by Calinda B
She stared at the phone. It hadn’t rung once since she got here. And, why would it? When she’d tried to use it, there had been no dial tone. Did the phone company get it fixed? She set to find out before she did anything stupider than what she’d already done.
Chapter 11
Lassi stalked away from Cillian to the kitchen wall phone, kicking debris from her path. In the process, she uncovered another dried cat—this one in pieces. The skeletal remains scattered along the floor.
“Gah! How many did she have?”
A snort or tsk or some other sound she didn’t care for fell from Cillian’s lips.
The bra which had been hanging on the phone, had fallen and now lay in a heap on the floor. She nudged it aside with the toe of her boot, wondering who left their lingerie in the kitchen. Who gets busy at a wake, for Christ’s sake?
She seized the handset and said, “Hello?”
A fecking ringtone met her ears. She let out an exasperated grumble.
Before turning back around, she considered her options. Her body demanded release—not just any release but a good, hard tumble with the guy behind her—but her mind flashed stop signs.
“Let’s head up to the village to tend baby Paul, shall we?” she said, without turning around. She strode from the kitchen, down the dark, dingy hall, and into the front room. Cillian’s footsteps were right behind her.
Mr. Meow lay contentedly curled on his chair, still stoned, apparently, on whatever spell Cillian had cast on him. He didn’t even stir.
Aware of Cillian’s presence lurking in the doorway, she picked up the doily to sweep her supplies into the leather satchel. Her hands trembled. All this electricity zipping through her system had her royally freaked out. She closed the black bag, retrieved her coat from the floor where it had fallen, and stormed outside, completely ignoring Cillian. Stop calling him Cillian. Get back to calling him Father Ward, or there will be no help for my actions.
Silently, they strode up the hill and into town, heading for the Riordan’s. Lassi stayed in the lead, clutching her medical supplies. Father Ward lagged behind.
They arrived at the home in record time, since no enjoyment was taken by the stroll. The red door hung wide open. Lassi swept past the villagers lingering on the sidewalk, rapped on the frame, and stepped in.
Father Ward strode behind her.
The Riordan home appeared as cozy and well-tended on the inside as it was on the outside. Lassi stalked past a tidy front room bursting with colorful furnishings and pillows in reds and blues and yellows. She tried not to think of the love living here yesterday, replaced today by grief.
The murmur of voices came from down the hall.
Her footsteps quickened as she headed toward them, while her fingers curled into fists.
Father Ward emanated his usual heat as he silently followed. It warmed her back but did nothing for the emotional wall she’d erected.
She guessed he was doing his own sorting, same as her.
Their footsteps echoed like horse hooves.
Pictures of the Riordan family lined the walls. In each picture, the three of them smiled and laughed, or looked at one another adoringly.
Pangs of sorrow poked at Lassi’s insides. So much love and joy, wiped away by tragedy. Fecking small town murderer. Her hands coiled into fists.
As if sensing her upset, Father Ward placed his hand on her shoulder.
Her fists uncoiled by her sides, but she still didn’t face him or acknowledge him.
Siobhan sat at her dining table, surrounded by the Dungarvan inspectors and Galbraith. Penny sat next to her holding Paul. She looked up, then refocused on the toddler.
Little Paul fussed and squirmed in her lap. His cheeks were flushed, showing signs of a fever, and his eyes were glazed.
Siobhan glanced up at Lassi, flashing her a wan smile. Then, she turned back to the Garda.
“Tell us about Dylan’s movements the night before,” Inspector Brown said. She hunched over a notepad, her pen at the ready. Her gray hair framed her face like a helmet.
Siobhan sniffled. “He drove into Waterford City to get some computer stuff he needed and couldn’t bloody wait for Amazon to deliver. He said he would get dinner in the city to miss rush hour. He got home about ten o’clock.”
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“Had he been drinking?” The inspector didn’t look up from her notes.
