Bernadette opened her laptop and downloaded the suspect’s files.
The woman was Emily Murray, the man Dylan Quinn. Both of them had priors of some fraud and break and enters, but all of that was as juveniles. These two were in their late twenties.
Bernadette looked up and down the file and found nothing that seemed to be in the realm of the average hired killer. But was that what they were? They didn’t seem like professional assassins, not that she’d run into any, but when gang members in the drug trade hired a hit man to come to town, they did the job quickly, hardly missed, and never stuck around to finish the job. These two were committed, almost fanatical.
She sent the files to Detective Sullivan of the Garda SDU in Dublin and asked him if he’d found anything of interest on Brendan and Padraig.
Closing her computer, she went into the living room and sat beside her grandma who was still watching television. Chris had brought her a cup of tea and she was watching the dancers in the tight outfits that had been somehow glued to stay on. It was time for the elimination round. A big football player towered over his slight professional dance partner.
Grandma Moses had a smile on her face and chuckled as she watched.
“You find it funny, Grandma?” Bernadette asked as she watched the show.
“The tall man has legs like tree trunks and the ass of a deer. But he moves on the dance floor like someone who is learning to walk.”
Bernadette had to laugh. She’d seen Dancing with the Stars a few times, and in many cases, it was professional dancers trying to make a bunch of B list celebrities look good.
The football player got eliminated as the oohs and ahs sounded as the credits rolled. Grandma Moses shut off the television and turned to Bernadette.
Bernadette put her wine glass down and met her grandma’s gaze. Her deep brown eyes seemed to hold infinity somewhere behind them.
“I came to talk to you because of my dreams,” Grandma Moses said.
“I’ve had some troubling dreams myself, Grandma, but I hope I can help you.,” Bernadette said placing a hand on her arm.
“My dreams are about you.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve had them for three days now, they are always the same. That’s why I got into my truck and came south. I needed to warn you about them.”
Bernadette almost picked up her wine glass again. The dreams of Grandma Moses were serious. She’d once foretold in a dream that she’d get in serious trouble on a case in Mexico and she had. Somehow, Grandma Moses was in touch with the spirit world and they told her things.
“Ah…what exactly did you want to warn me about?”
“The ocean and the castle. You need to stay away from the castle with the cliffs by the ocean. That’s what I saw,” Grandma Moses said, her eyes clouding over as she said it.
Bernadette felt a shadow pass over her, as if an ancient spirit had flown across the room. This time, she did pick up her wine glass and take a drink.
“Thanks, Grandma, but I don’t have any plans for castles and oceans. Matter of fact, Chris and I have our wedding planned at Emerald Lake Lodge in May, and we want you to come as our guest—don’t we Chris?”
Chris looked in from the kitchen. “You booked Emerald Lodge? Since when?”
“I got the call this morning on my way to work. We have until Tuesday to confirm.”
Chris smiled. “Are you kidding? I have great memories of that place.”
Bernadette smiled back and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, me too.”
“The fishing was amazing there, don’t you remember?” Chris said with a wink.
“Yes, I do, and I’ll take you down later, in your sleep.” She winked back.
Uncle Cahal came out of the guest bedroom, he stood at the door and surveyed the room, his gaze resting on Bernadette with a smile.
“Ah, there’s my darling niece. How are you girl?”
“I’m fine, and you?” Bernadette asked in a flat tone that exuded as much warmth as a skating rink.
“Wonderful,” Cahal replied. He couldn’t help noticing Bernadette’s voice. He avoided the cold stare of her grandmother and made his way to the kitchen.
“What are you cooking there, lad?” Cahal asked of Chris.
“A simple baked salmon with sautéed vegetables and potatoes au gratin.”
“Smells lovely,” Cahal said, rubbing his hands. “Are there any bottles of Guinness left? Or did I drink them all?”
“I think you left one lonely bottle from last night,” Chris replied.
