by Zara Keane
I continued to flip back through the notebook. “You’re right. Theresa always visited during the week.”
Liam snapped all the dates of Theresa’s visits, stretching back almost a year. “Can you describe the man who accompanied her?”
The caretaker shrugged. “Not well. He waited for her outside the cottage gate. I’d put him in his mid-fifties, or thereabout. Gray hair. Well built. Average height. Pretty nondescript, all told.”
“This is still great info, Noel,” Liam said. “Thank you.”
“Do you think it’s relevant to her death?” the caretaker asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s worth following up.”
I still held the notebook, thinking hard. “Isn’t it odd that Theresa visited Dolphin Island outside the summer season? She’s only on Whisper Island for around four months a year. At least three of the dates we noted are between mid-September and mid-May.”
“Seeing as ferries don’t come to Dolphin Island between November and March,” Liam added, “that leaves us with two periods of time Theresa came to the island when she wasn’t normally in the area.”
“We get visitors from all over, though,” Noel pointed out. “The Galway ferry comes out during the summer months and brings thousands of tourists.”
“Where does Theresa live when she’s not running her truck on Whisper Island?” I asked.
“I understood she lived in Dublin the rest of the year,” Liam replied. “Which is why it’s strange she’d come all the way out here when she’s not staying in the area. That points to her mystery man being local.”
“If they were frequent visitors to the Poison Garden,” I added, “Perhaps the man has knowledge of poisonous plants.”
“If the fellow was local, I’d probably recognize him,” Noel said, not sounding wholly convinced. “That said, I don’t get back to Whisper Island much these days, and there are newcomers. As for Theresa coming here out of season, it’s not all that unusual. We get a lot of regular visitors to Dolphin Island. Amateur bird enthusiasts love the island. We also get professional ornithologists coming out here to study the birds in the sanctuary. You’d be surprised at the number of familiar faces I see.”
“How many of these regular visitors ask to borrow a key to the Poison Garden?” I asked, flipping through the notebook again, this time looking at names other than Theresa’s.
“Well, now, let me see…” Noel considered my question for a moment. “There’s a horticulturist from NUI Galway. Parker, I think he’s called. His signature should be in the book.”
“Found him.” I tapped a spidery scrawl from June 8. “Let’s take photos of as many of these pages as we can, Liam.”
With my assistance, my boyfriend patiently photographed every page going back to the start of last summer. When we were finished, I handed Noel back the notebook. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.” The grooves on the man’s lined forehead deepened. “Something just occurred to me. It’s probably not relevant, though.”
“I’m hoping our entire visit isn’t relevant,” Liam said. “Shoot.”
“Here’s the thing—the notebook contains signatures from visitors who borrow a key from me, including tour guides who go with groups. What it doesn’t include are the names of the people I show around the garden.”
“Do you personally take many people to visit it?” I asked.
“Not many, but a few. My brother and nephew, for example. They often help me during summer weekends.”
“To clarify, you’re referring to Cormac and Oisin?” Liam asked.
“That’s right. They come out from Whisper Island to get a break from everyday life. They both like fresh air and nature. We have plenty of both out here.”
“Apart from Cormac and Oisin, who else have you taken into the garden recently?”
“One of the dancers—Terry or Merry, I think her name was—asked for a personal tour. Apparently, she loves gardening and was fascinated by the plants.”
The same Merry who’d had an argument with Judd yesterday outside the Poison Garden. I filed away this information for later consideration. “Anyone else?”
“Well, John, of course.” Correctly reading my confused expression, he added, “John Bellamy. We’ve been friends since we were at school.”
Liam snapped his fingers together. “The guy who runs that great fish restaurant next to the library?”
Noel inclined his head. “That’s the one. He loves coming out to Dolphin Island on his boat when he has a free weekend. When he’s here, he helps me in the Poison Garden.”
“Thanks for your time, Noel. We appreciate it. Can you give me your phone number in case I have follow-up questions?”