Siobhan paused before answering. “Well, I did smell alcohol on his breath but I assumed he had a pint or two with dinner. Dylan wasn’t a big drinker.”
Inspector Brown tapped her pen on the notepad. “Did he mention running into anyone in Waterford City?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Paul began to whimper. He batted Penny’s cheek with his palm.
“Ouch,” Penny said. “You little…” She grabbed his hand and rose, jiggling him on her hip.
Paul’s whimpers turned to wails. He arched his body in a backward bow, making it impossible for Penny to keep a good hold on him.
“Do something, will you, girl?” Penny said. “The child’s as hot as hot can be.”
Lassi set her medical bag on the floor and stepped toward the child, ready to take him. Then, she hesitated. Wait. What about my fecking electric current condition? What if I drop him or electrocute him? Drawing her head back, she tentatively slid her hands under Paul’s armpits. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Father Ward staring at her, his eyebrows stitched in concern.
Paul didn’t scream or yelp, however. Instead, he immediately quieted and reached for her.
Penny let out a huff.
“There we are.” Lassi brought him close to her chest, instinctively patting his back.
He rested his head on her shoulder.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh. There’s a good lad.” She kissed his forehead, noting the heat, and paced in a small circle. “Poor thing, you’ve caught a cold or some such.”
Inspector Conway rose from his chair and wandered toward Lassi. In a somewhat high-pitched squeaky voice, as if he never finished puberty, he remarked, “You have quite a way with babies.”
She snorted. “Do you think? I’m a labor and delivery nurse. I’d bloody well better have a way with them.” She turned away from him and sneaked a glance at Father Ward. “Father, would you mind bringing my satchel into the front room? I’d like to have a look at young Paul, here.”
“Of course,” he said, smiling broadly, perhaps glad she finally acknowledged him.
She strode past him.
He followed her and, from the clomping of the extra footsteps, so did Conway and maybe even Penny.
In the front room, she settled on the blue plaid couch, with Paul in her lap.
Father Ward set her medical bag by her feet and stood next to it, at the ready.
A fire crackled in the fireplace, warming her bones. The rustic mantel held more photos of Paul, Siobhan, and Dylan, smiling and laughing.
Every time she glanced at one of the Riordan photos, something pinched her heart. This family kept the light alive in Bally. The town probably couldn’t handle all their love and joy.
Penny held her hands before the flames, saying, “It’s so cold out there. I haven’t been warm for hours.”
Lassi cut her a sidelong glance, then turned toward Father Ward. “Open the bag, will you, Father? And get my thermometer out for me, please.” She kept up her cooing and soothing sounds toward Paul, bouncing him on her knee. “There’s a good lad. You’re going to be all right, aren’t you, Paulie?”
Father Ward crouched, opened the satchel, and rummaged around.
“So,” Conway said in his pre-pubescent voice. “Where’s your mum’s family from?”
“My mum and grand-mum lived in Dublin. Some are from here but I haven’t paid much attention to my family tree. Why do you want to know?”
Father Ward started to hand her the thermometer.
“There’s a box of little plastic covers in my bag, Father. Wou
ld you fetch one, please, and put it over the tip?” An image of a condom being rolled over something besides a thermometer flashed through her mind. Stop it, stop it, stop it. Stay professional and quit thinking Father Ward even has a cock. I’ll bet he looks like a Ken doll down there with a smooth plastic bulge. She took Paul’s hands, put them together, and kissed his fingertips, reciting, “One little piggy, two little piggy’s...”
Paul smiled.
“Just curious,” Conway said, sidling closer to her. “All of them?”
After fitting a protective cover over the tip, Father Ward extended the thermometer.
She took it from his fingers, wincing when a tiny spark sizzled between them. She hoped he hadn’t noticed. “What are you still on about, Inspector? My family?”
He nodded.
“Well, Great-Aunt Roberta lived here, of course. That’s why I’m here. She died, you know. More like withered to death.”
“I didn’t know that. My condolences.”
