by Zara Keane
“Did you see them drink shots?”
I nodded. “I don’t think Judd had any, but my sister tried at least one, and Theresa was downing them two at a time.”
“Did you notice anything unusual while Theresa was drinking?” Liam frowned at his notebook. “Did anyone sidle up to her? Or block her from your view?”
“And slip poison into her shot glass? They wouldn’t have had time. Theresa drank them the instant she picked them up.”
“So she grabbed a shot glass and knocked it back right away?”
“That’s about the size of it. If someone spiked a shot glass with poison, they were taking a huge risk. Anyone could’ve taken it, including me.” I shuddered at the thought. I didn’t recall Theresa drinking a non-alcoholic shot, but what if one of the kids had picked up the wrong glass? The consequences didn’t bear thinking about.
“Who was near Theresa when she chose her shot glasses?” he asked.
I screwed up my forehead, replaying the events of last night in my head. “My sister and Judd, of course. They were at the same table as Theresa. Then at the table next to theirs, I recognized Dolly O’Brien. Oh, and Coco strode down the aisle to chat with one of the waitresses. I wasn’t able to hear what they said, but they were nowhere near Theresa.”
Con slammed his glass down on the coffee table. “Sorry, guys, but I have to get moving.”
Liam raised an eyebrow but didn’t try to stop him. “Fair enough. I’d still like to take a look around the set in daylight and ask a few questions. Is it okay if I commandeer your security team if I need help?”
“Sure, sure.” Con was already at the door, itching to flee. “Whatever we can do to help.”
“Am I still due to film today, Con?” I asked before the director had a chance to make good on his escape plan.
He drew his eyebrows together. “Are you feeling up to continuing your investigation, Maggie?”
“Yes,” I lied, ignoring the insistent throbbing in my wrist. “After witnessing Theresa’s collapse, I’d welcome the distraction.” And it gave me an excellent excuse to keep asking questions.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you both later.” Con scurried out the door as if he was afraid we’d delay him further with awkward questions.
“That was an exercise in frustration,” I said after the door shut behind the director. “Con’s the dictionary definition of cagey.”
“I agree. He’s hiding something.” Liam took my hand in his. “Are you sure you’re up to nosing around the film set all day? There’s no shame in bailing and going home. Lenny’s still here, after all. He can take over the investigation. And I’m on Dolphin Island regardless. I can help him.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I want to keep going. I’m worried that Theresa’s death is somehow connected to those letters.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I should’ve followed my gut and confided in you, with or without Theresa’s permission.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Maggie. We don’t know that she was murdered. And even if it turns out she was, you’re not responsible for her death. Theresa was an adult. If she was receiving regular death threats, she should’ve gone to the police months ago.”
I drank the last of the coffee and got to my feet. “Seeing as I’m sticking with Con’s case, I’m due on set in just over an hour. I’m going to use the time between now and then to tour the Poison Garden again.”
“Rather you than me.” Liam pulled a face. “My one and only time in there, I couldn’t get out fast enough.”
“Really?” I laughed. “But the plants look deceptively innocent.”
“That’s what I mean. The garden’s way too peaceful for my taste. It’s like a scene in a horror movie, just before the killer plants come alive. I can understand why the caretaker keeps it under lock and key.”
My eyes widened. “The gate wasn’t locked when I was there yesterday.”
“That’s odd.” Liam blinked. “Noel Tate, the castle’s caretaker, is responsible for lending the key to visitors. I don’t know if the film crew members have extra keys. We’ll need to talk to him and ask why the gate was left open.”
“Tate? Any relation to Cormac Tate, the school principal?” Cormac was my cousin Julie’s boss, and his son, Oisin, was her former crush.
“Noel is Cormac’s older brother.”
“Maybe Noel gave the key to Judd and Merry yesterday,” I suggested. “In the heat of their argument, they might’ve forgotten to lock the gate after them.”