“Well then, I best rescue it,” Cahal said with a smile. He went to the fridge and opened it up. He took a big swig from the bottle and looked at it, “Ah, we Irish have a saying that beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.” He looked around, saw no one laughing, and took another swig.
Chris took the salmon and potatoes out of the oven and placed all the food on large platters. Bernadette set the table and placed wine glasses on the table.
“I invited Harvey to join us, but he might not be over for bit. He said he had to do some errands,” Chris said.
“That’s great,” Bernadette said. She knew that Chris had invited Harvey to be a referee in between Cahal and her grandmother.
Her grandmother liked Harvey, although she thought he talked too much, but he was a transparent sort. He never meant any harm to anyone and tried to do good things for people. To her, that was an honest man.
They sat at the table, leaving a place for Harvey. Chris poured wine for Bernadette and himself. Cahal decided he’d stay with his beer.
“Should we say the lord’s prayer before we eat, to bless this meal and this company?” Cahal asked.
“I don’t pray,” Grandma Moses said.
There was a moment of silence at the table. They looked in Grandma Moses’ direction.
She was staring at Cahal, he stared back. Like two bulls locked in battle.
“Now why is that?”
“When the white man came to Canada, he had the bible and we had the land. He said, here’s the bible, let us pray. We did. When we opened our eyes, the white man had the land and we had the bible,” Grandma Moses said.
“Ha, that’s a grand story,” Cahal said with a laugh. He drained his bottle of beer, took a water glass, and filled it with wine. He’d apparently decided he needed the wine after all.
“But it’s true,” Grandma Moses said without a smile.
“Well then, so it is, but bless us one and all in the lord’s name,” Cahal said. He took his glass and raised it in a toast to everyone.
Bernadette served her grandmother some salmon, vegetables, and potatoes and did the same for herself. This conversation was going downhill fast.
“I never got to ask you about the picture you showed me of my trip to Ireland when I was very young. I don’t seem to remember it, Cahal.”
Cahal served himself some food on the platter and looked up at Bernadette. “Ah, you were very young, I think about two years old. Your dad wanted to see if he could connect with some of his old music lads from the past, but it didn’t go well. He left with a bad experience. His old pals didn’t like his new sound from Canada, so off he went back to Canada.”
“Did you remember my dad traveling to Ireland, it must have been thirty-five years ago, grandma?” Bernadette asked.
“Your mom and dad disappeared for a while. They were angry with everyone, with your grandfather and me, with their family, I think even the spirits made them mad.”
“I have to ask you, Cahal, was my mother accepted by your family in Ireland?” Bernadette asked.
“Of course, she was. She was a wonderful mother to you. We all thought she’d taken to you right away,” Cahal said.
“What do you mean, taken to me?” Bernadette asked.
“Well, as you weren’t her child, we didn’t know if she’d feel right taking you as her own.”
Bernadette’s fork dropped to her plate. She looked at her grandmother, “Is this true?”
&nbs
p; Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Your mom and dad brought you to me when you were two. Your mom said you’d been born on Vancouver Island. But I believe you’re my granddaughter, and that’s what matters.”
“Are you trying to tell me I was born in Ireland, Uncle Cahal?”
“Well, yes, as delicate a subject as that is. Your father had a dalliance with a lass from another village, a bit of a roaming girl, as it were.”
“What’s a roaming girl?’
“You call them gypsies. Some call them Tinkers in Ireland, but that’s a bit derogatory. They are an ancient clan, made their way, the legend says, all the way from India and into Romania and then spread out throughout Europe. Some still call them the Roma.”
“I can’t believe this,” Bernadette said.
“Why not?” Cahal asked. “Chris told me today about your tremendous instinct and your courage. The gypsies have that, it’s a trait of theirs, and they are wily and intuitive.”
Bernadette took a drink of her wine and set her glass down. “And so are the Cree natives of the northern forests of Canada. That’s where I was raised.”
