.”

  “Thank you.” Siobhán started to cross to the field. Faye was taking her time getting to the point, and Siobhán wasn’t going to play games. If she enjoyed pulling teeth, she would have become a dentist.

  Faye reached for her. “There’s more.”

  “Go on then.”

  “I shouldn’t have said it.” Worry lines appeared in Faye’s forehead.

  “Said what?”

  “During the last meeting I had with Susan, I said something I will regret for the rest of my life.” In the distance, the bells from Saint Mary’s began to toll. “I said the only way you’re going to see any money without that picture is over his dead body.”

  Despite the sun beating down on them, Siobhán shivered. “Who was the woman in the picture? Describe her.”

  “Older than you but much younger than me. Brown hair in a bob. Glitzy clothes and makeup and slightly overweight.”

  Annmarie. Was that why Annmarie had seemed so on edge?

  No wonder she was acting so strange, talking about moving to Spain. The store had been struggling ever since Courtney died. Annmarie wasn’t normally the sort to do such a thing, but desperate times and all. Siobhán felt a wave of grief for Annmarie. She knew what it was like to never have enough money.

  “Susan Cahill doesn’t have the photo,” Siobhán said. “That’s why you’re so worried.”

  Faye looked around again, and then her voice dropped to a whisper. “Everyone looked alike in their tracksuits.”

  Siobhán suddenly saw what Faye was trying to confess. Without the picture, Susan Cahill would get nothing. “You think Susan Cahill went up to the top of that hill to kill her husband.”

  Faye’s hands flew over her mouth. She could barely manage a nod. When she spoke again, her voice was strangled. “It’s my fault. Oh. It’s all my fault!”

  “Please calm down.”

  “It was just a silly comment. How was I to know she would take me so seriously?” Faye cried out again. Siobhán was terrified the woman was going to faint dead away.

  She grasped her arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll look into it.” Siobhán paused. “You’d be wise not to say a word to anyone until I can check this out.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice. I can’t wait for the day when I can stop looking over me shoulder.”

  * * *

  The locals came out in droves for the wedding and soon dotted the steps of the church like mismatched figures dropped into an impressionist painting. Sheila Mahoney wore a glittering silver dress that, from the perspective of a hovering drone, might look like a shiny UFO doing a flyby, while her husband Pio stood rigidly by in a baggy tuxedo. On the opposite end of the steps, Peter Hennessy looked well-kept in a dark gray suit with a green bowtie, a marked departure from the denims he used to blend into his hardware store. Mike Granger gave up his cap for a comb-over, and finally there was Annmarie, screaming centre stage in a red, low-cut dress. Heavens. Siobhán was surprised she’d shown up. She prayed she didn’t have a crush on Colm Cahill. Alice had been the one to decide that it would be a gesture of good cheer to invite the folks in town, and whether it was out of morbid curiosity or a desire to see love win out, they were happy to oblige.

  Siobhán stood on the top steps of the church with Macdara, scanning their surroundings, hoping to spot anything amiss. She had donned an emerald green dress that set her auburn locks aflame and teased the green flecks out of her eyes. She’d caught Macdara sneaking glances at her, which always sent a thrilling shock through her. He was so handsome in his black suit, starched white shirt, and tie. She found herself wanting to touch him, a hand on his arm, an excuse to brush something from his collar, a quick kiss. She resisted the urges, lest he think the wedding was flooding her head with romantic ideals.

  Nancy Flannery, to Siobhán’s surprise, played the organ, and she was inside warming up. Cheerful melodies floated out on the breeze and buoyed the mood of the crowd. Brian burst onto the scene, sweating in his tuxedo. He wore a lavender tie and pocket square. He pulled a matching handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his brow. He was talking out loud, or perhaps to one of them, although he didn’t seem to be making eye contact with anyone. Siobhán had to move closer to catch the gist of it. A champagne flute was missing. He’d had all their names engraved as a surprise, but Macdara’s flute was nowhere to be seen. Brian finally worked up the nerve to ask Macdara if he’d pinched it. It took multiple repetitions of denial before Brian moved on.

  “I don’t even want the flute,” Macdara confided to Siobhán. “Unless you can drink Guinness out of it.”

  “I have to side with Brian on this one,” Siobhán said. “I go mental when things disappear.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Macdara said with a wink.

  “It was so nice of your mam to play the organ. She’s very good.”

  “She likes to be helpful.�
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  Siobhán smiled. Like mother like son. “I haven’t had much time to get to know her.”