Liam nodded slowly, deep in thought. “Yeah, that’s possible.”
“Do you know where Noel’s office is? I’ll ask him about people who’ve borrowed the key when I ask for it this morning.”
“Noel doesn’t have a fixed office in the castle yet. The renovations are only recently completed, and the film company has taken over the entire premises for the weekend. Until they leave, Noel is still working out of his cottage near the bird sanctuary.”
I made a quick calculation of the distance between the castle and the bird sanctuary. “Well, that torpedoes my cunning plan. I won’t make it there and back in time for my scene.”
Liam glanced at his watch. “I have an idea. How about we commandeer one of the movie crew’s golf carts, and I drive us over there?”
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Nah. We need to reshoot the wedding scene, this time without last night’s unscripted drama, but that won’t happen before this evening. I can use my clout as a police officer to get out of our next rehearsal.”
“If you can make it work, I’d appreciate the ride.” I cast a mournful look at my sling. “It’s not as if I can drive myself at the moment.”
“Why don’t we meet outside the main entrance in ten minutes? I have to tell Coco I won’t be available for the rehearsal, and I need to corner a security guard to get a key for one of the golf carts.”
“Sounds good. See you in ten.”
After Liam left, I stepped outside the castle and basked in the morning sunshine. Despite the awfulness of Theresa’s death, a stirring of excitement lent a spring to my step. Brain fog or no, we were on to something. What that elusive something was remained a mystery. But I had a tingling feeling that our conversation with Noel Tate would prove to be enlightening.
23
Noel Tate’s cottage reminded me of my aunt Noreen’s: whitewashed walls, bright red half-door, and windowsills covered in colorful blooms. In contrast to my aunt’s ramshackle residence, Noel’s cottage was impeccably maintained. When Liam and I opened the front gate, we stepped into a lush garden that, like the Poison Garden, showed no signs of having suffered from the bad weather of the previous weeks.
We’d taken no more than two steps when we spotted the man we’d come to see. Noel Tate was an older, craggier, less fashion-conscious version of his brother. Although, to be fair, it was hard to cut a swath in gardening clothes. The man was hard at work pulling weeds from his immaculate lawn, but the creak of the gate had alerted him to his uninvited guests. He peered at us from beneath a floppy hat. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Tate?” Liam stepped forward and offered the man his hand.
Noel Tate regarded it dubiously and raised his dirt-streaked gardening glove. “Not sure you want me shaking your hand, son.” The man got to his feet, wincing as he stretched his back. “I suppose you want to borrow a key to the Poison Garden.”
I darted a glance at Liam before responding. “We do,” I said, “but that’s not the only reason we’re here.”
Noel removed his floppy gardening hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. A streak of dirt replaced the sweat, but he didn’t appear to care. “Are the pair of you from the film crew?”
“We’re extras for a few of the Dolphin Island scenes,” Liam said. “I’m the sergeant in charge of Whisper Island Garda Station. And this is Maggie Doyle. She runs Movie Reel Investigations.”
“Ah.” The older man’s craggy face split into a m
erry smile. “I thought you two looked familiar. I didn’t recognize you out of uniform, Sergeant. And as for you, Maggie, the last time I saw you was when you exposed your backside during the St. Patrick’s Day Runathon.”
Heat crept over my cheeks. I’d tried hard to forget the indignity of my running pants splitting during a charity race. Before I had a chance to muster a semi-appropriate response, Liam swooped in and rescued me.
“She split her pants,” he said, “while racing to catch a killer. Now that’s dedication for you.”
“I suppose it is,” Noel said, still chuckling. “Now, if it’s not just the Poison Garden key you’re after, how can I be of service?”
“A woman collapsed during filming yesterday,” I said, regaining my composure. “She ran a summer food truck on Whisper Island.”
“Theresa Crawley. I heard she died.” Noel’s eyes swiveled toward Liam. “Is that why you’re here? Was her death suspicious-like? Are you looking for poison?”