“Well, that’s wonderful,” Cahal said. “Your grandmother did a grand job of raising you, and look at you now, a prominent detective with the famed Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Your aunt is thrilled back home. I’s all she talks about.”
“There’s one problem with your story, Cahal,” Bernadette said.
“Now what might that be?”
“I have a birth certificate from the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria on Vancouver Island. It’s how I got into the RCMP. You have to be a Canadian or a naturalized citizen. I’m listed as a Canadian by birth.” She took a swig of her wine and smiled. This conversation was getting interesting. Especially when she was winning.
“Ah yes, about that. Your father had a man commit a bit of forgery on your behalf when he arrived back in Canada. I told him it was a bad idea. That he should never hide your true identity. That is when we had a bit of falling out, your father and me. He wouldn’t speak to me again after that.”
“Again, that’s a great story, Cahal, but I’ve seen my birth record online with the Canadian registry. Hard to forge that,” Bernadette countered.
“Really now, you think you couldn’t pay a person to enter a birth date onto a computer in your government. Your father told me he knew just the man who worked in the city of Victoria. Cost all of one hundred dollars back then and the man registered the hospital, your birth weight, and date of birth, and you went from one hundred percent Irish to a half and half, just like that,” Cahal said with a smile.
Bernadette leaned forward. “That is the greatest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
The front door opened, and Harvey Mawer walked in. “Am I too late for dinner?”
Chris jumped up from the table. “Perfect timing.” He grabbed a wine glass off the counter and poured Harvey some wine.
“That’s just great. What are we all talking about? The conversation looks lively.”
“Just doing some catching up,” Bernadette said as she poured herself more wine. She looked across the table at Chris. Tonight’s conversation in their bedroom would be interesting.
20
Emily Murray and Dylan Quinn sat in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil on the stove for tea. They’d found some biscuits in the cupboard and placed them on the table.
“I’d best see how the granny is doing,” Emily said.
“Why not just leave her?” Dylan asked. He pulled a biscuit out of the box and held it held between his thumb and forefinger to examine it.
“Because she might pee or shat herself and then we have to deal with the stink, don’t we? Do I have to think of everything?” Emily asked getting up from the table.
“Look, we stick her in the basement with the cats and be done with her,” Dylan countered.
“And if we’re stuck here for days on end, then what? Who cleans up the mess? I do that’s who.” Emily grabbed a chef’s knife from the kitchen drawer and headed into the living room.
The house was small, with tiny rooms and long hallways, built sometime in the mid 1960s. Emily thought that was a good thing, as these places were soundproof.
She entered the living room. “Hey, granny, do you need to go toilet? Nod your head if you do.”
Anna Lindkvist nodded her head up and down several times. She’d been lying there thinking about her ever growing bladder and the shame she’d feel if she had to pee on herself and her lovely sofa.
“Well then, let’s get you to the toilet,” Emily said. She lifted her up and cut the duct tape from her feet. “No clever stuff now, granny, I’m pretty quick with this knife. I’ll stick you if you get silly on me. You understand me?”
Anna nodded her head again. Emily took her to the toilet in the hallway.
“Nice addition this, a toilet in the hallway. Did you put that in then, granny?”
Anna nodded her head; her husband had put in the toilet and sink after they’d moved in ten years ago.
“Okay then, in you get,” Emily said. She pointed Anna to go into the toilet.
Anna put up her hands and motioned to them and then down to her dress. It was obvious. Unless Emily was going to lift up her dress and pull down her underwear, she needed her own hands.
“Aw, Christ, of course. Look I’ll let you use your own hands ’cause I’m not about to be wiping your privates for you, granny. Here you go.” She cut the duct tape off her hands.
Anna went into the toilet and relieved herself. She pulled the towel out of her mouth as she did so. “Thank you, dear, I was getting desperate.”
“Oye, I didn’t say you could take that out,” Emily said.