“Sure. I’m happy to help, Sergeant.” Noel fished in his pocket and drew out a couple of crumpled business cards. He handed one to each of us. “I keep these handy in case tourists need to contact me. Half the time, mobile phone reception doesn’t work on Dolphin Island, mind. The best way to reach me is to leave a message on my landline.”
“Thank you.” I shoved the card into my pocket.
“Now let me get you that key before I forget.” Noel disappeared into his cottage again, and returned with an old-fashioned key and the notebook. “If you’ll sign the book, you’re good to go.”
Liam pocketed the key, and I took the book. I filled out my name, address, and signature against today’s date. Once again, I returned the notebook to Noel.
I snuck a quick look at my watch. We needed to make tracks, or I’d be late for my scene. “I have one last question before we go.”
The caretaker nodded. “Go ahead, Maggie.”
“Before Theresa collapsed, she went very red in the face, sweated profusely, and made sudden jerky movements. I can’t say for sure how long before her collapse she ate and drank. I do know she had drinks in the marquee tent roughly thirty minutes beforehand. Can you think of a plant capable of causing that kind of reaction?”
Noel drew his brows together. “How long after her collapse did the woman die?”
“Four hours,” Liam supplied, “give or take.”
“Any hallucinations?” Noel asked. “Did she seem drunk or drugged?”
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t get that impression. Her eyes were wide open. She seemed aware she was ill but powerless to control her limbs.”
“Any vomiting?” Noel asked. “Or diarrhea?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Later, yes,” Liam said. “Apparently, she had violent vomiting and diarrhea right before she died.”
The caretaker fell silent for a moment, clearly considering what we’d told him. “Those symptoms can be caused by any number of plants we have in the garden,” he said after a pause. “This time of year, though, my money’s on hemlock.”
Despite the warm day, my limbs turned to ice. “I noticed hemlock in the garden yesterday. It’s the plant with the tiny white flowers, right?”
“Correct. It’s particularly dangerous when it’s in bloom.”
I sucked in a breath. “Which it is at the moment.”
The caretaker’s lips pressed into a grim line. “Exactly.”
“That’s great info, Noel.” Liam patted his pocket. “I’ll try to get this key back to you before this evening.
Depending on developments, I may have to question you formally.”
The older man waved a hand in a careless gesture. “Keep the key as long as you need it, Sergeant, and ask me whatever you want to know. I had nothing to do with that poor woman’s death, but I hope she wasn’t poisoned by one of my plants.”
“So do I, Noel. We’ll know more after the autopsy.”
Liam’s careworn eyes met mine, and a silent communication passed between us. Neither of us believed Theresa had dropped dead of a heart attack. Discovering more about the woman’s past was vital, especially the identity of her male companion—assuming he wasn’t a figment of Noel Tate’s imagination. Noel seemed like a decent guy, but I wasn’t p
repared to let him off the hook for being helpful. I’d encountered plenty of eager to please perps in my time. For now, our primary concern was asking the pathologist to look for signs of hemlock poisoning.
24
After Liam dropped me back at the castle, it was too late to visit the Poison Garden before my scene started shooting. I hurried to the meadow where the scene was filming and spent the next couple of hours talking to the cast and crew. Liam and I had agreed I’d drop the pretense and be open with people that I was asking questions with his permission.
My shift from extra Maggie to private investigator Maggie produced barely a ripple of reaction from the cast and crew. The mood on the set veered from frantic to toxic, depending on which group I spoke to, but getting people to open up to me was easy. The topic of Theresa’s death was on everyone’s tongue. Opinions were divided as to whether her demise was due to the mischief on set or natural causes. However, even the skeptics from yesterday were now convinced that someone was trying to wreck the movie.
When the scene wrapped, I dragged myself up the hill toward the castle. Weariness seeped into my bones with every step, and the heat wasn’t helping. The temperature had soared over the last twenty-four hours and my body had yet to adjust. In addition to feeling the heat, the effects of sleep and Liam’s cooking had worn off, as had my pain relief. I crested the hill and let out a happy sigh. Magnum’s food truck was open for business.