“What makes you ask that?” Liam countered, keeping his tone neutral.
Noel guffawed with laughter. “I didn’t come down in the last shower, Sergeant. Apart from the director, every person I’ve met from the film set has complained about mysterious accidents. Do you think Theresa’s death was connected?”
“I don’t know,” Liam admitted, “but I have to consider the possibility.”
Noel removed his gloves and tossed them onto a bench in front of his cottage. “How can I help shed light on the subject?”
I glanced at Liam. “I don’t know that you can, Mr. Tate—”
“Call me Noel, please.”
“Noel,” I amended. “We have a few questions about the Poison Garden.”
The man inclined his head. “Fire away.”
“Who looks after it?”
“I do,” he said with a beam. “Always have, even when the rest of the castle gardens ran wild.”
I frowned. “I thought you were Dunfarrig Castle’s caretaker. Does that include gardening duties?”
Noel guffawed. “In all the years I’ve worked on Dolphin Island, caretaking at the castle has only included gardening. Until the renovations were completed, I didn’t go into the castle itself. Too dangerous. My job was to keep the gardens from getting completely out of hand, but they’re too big to be a one-person job. I concentrated on the Poison Garden and did the minimum for the rest.”
“So, you know every variety of plant growing in the Poison Garden?”
He nodded. “That I do.”
“Would you be able to provide us with a list?” I asked.
“Not that we’re saying Theresa’s death had anything to do with the Poison Garden,” Liam hastened to add, “but we need to consider every possibility.”
Noel’s shrewd eyes narrowed. “You think the woman was poisoned, don’t you?”
“We’re not saying that,” I replied, trying not to sound cagey, but failing. “Her death was sudden.”
“And dramatic, from what I’ve heard.” Noel scratched his temples. “There are twenty-one varieties of poisonous plants growing in the garden, but not all are poisonous year-round. If you give me an address, I can email you a list once I wash up.”
“That’d be great.” Liam withdrew a card from his wallet and handed it to the man. “We appreciate you taking the time.”
“No problem.” Noel’s jovial expression clouded over. “Between you and me, I’m not at all happy with the film people traipsing in and out of the Poison Garden. It’s not a novelty theme garden. Those plants are beautiful but deadly. I said as much to the council when they gave permission for filming at Dunfarrig Castle. I was overruled.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Traipse in and out? Do you mean the gate’s kept unlocked these days?”
“It’s not supposed to be left unlocked, but that’s what keeps happening.” Noel grunted. “These Hollywood people have no respect for the place.”
“What’s the key situation?” I asked. “We understood that you control the keys to the Poison Garden. Is that not the case?”
“These days, it’s only partly true. There used to be just the two keys. I kept one on my person at all times. The other was a spare for tour guides to use. We never let random tourists into the garden unsupervised.”
“And now?” Liam prompted. “How many keys are there, and who has them?”
“The film crowd insisted on extra keys being cut, for their convenience.” Noel’s delivery was biting, indicating just what he thought of this demand. “And the council let them, despite my objections.”
“Ouch,” I said.
“Ouch is right. Their idea of a compromise was telling the film crowd that I should control the keys.”
“How’s that working out?” I asked. “From your expression, I’m guessing, not well.”
A reluctant smile broke through Noel’s dour expression. “You can say that again. There are now four keys to the garden in total. The rule is that anyone wanting a key needs to sign it out. Unfortunately, the film people don’t seem to think the rule applies to them. One of them will sign out a key and blithely hand it over to a friend. And that director fellow still has two keys that he never gave back to me.”
Liam frowned. “In other words, you can’t keep track of who has what key and when?”
“Exactly. All I know is the name of the person who signs out one of my two keys, and the name of whoever returns it. The number of people who had access to the key in the meantime is anyone’s guess. The director ignores me whenever I remind him to return the two he checked out days ago, so I have no idea who he’s given them to.”
