“How’s that gonna help us?” Jerry demanded.
“Well, let’s widen the pool just a bit. Say he’s not local, and he’s not Irish. Who else do we have wandering around this part of Cork?”
“Ah, I see where yeh’re headed with this,” Seamus said. “Who’s here long enough to make enemies, yet still be no more than passin’ through?”
“Exactly,” Maura told him. “It’s summer, so there are lots of strangers around, or short-timers. But who?”
“Travellers, fer one,” Seamus said firmly. “If they’re not the settled ones.”
Maura looked blankly at him. “Huh?”
“Ah, yeh’ve not heard of the Irish Travellers? They’re kind of a roving group, mostly. They have caravans and the like, and in the warmer months they, well, travel, from place to place, often with a set route year after year. In the colder times they settle in one place or another, so the kids can get some schooling.”
“Kind of like Gypsies?” Maura asked.
“Don’t yeh dare say that to a Traveller! Different races, and I do mean by blood. And sadly, the Gypsies aren’t quite honest—they’re often petty thieves, or they drum up cash by fakin’ road accidents. The Travellers may follow a path that seems similar, but they’re more often honest. And they’re Irish by blood, although it goes back a ways.”
“Wow, I’ve never even heard of them. Are there any around here?”
“Not precisely in this area, but there are some larger settlements—they’re often called halting grounds—up near Limerick, and others around Cork city.”
“And are they violent? I mean, would they be likely to kill someone?”
“Mostly they travel as families and mind their own business. Which is not to say that yer dead man wasn’t one of them, who ran afoul of a local man who bore a grudge or just didn’t like them. Let the gardaí look at that side—they do keep an eye on the Travellers, which is not the same as sayin’ they hassle them. Live and let live, as long as there’s no trouble.”
“So they go on our list?”
“They do. Only to see if there were any around this week. They may be on the move.”
Maura put the idea of Travellers away to think about later. “Okay, any other surprises? And before you laugh at how ignorant I am, remember that I don’t get out of this place much, and it’s usually late when I do. So there are probably lots of people I never see at all.”
“That’s why yeh have us, Maura,” Seamus said cheerfully.
Chapter Nine
Maura noticed Seamus checking his own watch. “You have somewhere to be?” she asked.
“I told the missus I’d move some hay to the upper field, and she’ll skin me alive if I don’t do it today. But I wanted to be sure we all know who we’re lookin’ for, casual like. Am I right, fellas?”
His cronies nodded. “We’re not lookin’ to do the job of the gardaí,” Jerry said, “but we talk to different folk than they do, and we hear things. People might not mention the word murder, but they might know if there’ve been any fights lately. Apart from the ordinary, that is.”
“That makes a lot of sense, Jerry,” Maura said. “Seamus, if you’ve got to go, let’s finish our list.”
“Right so,” Seamus said briskly. “This may be unlikely, but in the summer the blow-ins arrive—yeh’ve run into them in the past, Maura.”
“What, you’re saying some English or German or Belgian couple or family comes over here looking to try something different this year, like murder?” She hoped she was joking.
“Ah, surely not. But some of ’em have people workin’ fer ’em that they bring along, and it’s too much bother to get them visas, if they even need them, so nobody knows they’re here. Could be somebody’s gardener or driver got into some trouble, and it was easier to kill him than to get into a big legal mess.”
Maura was horrified. “Seamus! You’re not saying that someone with a summer cottage would kill someone who works for them just because he’s inconvenient?”
Seamus shrugged. “Wasn’t it one of yer American writers who said ‘the rich are different from you and me’? I’m not goin’ to pretend to know what they’re thinkin’. I’m only sayin’ it’s possible. We’re lookin’ fer people who’re invisible to most of us who live here. That kind of hired person fits the bill.”
He had a point, one she hadn’t thought of. “Well, put him on the bottom of the list. Who’s next?”
“Students.”
“You mean college kids? Do they still just come over and hang out, and take the odd job when they need cash?”