The thought of carbs acted like jet fuel. I closed the distance between me and the source of my lunch at speed. They’d chosen a gorgeous place to park. The sea breeze blew up from the cliffside and cooled me down after my hot trek up the hill. In the truck, both Magnum and Sammy were hard at work. While his dad handled the cooking, Sammy operated the cash register.
In front of the truck, Lenny propped an elbow on one of the several standing tables. He’d ordered a gigantic portion of fried fish and chips. When he spotted me, a smile spread across his face. “Yo, Maggie. How’s it hanging?”
I pointed to my sling. “It’s hung better. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.” His grin faded. “Did you hear Theresa carked it?”
“Yeah. Liam told me over breakfast.”
Lenny dunked a fry in ketchup in an absent fashion. “What did you make of her collapse? It was sudden, no? Like, she seemed fine earlier.”
“Yeah, I don’t like it. I’ll grab food and join you and we can talk more.”
“She was an awful woman,” he said, as though he hadn’t heard me. “I feel bad she’s dead. I’m mostly relieved I won’t have to dance with her again, though. Does that make me a terrible person?”
I squeezed his arm. “No, just honest. Listen, we need to talk about Theresa’s death and the reason we’re on Dolphin Island. I don’t want the whole set overhearing. Can we talk here if we keep our voices low?”
Lenny looked around. “I think so. We know each other well enough to talk in code if we need to.”
“Great. Want anything else while I’m ordering?”
He gave me a sheepish grin. “I could manage another portion of chips.”
I regarded the mountain of chips already on his plate. “Tell you what. I’ll order a fish-and-chips combo, and you can have my fries.”
“Sounds good.”
I joined the line that snaked in front of the truck and waited for my turn. Harper and Judd were at the top of the line, deep in conversation. In contrast to his interaction with Merry yesterday, Judd seemed almost solicitous of Harper. Interesting… Had I been wrong about him breaking her heart? Or was he merely trying to weasel his way back into her affections?
By the time Harper and Judd’s order arrived, I was no closer to deciding. From the woman’s horrified expression when she received her food, Judd had chosen the venue. Instead of claiming a spare standing table, they left the food-truck area and disappeared behind a group of tents.
When it was my turn to be served, Magnum was thrilled to see me. He lowered his lashes in a terrible attempt at a smolder. “Hey, Maggie. You’re looking hot as always.”
I couldn’t return the compliment. In addition to a Hawaiian shirt, the guy wore a pink apron featuring dancing flamingos.
I coughed away a laugh. “Hey, Magnum. Love the apron.”
“Isn’t it great?” He preened with delight. “I picked it up the last time I was in Miami. Maybe next time I head out there, you can join me for some fun, sun, and—”
“Tempting,” I said, cutting him off before things got awkward, “but I’ll pass.”
Sammy rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Dad? Stop flirting and start frying.”
His father chuckled. “You’re a slave driver, son. Now, what can we do you for, Maggie?”
“I’ll have what Lenny’s having, only a smaller portion. And I’ll take a coke to drink.”
“Righto. I’ll get your order ready, and you can settle up with Sammy.”
Magnum’s son appeared less enthusiastic to see me than his father was. Clearly, he had yet to forgive me over the Quibbles incident on Thursday. Would he forever hold my failure to pay him for a dud lead against me? Even the generous tip I gave him failed to cajole him out of his bad mood.
“Something up, Sammy?”
The boy’s mouth dropped. “With Caoimhe and Hannah bailing, I don’t get to be an extra anymore. They’ve cut our entire table out of the script.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe they’ll find you a job in a different scene.”
He stared moodily at the cash register. “Maybe.”
When my food was ready, I took my tray over to Lenny’s table. In the short time since I’d left him, Lenny had polished off all his fish and most of his fries. The food had perked up his mood.
“Hungry much?” I shoved my carton of fries over to him. “Help yourself.”