“That’s a cop and a private eye’s nightmare scenario,” I said with a groan. “We have no way of knowing who had access to those keys.”
“I know. I don’t like the situation any more than you do,” Noel’s face darkened. “Blame the council. They set this in motion.”
“I’ll have a word with the council about following proper safety protocol,” Liam assured him. “I understand it won’t be complete, but when you email me with the list of plants, can you include a list of everyone you know has borrowed the keys since the film crew arrived on Dolphin Island?”
“If you wait a moment, I can give you that information now.” The caretaker shuffled across the lawn in the direction of his front door, indicating we should follow. “I have everyone sign their name in a book.” Noel fumbled with the door latch and disappeared inside his cottage. A moment later, he reappeared, clutching a leather-bound notebook. He handed it to Liam.
“Thanks.” Liam opened the book, angling it so I could also see the pages.
According to the list, Con had borrowed a key twice since he’d arrived in the area a couple of weeks ago. Harper had taken a key two times and still had one in her possession. Seeing her name brought me malicious pleasure. I was happy to keep her on my suspect list. I was less thrilled by the sight of the next name in Noel’s book. “Coco borrowed a key the day before filming started, and returned it that same evening. I hope she’s not involved. I like her.”
“So do I, but she’s got the brains to pull this off.” Liam tapped a finger on the signature under Coco’s. “Who’s Kesha Ray?” Liam asked. “I don’t recognize the name.”
“She’s one of the makeup artists working on the set,” I said. “I spoke to her briefly yesterday. Seems nice enough.”
Liam glanced at Noel. “Is it okay if we snap a picture of this list?”
“Go ahead.” The caretaker frowned. “Why would any of these people want to kill Theresa Crawley? Most of the film crowd are American and have never been to Ireland before.”
Liam handed me the book to hold open while he took a photo with his phone. “I have no idea. We’re hoping Theresa died of a heart attack or another natural cause. Maggie and I are just being proactive and considering all possibilities.”
“And if the people signing this book aren’t the only ones using the keys,” I added, “then that opens up a whole new set of
possibilities.”
Noel grunted. “I guess so. I just can’t imagine anyone killing her.”
“She had a reputation for getting into arguments, though,” Liam countered. “Did you know her well? Maybe from ordering her food?”
“Nah. I only ate stuff from her truck once, and that was enough for me. I much prefer the food from that Magnum fella.”
“Why did you say you couldn’t imagine anyone killing her?” I asked. “Was it just a general observation because anyone being murdered on Dolphin Island seems out there?”
“I don’t know anything about her arguments with other people. Anytime she was here, she was nice to me.”
I shot a look at Liam before turning my attention back to the caretaker. “Are you saying Theresa came out to Dolphin Island regularly?”
He nodded. “Every month or so. She and her fella liked to visit the bird sanctuary, and they often asked to borrow a key to the Poison Garden.”
“Her fella?” Liam pounced on this tidbit of information. “Theresa came here with a boyfriend?”
His gaze clashed with mine. I couldn’t imagine Theresa dating anyone, but the possibility threw up questions we couldn’t ignore. If she had a boyfriend, was he someone we knew? Could he be on Dolphin Island? I turned to Noel. “Did you recognize him?”
He shook his head. “I don’t even know if he was her boyfriend. All I know is he was with Theresa whenever she stopped by to borrow a key.”
“Do you have a name for this guy?” I flipped back through the pages of Noel’s notebook, now interested in dates preceding the start of the film shoot.
“No,” Noel replied. “Theresa always signed the book herself.”
It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. “There,” I said, tapping a triumphant finger on a signature. “Theresa signed the book on June 12.”
Liam snapped a photo of the entry. “You said she came every four weeks, Noel?”
“Roughly.”
“And always with the same guy?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Noel screwed up his forehead. “The other thing I noticed about her visits is that they were during the week, not at weekends.”