“Yes and no, I’d say. If yeh’re not Irish but yeh’re takin’ courses or spendin’ a year at university here, you can work summers and holidays all proper and legal—there’s a visa fer it.”
“I hadn’t heard about that.” Maura made a mental note to check that out—it would fit her need for extra help in the summer very nicely if the kids were allowed to work in pubs, and if it wasn’t already too late to set it up this year. “You’re saying the dead man might’ve been a student? He looked sort of old for that, but it was hard to tell. Still, wouldn’t someone have missed him by now?”
“It’s summer. He might not have bothered mentionin’ his plans to his friends or family. He might’ve just said, ‘Oh, I’ll be workin’ on a farm in Kerry this summer.’ Though with everybody havin’ a mobile these days, someone could be expectin’ to hear from him. Do yeh know if the gardaí found his mobile?”
Maura shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard of. The gardaí haven’t said whether he had one, but I’m not sure if they know how to find out. If he did have one, I can’t imagine that anybody would be dumb enough to keep it, so it might be smashed or be lying at the bottom of the harbor, and I doubt the gardaí have looked very hard. It’s kind of hard to look for something you aren’t sure exists.”
“That’s fer the gardaí to look into.”
“Right. They’re certainly better at stuff like that than we are. Anybody else?”
Jerry spoke up suddenly. “Foreigners. I’m not sayin’ that in a bad way. There’d be tourists, sure, but there’s also immigrants, legal or not, and those who come here hoping for asylum.”
The whole problem was becoming more complicated than Maura had expected. “But don’t they have to register or something? I mean, when I got here, I didn’t have to do anything more than show my passport. Oh, but it was an Irish passport—my grandmother made me get one.”
“Most often people from other countries do, especially if they hope to stay, but I don’t think they check in daily with whoever’s handlin’ their paperwork. So once again, who’s to know they’re missin’?”
If the poor guy hadn’t been dumped literally in her own yard, Maura thought she would have given up about now. Too many groups of people who might fit the description of the dead man. Too many she’d never even heard about, or who would take the kind of hunting and searching that she wasn’t any good at and didn’t have time for anyway. And the gardaí were probably already tramping all over this ground.
She looked up to see Seamus watching her sympathetically. “It’s a lot to think on, Maura. Nobody’s tellin’ yeh that yeh’re the one who has to sort this out. But the gardaí and the rest of us are all startin’ from the same place this time. Let them do what they do best—follow up on things like immigration. All I’m suggesting is that we keep our ears open and see what news we pick up.”
Maura smiled. “And might that mean stopping in a few extra pubs? Just to listen, of course.”
“Only to gather information, to be sure.”
“You’re not still thinking of a new betting pool, are you?”
“We haven’t worked out the details, but the day is young.” Seamus finished his coffee. “I’ve got to get back to dealin’ with me cows, and I’m sure these other lads have their own chores. Let’s plan to gather at the end of the day here—”
“After milkin’ time,” somebody said quickly.
; “Right so,” Seamus said, “and see if we’ve got anythin’ new fer the gardaí. If that suits yeh, Maura?”
“You know you’re always welcome. But you’ve got to pay for at least some of your pints.”
“Ah, yeh’re a hard woman, Maura Donovan,” Seamus said, but with a smile.
“And one who has to make a living. Good luck to all of you.”
Rose arrived just as Seamus and his posse were headed out the door. When she crossed to the bar, she asked, “What was that about?”
Maura smiled. “You mean, why was that crowd here so early in the day? They’re looking to help the gardaí with their investigation.”
“You mean the poor dead man? Whyever do they think they can help?”
“Actually it’s not a bad idea. Look, you know we and the gardaí have got zero information on the guy so far. Seamus and his pals hang out at a lot of pubs and know a lot of people. All they’re suggesting is that they pay attention to what people are saying. It’s less formal than a police interrogation, right? So maybe it won’t scare people off. Shoot, I should have told them to talk to their wives too—women talk to each other in a different way, and in different places. They might pick up information too.”
