Murder in Connemara

by Carlene O'Connor

  “Why wouldn’t she move?”

  Danny rubbed her shoulder. “Shock,” he said. “She froze.”

  What in the world was she doing in that spot? Why was she throwing flowers out of the vase? And how on earth had that chandelier come down?

  Chapter 26

  Tara had been thinking of nothing but Rose’s warning since Mimi’s death. Don’t let your light shine. Not once had she thought of her chandelier. Not once. But even if she had—there was no way of predicting what was going to happen, no indication that it wasn’t secure. Tara had barely left her sofa since the incident. Mimi had been trying to tell her something. What was it? Whatever she’d learned, something from her notebooks, it had proved deadly. She told the guards everything, but had they listened? Really listened?

  Uncle Johnny did his best to cheer her up. He was constantly bringing her a mug of tea and chatting with her. “This is where you’re meant to be, luv. Not some small shop in town. You belong in this mill. You can accompany Danny on salvages. I’m getting too old to travel, but a treasure hunter is what you’ll be and it’s a fine way to make a living, if I do say so meself.”

  “I’m not upset about the shop,” she said. Not compared to a woman losing her life there before it even opened. She’d never be able to work there now. Not that anyone would come if she tried. The grapevine had been swift, and the verdict was that the shop (and some said Tara herself) was a bit of bad luck. She was out an entire year’s worth of rent. But that wasn’t where her focus was, except fleetingly. She’d been going over and over it, wondering if it was her fault. Could she have prevented it somehow? Mimi had been so eager to speak with Tara until her phone dinged. That’s when she scurried over to the vase. What was the connection? Why on earth had she been yanking flowers out of the vase like a mad woman?

  Mimi’s text might hold the answer to that. But when the guards evacuated the guests, they’d searched every inch of the shop, but the phone was gone. Tara told the guards what Mimi said—how it sounded as if she’d found something in her notebook that she’d wanted to speak with Tara about, something that pointed to the killer. The guards were crawling over the crime scene now and additional guards had been dispatched to Mimi’s room at the castle to see if they could find her additional notebooks. Tara had this clawing feeling that they’d be gone just like the mobile phone. This had been no accident. Someone had rigged the chandelier to fall, then lured Mimi over to it with a text.

  Nothing had been found amongst the pieces of broken glass, and petals, and stems. It had been a ruse so that she’d be standing under the chandelier before it was let loose. The guards had collected the rest of the burner phones Veronica had given her guests. They ordered them to stop looking for their amends and turn over the list of locations marked in the books, along with the books. A second murder had spooked them, and everyone was on high alert. Tara was worried the guests weren’t going to oblige with all the requests, especially when it came to scouting out their amends. Was someone picking off the guests, one by one? It was a terrifying thought.

  How had someone rigged her chandelier? There was a vacant room above the shop. Tara was allowed to use it for storage and had planned on doing so in the future, but for now, she’d never even set foot up there. Someone must have gained access. She wished she could accompany the guards up to the space. Stop it. Tara was in over her head. There was nothing she could do. She would do what they’d wanted her to do all along. She would keep out of it and pray they found the killer.

  * * *

  Three mornings passed since the incident and Tara was just looking forward to her walk with Hound. Uncle Johnny was right, the mill was where she belonged. She could go on trips around Ireland, and Scotland, and Wales to source architectural items. What was she thinking—sticking herself in a shop? Maybe she’d return to her interior design roots as a side gig.

  Detective Sergeant Gable was standing by Galway Bay, holding a cup of coffee. She stopped. He nodded to her. He didn’t drink coffee, but he knew she did. She approached, her stomach knotted with dread of being scolded. “I’m going to stay out of it, I swear,” she said. “I haven’t spoken to a single one of them since the incident.” Just say it. The murder. Sergeant Gable thrust the coffee at her. She stared at it, determined to refuse, but then the heavenly aroma overpowered her and she took it. Well played. “Thanks.”

  “I need you to listen to me,” Sergeant Gable began.

  Tara held her hand up. “No need for a lecture. I promise you. I am out of it. I was wrong to stay involved with them in the first place. I got carried away—although I dare say someone targeted me. First leaving the advertisement for the old stone house, then leaving the book in my shop, the box of brooches, and maybe even planting that article in front of Veronica so she would think to come to me.” That hadn’t hit her until now. How diabolical. Who was this killer? “But that’s no excuse. And even though I didn’t invite them to my opening—I assure you, I did not—I’m convinced someone tampered with the chandelier.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I’ve placed a call to the lads who originally hung it for me—” Tara stopped as his words finally registered. “You believe me?”

  “Yes. I believe you. Every word.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t expected that. “Thank you.” She swallowed. “Do you think . . . there’s anything I could have done to prevent this?” Her heart thudded in her chest as she awaited his answer.

  “No. I don’t. If it hadn’t been in your shop I believe Mimi Griffin would have been murdered somewhere else.”

  “Oh.” A nagging child inside her wanted to ask, Then why was she murdered in my shop? But this was a horrible time for self-pity.

  “We need your help.”

  “Anything.”

  “We need you to go back to the castle, and continue visiting the places marked in the book, and report everything back to us.”