  “She hasn’t run for the hills yet; that’s a good sign.”

  “She’s been forbidden by the guards to leave Kilbane.”

  “Well, yes. There’s that. But she’s still hanging around us, like.”

  Just then Siobhán spotted Val leaning over to tie his shoe on the church steps. He straightened up, looked at Siobhán, and winked.

  “What was that about?” Macdara said.

  “He’s being cheeky,” Siobhán said with a wave of her hand. She didn’t want to get Macdara riled up. Had Alice changed her mind about him being a thief and invited him, or was he crashing the wedding?

  Bridie hurried by with her hands full of white ribbons. She had on a pretty blue dress with a matching pillbox hat. Her brown curls bounced, and her eyes were bright and shining. “I’m going to help decorate the abbey,” she shouted as she flew by.

  Next her siblings entered the churchyard. The lads were in suits, and Ann and Gráinne wore dresses. Ann’s was pink, which looked gorgeous with her light hair, but Gráinne was wearing a tight black dress that looked more suited to a nightclub than an afternoon wedding. Siobhán kept her gob shut; scolding her wouldn’t do any good, and it was too late to ask her to go home and change. Besides, if she asked her to go home and change, then she would have to face the fact that Gráinne would not go home and change. Siobhán’s heartstrings pulled at the sight of Ciarán in his suit, and it was grand to see Eoin out of his baseball cap for once. James kissed Siobhán on both cheeks.

  “Chef Antoine is still in the kitchen.”

  “It smells delicious,” Ann said.

  “Oui,” Gráinne said.

  “Get a good seat,” Siobhán said, gently urging them inside. “I’ll be there in a moment.” She watched as her brood filed in to the church.

  Ronan came out just as they were going in and began scanning the churchyard with his camera. When all this was over, would they stop him from selling his photos?

  She’d barely had time to wonder when shouts rang out from the small cemetery in the churchyard. Men’s voices, raised in anger. Macdara ran toward the sound, and Siobhán followed. Once they turned the corner, they spotted Paul and Colm standing head-to-head behind a statue of an angel, shouting at each other over the headstones.

  “Hurry,” Siobhán said. “Quiet them down before Alice dissolves into a puddle.” As Macdara headed for the men, someone grabbed Siobhán by the arm. She whirled around to see Brenna standing behind her in a fluffy yellow dress, the kind you might make your maid of honor wear if you loathed the ground she walked on. She looked like a giant baby chick. The dress was so bright Siobhán had to look away for a few seconds. Jaysus. Siobhán resisted the urge to cross herself.

  Brenna swatted down the layers, only to have them bounce back up. “Alice wants to see you.”

  “Me?” Siobhán said. “Is she in the dressing room?”

  “Yes.” Brenna nodded, then flounced away.

  * * *

  Siobhán had to get to the dressing room to speak with Alice. They had to postpone this wedding. The killer was going to use the distraction to strike again. Siobhán could feel it in her bones. She was crossing the churchyard to Alice’s dressing room in the small building adjacent to the cathedral when her mobile started beeping. She glanced at her screen. The Kilbane Inn. It was Margaret. Siobhán hesitated, then answered.

  “I’ve been checking under the mattresses.” Margaret sounded even more frantic than usual.

  “What for?”

  “Weapons.”

  “I see. And did ye find any?”

  “No. But I did find stolen property.”

  Siobhán sighed. “Then why didn’t ye call the guards?”

  “I like you better.”

  “What did ye find?”

  “Not on the phone. Someone could be listening.”

  “I can’t come right now, Margaret. I can come after—”

  “After will be too late.” The phone went dead. Did Margaret hang up, or had the call been severed? Siobhán glanced at the time on her phone. She had an hour until the ceremony. Asking Alice to postpone the wedding wasn’t going to be an easy feat. She wanted to ignore Margaret, but she’d made that mistake once before. Should she visit the bride first or Margaret? Siobhán had once ignored a call for help from Courtney. She’d regretted it the rest of her life. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Margaret. She caught a flash of yellow coming toward her. “Brenna,” she called, “tell Alice I have to zoom back to the bistro. I’ll be right back.”

  Brenna rolled her eyes and continued in the direction of Alice’s dressing room. Siobhán would have to take that as a yes.