“So long as they don’t go about pretendin’ to interview people,” Rose said, looking unconvinced.
“It’s not exactly an organized thing—it’s just people talking. Like you can talk to the people in your classes. Are they local? Are they Irish? Has one of their friends gone missing?”
“I could do,” Rose agreed. “But mostly we talk about the food.” She changed the subject. “No other people this morning?”
“Nope. Let’s hope there’s more tonight. How was your class? Was this a food one or a management one?”
“Management. I’m tryin’ to take more of those up front. I can handle the food and even experiment with dishes, but I’ve no knowledge about how to run a place. Would Harry be able to give me any information on how to estimate costs?”
“Maybe,” Maura said. “I admit I can’t explain it to you. If you talk to him, let me know—I should listen in.”
“I’ll tell yeh if it happens. Yeh need to know, Maura, if yeh’re going to keep this place running and in the black.”
“I know, I know.” Maura sighed. “It’s just that I never seem to have the time. I’m here like at least twelve hours a day, and the rest of whatever time I have left, I have to eat and shower and sleep. Did you have any luck asking if any of your classmates need a part-time job?”
“Not as yet. I might talk to the instructors, see if they have any ideas how to find people. But they’re pretty much rushed off their feet as well. Have yeh had lunch yet?”
“No, Seamus and the gang took up an hour or so of the morning.”
“If they’re comin’ back later—which I’m guessin’ they are—do they get free pints?”
“Maybe. I told Seamus I’d have to charge them at least some of the time—this is a business, after all, not a social club. Check with me after the first round, okay?”
Rose sighed. “I’m glad we’re not rushin’ into gettin’ our kitchen here together—we’re barely handling the things we’ve got goin’ now.”
“You think getting the kitchen going is a bad idea?”
“Not at all, Maura. But we need to know what we’re lettin’ ourselves in for and be ready, not just shut our eyes and jump blindly. And havin’ more people workin’ here, even part-time, would make it easier fer us all.”
“I know, Rose. I think I should make you manager here, and I’ll just keep pulling pints and chatting up the guys. You can run the business side.”
Rose smiled. “That’s a grand compliment, Maura, but I’d really rather just cook. And watch people enjoy what I’ve cooked fer ’em.”
Maura was getting ready to go out in search of food for herself when Gillian appeared at the door, with Henry riding along in his sacky-thing. “Hey, Gillian! What brings you here two days in a row?” Maura greeted her.
“A craving for adult conversation. You know, the kind that uses words and doesn’t involve drool. Do you have any on hand?”
“I might. Have you eaten?”
“He has”—Gillian looked down fondly at her sleeping son—“but I haven’t. Where do you want to go?”
“I’ve had enough of Ger’s lately.” Maura didn’t mention the dead man. “And the Costcutter. The bistro’s a bit pricey for lunch. Rose? Do you mind if we head over to Union Hall for a bite?”
“Sure and yeh should go!” Rose said firmly. “It’s a grand day, and we’re not too busy—now that we know Seamus and friends will not be back fer a few hours. Hi, Gillian—how’s the little one?”
“Growing like a weed and always hungry. We can chat later, because I’m hungry too, thanks to him.”
“You want me to drive?” Maura asked.
“Only if you’ve got that kiddy seat in your car,” Gillian said firmly.
“Oops, I forgot. You can drive and I’ll play with Henry.”
“That suits me.” Gillian led the way out to where she’d parked and spent a couple of minutes getting the baby strapped in and settled. Once they were on the road for the quick ride to Union Hall, Gillian asked, “So what’s new in your world? Anything on that poor man?”
“Nope. Seamus and the lads came by to volunteer their services to identify him.”
“Seriously? What is it they think they can do?”