  Maybe not everything. Tara nearly spit out the coffee, and instead began to choke on it. He patted her on the back. His kind eyes stayed on her until she stopped coughing.

  “But you’ve forbidden them to continue searching for the amends.”

  “That’s why we need you.”

  “Need me to do what, exactly?”

  “We’ve convinced the group to stay on three more days. Once they leave, I’d say the chances of catching our killer are close to zero. Three days. That’s all we have to solve this murder. You’re close to them. We need you on the inside.”

  “I can’t.” She shook her head, wishing she’d never gone for a walk. This is why sometimes staying in your room was the best option. These people who insisted fresh air was good for you didn’t know what they were talking about. She was out. In her mind she was completely free of the murders.

  Although she knew she’d never stop thinking about them. If the killer wasn’t caught, it would be something that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

  “The music box,” she said. “We could follow up on that.”

  “I’ve got guards working on that. I need you with the suspects.”

  She sighed. Danny was going to go mental over the news. And this time not in a good way. “Alright.”

  “I’m sorry about your shop.” He cleared his throat. “But I think public opinion will change once we catch the murderer. Maybe you could even have a new start there.”

  She shook her head. “You think that’s what’s bothering me? My shop? A woman died.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. We’ve checked the room above. Someone loosened the chandelier and carved out a peephole. They lured Mimi to that spot and let the chandelier plummet.”

  “Evil.” She shuddered.

  “Yes. And if we don’t catch him, he’ll strike again.”

  Or her, Tara thought, but they weren’t here to discuss pronouns. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  They began to stroll along the bay.

  “We all know they’re going to continue their little treasu
re hunt despite our warnings. We’re going to give you a phone you can use to text me directly. Anything odd, out of place, out of the ordinary—changes in behavior—anything. You text me.” It was dangerous. What if the guests found out she was spying on them? “Unless you’re not up for it, and if that’s the case, I completely understand.”

  “I can do it.” She could. But should she?

  “We can compensate you as a researcher, or associate.”

  “I won’t accept payment.” She owed this to Veronica. And Nancy. And Mimi.

  “You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Not even your uncle. Everyone must think it’s your decision alone to join the ranks again.”

  “What about Danny?” This was going to cost her with him, big-time. But was there any real relationship to lose in the first place? Did she really want to be with a man whose moods changed faster than the skies over Galway Bay?

  “Especially not that hothead.” Sergeant Gable took out a cigarette and turned against the wind to light it.

  “Aren’t you putting me squarely in danger?”

  “We’ll have a guard tailing you. And we have another man on the inside. Veronica’s driver.”

  “Andy?”

  Gable nodded. “He’ll be driving you everywhere so you’ll never be alone.”

  “You’ve cleared him as a suspect?”

  Gable nodded again. “Besides every single valet telling us that they saw him in his vehicle during the time frame of the murder, we’ve also captured his image on camera. He was sleeping in the SUV, just like he said.”

  “He’ll know I’m a plant?”

  “Yes. If either of you text me, we’ll be there. Don’t allow any of them to lure you to any spot, or get you alone.”

  That was easier said than done. “If they’re still following the order based on proximity to the castle, then Connemara Stables is next. I believe Iona will search for her amends there.”

  Iona had a bum leg. Or claimed to. What happened to horses when they broke their leg? Was that why the location was chosen for Iona? She hated the thought. She hated herself for thinking it. But they were dealing with someone sick.

  “There’s one more thing you should know.”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ll be reopening Nancy Halligan’s case.”

  “Finally.”

  Sergeant Gable crossed himself, then patted Tara on the shoulder, and Hound on the head. “If it gets to be too much, we’ll cut you loose.”

  “I can handle it.”

  He nodded, then headed off, leaving her staring out at the glistening, ever-changing bay.

  * * *

  Danny was waiting for her at the mill, tossing his truck keys into the air and catching them. “Are you ready, Miss America?”

  Did he know? No, that was impossible. Unless he was stalking her. Which wasn’t his style. Sometimes she wished it was. “Ready?”

  “For our first salvage adventure. An old cathedral. It’s about a two-hour drive. We leave in twenty minutes.”

  An old cathedral. The freedom of a salvage. Hours alone with Danny. It sounded amazing. She really wanted to go. “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can.” He eyed her. “Why can’t you?”

  She shifted. “I have to go back to Ballynahinch. There are a few loose ends.”

  “You’re joking me.”

  “Just a few things I have to take care of.”

  “Such as?”

  “There are a few days left on my stay at the castle. How can I turn that down?” Sergeant Gable had paid for her stay at the castle. She was to spend the next three days there.

  “Absolutely not,” Danny said. “Get your things, we’re going on a salvage.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Tara Meehan.” He had never used her full name like that, not with that tone anyway.

  “Three more days. That’s it.”

  “Do you have a death wish? Is that it?”

  “I promise you. I do not.”

  “Give me one good reason.” He held up a finger.

  “Just one.”

  “I can get close to them,” she said honestly. “They trust me.”

  He shook his head. “We just watched a woman die. You almost died.”

  “That’s why I have to see this through.”