Lassi ignored him, focusing on Paul. “I’m going to touch this to your ear, Paulie, and then you’ll hear a wee beep.”
He blinked and tried to grab for the thermometer.
“No, no, this is for me, Paulie.” In a soft voice, she said, “See if you can find him a toy, would you, please, Father?”
He nodded and glanced around the front room.
“There are the toys,” Penny said, pointing to the corner. She stepped away from the fireplace, toward a comfortable arm chair in the same blue plaid as the sofa, and sat down. “I’ve sat here in happier times, that’s for certain,” she said to no one.
Father Ward nodded, got to his feet, and strode toward the basket.
Lassi couldn’t help but ogle his fine ass as he made his way for the toys. Her foot began to twitch.
Penny met her gaze and smiled.
Lassi whipped her attention toward Paul.
“Was Roberta born here in Ballynagaul?” Conway asked. His gaze landed on her bobbing foot.
She forced it to stop jack-hammering.
He settled on the arm of the sofa, far too close for comfort.
Whiffs of the inspector’s body odor tickled her nose, and not in a fun kind of way.
Father Ward stepped toward her, handing Paul a plush, stuffed dog. Then, he sat next to her, on the opposite side as Conway. He clasped his hands over his knees and leaned on his forearms as if in prayerful reflection.
Lassi scooted toward Father Ward and away from Conway as best she could while holding Paul. Father Ward is probably begging for forgiveness same as I should be doing. Lassi jiggled Paul on her knee. “What do you think, Paulie? Do you like that toy?”
Paul put the toy to his mouth and began gnawing on it like a puppy with a bone.
“Roberta? Where’s she from?” Conway pressed.
“What about her?” Lassi snapped. “And why do you care?”
“I told you, I’m merely curious.”
Lassi eyed his pointy face. “It sounds like I’m being questioned.”
“Do you feel like you need to be questioned?” Conway slid off the arm of the couch, crowding her.
“No more than I feel like I need to be squished by you. Please move so I can do my job.”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t know. My mum might have said something about it a long time ago, but honestly, I can’t remember. Why don’t you ask Penny, here?” She gestured across the room. “And move. I need to lay the child down so I can finish my examination.”
After giving her a quick, glowering gaze, he rose to standing and headed toward Penny.
The two of them began chatting about some bullshit or another.
Lassi settled Paul on his back next to her. She had to scoot closer to Father Ward to make more space for the child. Her back pressed against his warmly delicious thigh.
He didn’t move away.
“Let’s get to that temperature now there’s room to move, shall we, Paulie? Here we go.” She gently pressed the tip of the thermometer into his ear. “And there’s the beep.”
Paul continued to chew on the stuffed dog.
“Well, there’s a wonder.” She stared at the results in the tiny display.
“Is it high?” Father Ward leaned over her shoulder.
She wanted to melt into him but kept her cool. “Not at all.” She held it up for him to see. “His cheeks are no longer flushed, either. He’s not spitting up, pooping, snotting, or vomiting.” She tickled Paul’s tummy. “You must have a hearty immune system, Paulie. It seems you’ve skirted your cold.”
A shudder rolled up her back. She turned to see Conway’s beady eyes directed at her. “What? Is it against the law to note the condition of the child, Inspector?” Good Christ, I’d like to strangle his skinny neck. It would only take one hand to do it. Her attention slid to Father Ward.
He studied her with somber regard.
Are they stunned to witness proper nursing care in this village? She shook her head and brought her gaze back to Paul.
A cheery ringtone filled the air. Lassi glanced for the source of the intruding noise.
The phone lay on the side table next to the couch.
“That’s my phone, Lassi. Will you answer it for me, please?” Siobhan called from the dining room. “Take a message, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Sure thing.” Lassi reached for the smart phone and slid the icon to answer it. “This is Lassi Finn.”
“Lassi! It’s Ailis. I just got home and heard what happened. What a tragedy. Poor Siobhan!”