“It may not be a bad idea, actually. We’re all starting from the same place, as Seamus pointed out to me. The gardaí have their own ways of looking at things, but Seamus and friends hang out in a lot of other places—pubs, of course, but also feed stores and hardware stores and places like that—so they hear different things. Besides, why discourage them? They might come up with something, and I don’t think they can get into trouble.”
“Are you so sure of that? Your man died in an awful way. I mean, multiple stab wounds? That means his killer has a temper and may have been angry. But he was also smart enough and cool enough to plan on where to leave the body—he didn’t just dump the man and run.”
“Gillian, you’re depressing me. You’re right, of course, but I hope that Seamus and the gang have enough common sense not to go blundering into places and asking people if they’ve killed anybody lately or seen someone hiding a body. Or even if they’ve seen a pool of unexplained blood. From the way they were talking, I think they’re going to do more listening. You know, somebody says something like, ‘I thought cousin Denis was coming for a visit, but there’s no sign of him and he’s not answering his mobile.’ I’d guess the guys can ask some innocent-sounding questions, like, ‘Was he the one from over Bandon way?’ They certainly aren’t going to ask if he hangs out with thugs or foreigners.”
“I can see your point. I just don’t want to hear of anybody else getting hurt or disappearing.”
“Neither do I! Seamus and friends make up a large part of my business, and I don’t want to lose them.” Maura realized they’d already reached Union Hall. “The Coffee Shop?”
“My thought exactly.”
Chapter Ten
The small restaurant and bakery in Union Hall was nicely filled, which pleased Maura—she wanted the place to survive because she was addicted to their house-made pastries, even though she rarely had a chance to buy them. She and Gillian found a table for four in the corner, where they could park Henry’s carrier easily. If they had thought they wouldn’t be noticed there, they were wrong, because half of the women in the place, both staff and customers, came to coo over Henry, who slept through all the attention.
Maura watched with a smile until everyone had taken a turn, then asked, “Does that happen everywhere you go?”
“More or less. I assume it won’t last forever. But he is adorable, isn’t he? You don’t have to answer that—I know I’m just a bit prejudiced. What do you want to eat?”
“Something I don’t make at home, which is mostly scrambled eggs or c
heese sandwiches.”
Gillian shook her head. “Ah, Maura, you really must improve your diet. You work hard—you need to keep up your strength. Are you still thinking of opening the kitchen at the pub?”
“Yes, but it hasn’t gone beyond thinking. Rose is taking cooking and restaurant management classes in Skibbereen, and I’m waiting for her to get a few of those under her belt before we think about the kitchen—but I’m guessing she’s already got some good ideas. Besides, we’re busy enough with the music for now. By the way, Rose asked if I had talked to Harry about the financial side of serving food, and I had to tell her no. Would he mind talking us through the basics? I know he’s busy with the hotel.”
Gillian waves her hand. “Of course he’ll help—we owe you enormously. And your place isn’t exactly large or complicated, so Harry would have no problems. I’ll run it by him and we can set up a time. Rose will want to be there too?”
“Of course. She’s a smart kid, and she’ll probably understand it better than I will. I’m really glad she’s out from under Jimmy’s thumb. And that he’s someone else’s problem now.” One of the owners came over to take their order, and Maura decided on a salad with a lot of unfamiliar ingredients. What the heck—she needed to eat more greens. If the stuff in the salad was actually green. In the sample in the chiller cabinet, some of it looked red, and there were some purple leaves lurking.
When the owner had gone back to the kitchen area, Maura asked, “Has your family come around yet?”
“Not really. We had Henry christened in church, to please the family, and my mother and father graciously came, since we were doing what she would consider the right thing by the child. But she’s still miffed that Harry and I aren’t married. They didn’t hang around after the ceremony.”
“I’m sorry to hear that—it must make things hard for you. Funny, isn’t it, that Bridget, who’s twice your mother’s age, can be so open-minded about it, but your mother can’t.”
“I know—Bridget’s a special person. But Harry and I are good, with or without my parents’ support. How’re you and Mick doing?”
The Lost Traveller Page 7