  “Stop saying you have to do this. I’m telling you. You don’t.” Gone was Danny’s stoic demeanor. There was a stubbornness behind his words, as usual, but this time she detected something else. Fear. This was Danny’s version of pleading with her.

  “I understand where you’re coming from. I hope you can understand why I have to see this through.” He shook his head, frustration oozing out of him. “Believe me. I’m going to take precautions.”

  “What precautions?”

  She shook her head. “That’s all I can say.”

  They locked eyes. “If you do this, we’re done.”

  The words hung between them. There were so many things she wanted to say. Mostly—There’s a we? But now was not the time. Danny turned and she watched as he got in his truck. She stayed until the taillights disappeared in the mist.

  * * *

  Uncle Johnny followed her to the luxury SUV that was idling outside the mill. Andy lifted his hand in a wave, then exited the vehicle, his eyes mirroring the worry Tara felt inside.

  “I forbid you to leave,” Uncle Johnny said as Tara handed her luggage to Andy.

  “You can’t forbid me,” Tara said. “And it’s only three days.”

  “Or it’s forever,” Uncle Johnny said. “This is madness.”

  Tara ran to him and ambushed him with a hug. She stood back, her hands gripping his arms. “I promise you. I’ll be okay. Please. I’m already fighting with Danny. I can’t lose you too.”

  His face softened. “These are the times you remind me of your mam.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She kissed him on the cheek, and ran to the SUV before she could change her mind.

  Chapter 27

  The riding stables were nestled in the valley of a rolling pasture, with trails leading out along the glistening bay. The weather was cool, but no sign of rain, and there was a crisp feeling of fall in the air. Fall was Tara’s favorite season, and she’d been warned there wasn’t much of it in Ireland, but today proved them wrong. Somewhere close by someone was burning peat, adding the perfect touch of tart and sweetness to the air. Majestic horses of all colors were lined up, saddled in rich leather, and waiting for their arrival. The instructor was a perky black woman in her sixties, wearing riding boots and a fantastic cowboy hat. Her long silver hair was pulled back in a braid that ran down to her leather belt. “I’m Tina O’Neill, your guide for the day,” she said. “Along with the horses.” Tara liked her immediately, and not just because she was American. She had a million questions for her, wondering how long she’d lived in Ireland, if she liked it here, and how long she’d been riding horses, but there was no time for chitchat.

  The group approached the horses, and Tina began pairing them up. Tara’s horse was regal and white. Tara was in love. Iona, who stood beside the largest horse in the pack, so black he was almost blue, stroked his nose. “I told Veronica that as a girl I used to love riding,” Iona said. “I can’t believe she remembered.”

  “Mimi got a diamond watch,” Elaine said. She was the only one not standing by her horse. She’d barely moved from the SUV. Andy, fiddling with an unlit cigarette, watched her with amusement.

  “She’s taking her watch to the grave,” Cassidy said. The rest of the group quieted her with disapproving looks. The guards actually had the watch; Tara had turned it over after the murder.

  “Maybe Veronica bought you a horse,” Eddie said.

  Iona tilted her head and stared at her horse, as if sizing him up for a lifetime commitment.

  “I don’t see why we all have to ride,” Sheila said.

  “Nobody has to ride,” Tina said. “But t
hese horses are all reliable and will do the work for you. All you have to do is let them.”

  “I’m stoked,” Iona said. “But if you don’t want to ride, don’t ride.”

  “Let’s do it,” John said, surprising Tara with his enthusiasm. “I could use a change of pace.”

  At Tina’s urging, they began mounting their horses. Tara felt a thrill as she swung her leg over and landed in the saddle. Her mother used to take her to stables in upstate New York in the fall. She hadn’t ridden since she was a teenager, and her heart swelled with the memories of trotting by trees bursting with color as the smell of campfires and apples filled the air.

  “I’m going to sit this one out,” Elaine said, plopping down on a bale of hay by the barn.

  “As will I,” Bartley said, pulling up the bale next to her.

  As they started down the path, one horse following the other, Tara relished the feel of the wind through her hair as the horses picked up speed near the bay. She was the last horse in line, which didn’t bother her a bit. She loved listening to the sound of their collective hooves beating out a steady rhythm. Driving by the mountains and the water had been awe-inspiring, but now, riding along them, Tara felt as if she wasn’t just looking at the scenery, she was a part of it. She’d almost forgotten she was here to suss out a killer. An hour flew by, and before Tara knew it, they were taking the path back to the stables. She knew one thing for sure. She was definitely going to do this again. For once the group was in harmony. Tara was so lost in the joy of the ride that she didn’t notice Iona had stopped to wait for her, until their horses were side-by-side.

  “Hey,” Tara said. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” Iona said. “But I think there’s something I should confess.”

  “Oh?”

  “You seem to have the confidence of the guards.”

  “Not really.” Did Iona know Tara was reporting back to them? She thought she’d been subtle.

  “That Friday night,” Iona said. “Veronica did approach me. She asked for my medical records.”

  “I see.”

  “No. You don’t. She already had them. All of them. I’ve sent her every scrap of paper from every doctor’s appointment.”