  * * *

  Siobhán’s scooter was parked behind the church. She ran for it. This would be the first time riding her scooter in a formal dress, but she had little choice. If there was serious trouble when she arrived at the inn, she would call the guards straightaway. She zoomed down the street, her dress flapping. When she pulled into the Kilbane Inn, Margaret was standing with her walker, waiting, an anxious expression plastered on her face.

  Before Siobhán was even off her scooter, Margaret was tapping her walker down the path. She stopped in front of room number ten.

  “Isn’t that Paul’s room?” Siobhán asked.

  “You’re a sharp one alright,” Margaret said.

  Siobhán hopped off the scooter and approached. “I don’t feel right entering his room.”

  “I don’t feel right with a murderer under me roof.”

  “Hurry. I don’t want anyone to see us.” Margaret unlocked the door, and soon the two of them were huddled inside. The bed was made, and the room smelled fresh. His clothes were tossed everywhere—on chairs, on top of the bureau, and on the bed.

  “Lucky they can afford a maid,” Margaret said.

  “What stolen goods are ye on about?”

  Margaret waddled to the bed, peeled back the covers, then lifted the mattress. She stuck her hand in and grabbed something. When she turned around, her face had scrunched into a ball of wrinkled anxiety. “He was my favorite,” she said, almost sobbing. “To think he’s a thief, and maybe a killer.”

  “Show me.”

  Margaret uncurled her fingers. Sitting in the middle of her palm was a sparkling diamond engagement ring.

  Chapter 28

  Siobhán flew back to the church. Paul, Colm, and Macdara were standing outside on the steps. At least everyone was still alive. Paul had stolen Alice’s ring and lied about it. Macdara was going to have to face the truth about his friend. Siobhán had insisted Margaret lock it in her safe until the guards were called. And the guards would be called. Soon. But Siobhán wanted more time. Just a little more time. She was close. She could feel it. Macdara saw the look on her face. The three of them came to a halt in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I know that look. That’s not nothing.”

  “Excuse me,” Paul said. He broke off and jogged up the church steps. Colm stormed off in the opposite direction. Either the man who is about to give the bride away is a killer, or the man she’s about to marry is. Either way, Alice was doomed. Siobhán was going to have to find a way to stop the wedding.

  “You’re completely flushed” Macdara said. “What is it?”

  “What can I say? Weddings make me all aflutter.”

  Macdara narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Liar.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Siobhán said. “First I have to see to the bride.”

  * * *

  Siobhán entered the dressing room and found Alice standing in front of a mirror. She turned, and Siobhán gasped. Alice was wearing a light blue wedding gown. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid. A veil of wild flowers adorned her head. In one hand she was clutching a horseshoe and in the other a bell. Unfortunately, she was holding the horseshoe upside down.

&nbs
p; “You look gorgeous,” Siobhán said, keeping her voice cautious. She stepped up and gently turned the horseshoe in Alice’s hand the right way. “So your luck doesn’t run out,” she said gently. Alice did look gorgeous. The blue was particularly stunning with Alice’s eyes. “Where did you get the dress?”

  “Bridie helped me,” Alice whispered. “She couldn’t really get my other one clean.”

  “Well, you look gorgeous. She even added some Irish lace. Now there’s a good bit of luck.”

  Alice nodded. Or she tried to nod. Her head wobbled instead. All was not well with the bride; that much was obvious. Alice rang the bell. “Faye couldn’t find a Child of Prague.” Alice picked up a garden gnome from the wedding table. “Do you think it will count if I bury this instead?”

  Placing a statue of the Child of Prague in a garden prior to a wedding was supposed to ensure nice weather. Some brides buried it instead. “You should be sorted,” Siobhán said, gently taking the gnome out of her hand and putting it down.

  “A man has to be the first to congratulate me after I say ‘I do,’ ” Alice said. She put the bell and horseshoe down and picked up a man’s shoe from her wedding table. “And I’ve asked Macdara to walk in front of me and throw this over my head.” Another silly superstition. Only this time, Alice was buying into them. She’d gone completely mental. “I’ve already stood in the sun, but I didn’t see any magpies.” She grabbed Siobhán. “I have a confession.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t even know what a magpie looks like. What do they look like? And why does it have to be three of them? Won’t one of them do? Is it because of the Holy Trinity?” Black tears began to run down her face. Siobhán tensed. This had surpassed superstition. Something had happened to rattle the bride. And if Siobhán wasn’t mistaken, it had something to do with the mirror.

  Siobhán hadn’t noticed until now that every time she moved slightly, Alice stepped in front of it. Siobhán made more of a definite move for the mirror.