Lassi frowned. “You just got home from where? Weren’t you at the murder scene this morning?” She slid the icon to speaker phone.
“No, I, uh...I was in Waterford City yesterday for a closing. I decided to have dinner and stay the night instead of driving back.”
“What do you mean, you were in Waterford City last night?” Lassi’s frown deepened. Her gaze slid toward Conway.
He studied the phone in her hands with suspicious, narrowed eyes.
Lassi held back the bile threatening to explode from her throat. She was in the same town as Dylan? And now he’s dead?
“I don’t suppose you happened to see Dylan last night, did you?” she asked.
Ailis gave a nervous giggle. “I might have run into him at the pub.”
“Might have, or did?” Lassi pulled the phone back and glared at the screen, then put it to her ear again.
“Well,” Ailis said in a breathy voice. “I did. And, he invited me to join him.”
Chills prickled Lassi’s scalp. Is Ailis somehow involved in this murder? One glance at Conway told her he thought the same thing.
Chapter 12
After handing Paul to his mama, while pointedly ignoring Conway and even more pointedly ignoring Father Ward—which meant overlooking her own roaring needs—Lassi exited the Riordan’s cottage. As usual, the wind screamed and howled. It billowed around her like the naughty tease of a bully. No sign of stars shone in the twilight sky. Too many stupid clouds. As she walked toward her great-aunt’s house, Lassi’s legs felt heavy. Her heart felt heavier. It’s this goddamned Ballyna-gravity. She needed a good long nap, a good long hug, or...Something to distract me from Cillian...Father Ward...whoever the feck he is.
As she strode down the hill, she passed the place where Father Ward had beelined her to the beach, to the empty grave. She shivered, pulling her coat tight. That could serve as a distraction. What are the chances of getting turned-on standing next to a grave? But then she remembered his kiss. There’s no escape. I’ll head down there, anyway.
Her mood lightened as she neared the beach. The ocean always had a soothing effect on her, even in Ballyna-nightmare.
The waves continued their persistent heaving, lashing the shore like whips. The wind gusted with a fury. She leaned into her trek, determined to visit the grave site. When she stood next to it, her heart began to race. Ripples of fear drew gooseflesh from her skin. She brought her hand to her mouth and star
ed, unblinking. The dirt around the hole had been freshly disturbed.
“Fecking hell. It’s been razed again. Who in their right mind vandalizes a grave site twice? What’s down there? Buried treasure?” She backed away from the burial site. Her hair whipped around her face, stinging her cheeks and eyes. “So, why did Father Ward not want to tell the police about this? I think they ought to know. I’m going to get to the root of things.” She spun on her heel and raced up the hill toward town.
When she reached the edge of the village, she stood, torn in indecision. Garda first, or confront Father Ward? Her body throbbed its preferences. All right, then. I’ll make this fast.
Her arms pumping, she marched toward the church. She tried to throw open the huge, wooden doors, carved with a cross, but they weighed a ton. Instead, she tugged, heaved, and wrestled them until she could slip through. She crossed over the stone foyer, heading for the pews.
She hadn’t set foot in a church since she was a child. It held more of a museum-like quality than a sacred institution.
The walls were lined with stained glass. At the front, Jesus hung from a cross. Candles, in tall brass holders, burned softly, lending an almost romantic glow to the place. If it wasn’t a church, that is.
A clatter brought her attention beyond a doorway to the right.
Lassi tip-toed toward it.
Father Ward’s voice boomed from behind the door. “All right. Good bye,” he said.
Is he on the phone?
The door hung ajar, giving her an excuse to barge in. “Father Ward,” she said, pushing open the door.
He stood behind his ancient-looking, wooden desk.
She scanned him, swallowing back her lust. No jacket. His forearms are huge. And his hips would support my legs wrapped around him all cozy and naked.
His mouth dropped open. His hand hung mid-air, still clutching the old black handset. He gave her a blank, deer-in-the-headlights stare, like she’d caught him with his pants down—which was a very appealing thought.