“Sorry, I’ll put it back as soon as I’m done. But if you wouldn’t mind, a spot of tea and maybe a biscuit before you muzzle me again would be welcome. I haven’t eaten in hours and I’m a bit dehydrated,” Anna pleaded. “I promise I won’t do anything silly.”
“Aw jeez, Dylan is going to kill me for this. All right then, granny, walk ahead of me into the kitchen.”
Anna washed her hands, straightened herself up a bit and walked slowly in front of Emily to her own kitchen that was now occupied by her hostage takers.
“What the hell, are you daft, Emily? Why did you take her bonds off?” Dylan asked, standing up at the kitchen table.
“She had to pee and she’s hungry and thirsty,” Emily said in her defense.
“I’m not having this. This is insanity, you bringing her in here,” Dylan said.
“I don’t care what you think. Sit down, granny. Do you take milk and sugar with your tea?” Emily asked.
“Just milk, my dear,” Anna replied.
Dylan stormed out of the kitchen muttering to himself.
Emily poured Anna some tea and put a plate of biscuits beside her. “There you go, granny. Now eat and drink up then I have to tie you up again.”
“You can call me Anna if you wish.”
Emily shook her head. “I prefer not to.”
Anna sipped her tea and held Emily’s gaze. “You plan to kill me before you leave, here don’t you?’
Emily stirred her own tea and stared at a biscuit. “There’s no telling what can happen. It’s all a bit fluid now, as they say.” She looked up and held Anna’s gaze.
“I can see you’re desperate. I’ve heard about the killings at the seminary and the hospital.”
“I thought your television didn’t work.”
“I’m old fashioned. I listen to the news on radio. It’s free,” Anna said with a smile.
“Well then, you know who we are, so be on your best behavior then, granny.”
Anna nodded her head and sipped her tea, then took a biscuit and held it up. “I’m not afraid to die.”
“If you do something stupid, I’ll make you afraid,” Emily cautioned.
“You don’t understand. My husband has been visiting me at night. He’s been standing in that hallway
right behind you. He told me it’s okay. So, I’m ready.”
“Are you just talking crazy now?” Emily asked.
“No, we old people know when it’s time. But I do have a favor to ask.”
“And what the hell would that be, then? You’re not in a position to ask favors, granny.”
Anna shrugged. “I just wanted to ask if you’d take a bunch of the sleeping pills I have in my medicine cabinet, grind them up and put them in my tea. I’d rather leave this world in sleep then at the end of your knife.”
Emily smiled. “I’ll see what I can do, granny.”
“Oh, and I have one more request,” Anna said as she picked up another biscuit.
“You are pushing the edge there now, granny.”
“Sorry, it’s just that if you’d keep the cats in the basement after you’ve killed me it would be appreciated. I love them dearly but if I’m not found in time, they will feast on my corpse. I don’t want the police to be given a fright when they discover my body.”
Emily shook her head. “That’s enough of your nonsense now, granny. Finish your biscuit and I’m tying you up again.”
Anna used a napkin off the table to dab her lips. “Thank you, you’ve been most kind.”
Emily took her back to the living room and bound her feet and hands with the duct tape and put duct tape over her mouth instead of using the tea towel. She went back to the kitchen to find Dylan there.
“She’s a daft one,” Emily said, sitting back at the kitchen table and pouring a cup of tea.
“Don’t get attached to her. We need to off her before we leave tomorrow.”
“What’s the plan then? Are we to make a run for it?” Emily asked.
“Not until we finish what we came for.”
“How’s that to happen, then? They’ll have him surrounded by armed guards now. We’ll never get close.”
“You’re right, we won’t, but I can,” Dylan said as he looked out the window into the cold night sky.
Emily shook her head putting her hand on Dylan’s arm, “Don’t be a daft bugger. They’ll shoot you on sight. I tried to get to him dressed as a nurse, and it didn’t happen. What do you think you’ll do—dress up as doctor?”
Deadly Ancestors: A Bernadette Callahan Mystery (Bernadette Callahan Detective Series Book 5) Page 11