“It’s all the dancing,” he said between mouthfuls. “It’s making me hungry.”
“How’s the dancing going now that Theresa’s no longer your partner?”
“Awesome,” Lenny boomed, then caught my warning look. “Sorry,” he whispered. “It’s just that dancing with Dolly O’Brien is a million times better than partnering with Theresa. Dolly doesn’t insult me the whole time or trample over my feet.”
“From what I saw of Dolly’s dancing last night, she’s the most talented of the amateurs.”
“By a country mile. Did you know she used to run a dance school with her ex-husband?” Lenny asked. “They focused on ballroom dancing. I told her she should offer lessons on Whisper Island.”
“What do the other dancers have to say about Theresa’s death?” I asked, steering Lenny onto the topic we needed to discuss.
“Plenty. Between Coco’s smashed tea set and Theresa cocking up her toes, there was more gossiping than dancing at this morning’s rehearsal.”
A cold foreboding turned the food in my mouth to dust. “Coco’s beautiful china cups got smashed? When?” I didn’t bother to ask if the damage was accidental. Malice aforethought seemed to be the standard operating procedure on this movie set.
“Oh, of course.” Lenny slapped his forehead. “You missed that drama. After the paramedics carted Theresa away, Coco went to her dressing room to make tea. She let out a preternatural howl, and we all came running. Someone had smashed her entire china cup collection to smithereens.”
While the crime paled in comparison to Theresa’s potential murder, I hurt for Coco. “How awful. She was proud of those cups.”
“Yeah. It’s also a sense of violation. Coco’s aware someone on this set deliberately destroyed something she held dear. For all she knows, it’s a person she works with every day.”
I hugged my arms around my body, momentarily forgetting my sling. A vicious jolt of pain was an unpleasant reminder. “What’s the consensus on Theresa’s death?”
“There isn’t one. Dolly O’Brien and a few of the Whisper Island crowd insist she keeled over from a heart attack. Everyone else is convinced the film set is cursed.” He
paused mid-chew. “I saw you and Liam hightailing it in a golf cart earlier. Is he letting you help him investigate Theresa’s death?”
“There’s no official investigation as yet, but Liam’s pretty sure she didn’t die of natural causes. He’s gone to Galway for her autopsy. We should know more later today.”
“So what were you two up to this morning? Did you sneak off for a romantic rendezvous?”
“I wish.” I filled him in on our meeting with Noel Tate, including the detail about Theresa’s male companion.
When I finished, Lenny whistled. “Well, that’s a turn up for the books. Who’d have thought Theresa would have a boyfriend?”
“We don’t know he’s her boyfriend. He might be a relative. Or a friend.”
“Or a business associate,” Lenny added. “I never trusted Theresa. I wouldn’t put her past being involved in dodgy dealings.”
“Neither would I.” I took a bite of my fish and moaned involuntarily. “Gosh, this is good.”
“I told you Magnum knew his way around a deep-fat fryer.” He winked at me. “Aren’t you tempted to take him up on his offer of a trip to Miami?”
I pretended to gag. “You overheard that conversation?”
“Everybody did. Liam had better make an honest woman out of you before Magnum spirits you off in the Magnum Mobile,” he teased, grinning at the heat creeping up my cheeks.
Liam and I had never talked about marriage, and his mentions of us moving in together had me thinking about making a life with him. Was I ready for that? “Trust me, Liam doesn’t need to worry about competition from Magnum.” I took a bite of fried fish, effectively signaling an end to this topic of conversation.
For once, Lenny took the hint. He shoved more fries into his mouth, and we both focused on our food for the next couple of minutes. “How should we proceed?” Lenny asked after he’d polished off the last of my fries. “Want to divide and conquer? Why don’t I focus on Con’s investigation while you look into Theresa’s death?”
“Yeah. That’s a decent plan. Now that we’re unofficially helping Liam, you can choose whether or not to tell people you’re a private investigator.”
