Go back to sleep.
But sleep wasn’t going to come. Better to go down to the kitchen for a hot toddy. That might help steady my nerves. Hell, maybe I’d just take a few shots of the whiskey on the counter and knock myself out.
My robe felt soothing and warm as I slipped it on and opened the door, tying the belt as I went, and paced down the hall. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed we’d left the light on in the front closet—must have been from when we’d hung up our coats earlier. It seemed to create shadowy images. I was going to open it and click it off when I thought I heard a shout and a bang far off in the distance. It almost sounded like “Help!”
Oh lord, my imagination was running wild tonight. Who needed a drink that bad? I hurried back up the stairs to my room. There was another pill in my purse that would do the trick. The door to Liam’s room was closed. I debated checking on him to make sure he was safe and not being attacked somewhere by Nick. My phone was tucked into the pocket of my robe. It was one in the morning. Naturally he would be sleeping. I paused, no longer hearing anything. I was just being silly.
The next morning, I awoke to a wet pillowcase and rawness in my throat that hinted I’d been crying. I did that sometimes when the nightmares seemed too real. I’d probably been dreaming again, but the extra pill had done the trick. I clumsily pushed aside the drape that hung in the guest bedroom and fumbled to get the window open. I could still smell that sweet stench that always accompanied my nightmares.
The old-fashioned clock on the dresser ticked. Dawn was breaking, and there was just enough light to see as I rummaged through my suitcase for joggers and a T-shirt. I needed to clear my brain. I closed my eyes, shaking off the tears as I walked down the hall so as not to disturb Liam, but as I descended the stairs, I heard noise coming from the kitchen. My soon-to-be brother-in-law stood at the sink chugging a glass of water.
“Mornin’, lass,” Liam said, turning to smile at me. There were dark circles under his eyes. “Would ye like a cup a tea?”
I nodded. I would have preferred coffee but I didn’t want to be rude. “It feels like a Danish type of morning. Do you have any?” I asked, noting the unappetizing bowl of fruit on the counter.
Liam frowned and shook his head. “There hasn’t been much call for them lately. I live alone and I’m trying to eat healthy, saving all my calories for my nightly pub visits. I do have a few blueberry-bran muffins.”
“I’ll take one of those with lots of butter and a side of chocolate?”
“Sorry. Would ye believe I’m out of both?”
“You’re killin’ me here,” I said, and smiled.
His bible lay open along with several other books. One book in particular stood out to me Four Blood Moons: Something Is About to Change, by John Hagee.
The papers beside it were marked up with pen and marker and there were more strewn all over the table. I noticed the words, phenomena of the four blood moons was highlighted and underlined heavily. He’d obviously been doing some early morning studying.
“What’s all this about?” I asked, accepting the cup of tea and muffin.
“Tis nothin’ to hold water—just an end-of-the-world biblical prophecy.”
I remembered my Gigi mentioning something about it many years ago. She never had much tolerance for religion and doomsday prophets in particular boiled her blood. I stood up and walked to the fridge to grab the milk. “You think the world is gonna end in September?”
Liam shrugged. “Of course not, I’m only after lookin’ into it so that I may put others at ease.”
My eyes darted to a small matchbook on the floor by the counter. It was the one Nick had given me with his hotel room written on it. It must have fallen out of my purse or jacket. Scooping it up, I quickly pocketed it and wondered if Liam saw, and if I should say anything. I took a deep breath and decided against it. It would be hard to explain the address of your ex-lover’s hotel room in your possession. Besides he’d probably been too busy with his research to notice.
“Who would believe such nonsense?” I asked, adding milk to my teacup before putting the milk away.
“Plenty.”
I sniffed the air. “What’s that I smell?” The smell turned my stomach, reminding me of my nightmare.
“Peanut butter. I had a piece of toast an hour ago.”
“No, it’s kind of a sweet smell. I think it's pipe tobacco.” The gold tin of Sweet Kilarney from Cullen’s that I’d once mistaken for candies came to mind—minus the peanut butter. I was sure Cullen said the Sweet Killarney belonged to his brother, or was it his Da? “Are you a smoker?”
“I’m not. And yer a right feisty modern-like woman, now aren’t ye? Sweets and pipe tobacco for breakfast. Jaysus, Móraí would have a fit if she heard ye.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. I could picture Móraí’s scandalized look.
Liam smiled and held his index finger to his lips. “I shan’t tell a soul. But should you want to curse and grow a beard, I suggest ye keep away from her. She can be a wee bit judgmental of proper lady stuff.”
I burst out laughing. “I swear I don’t smoke and I’m usually a much healthier eater. I’ve just been around Leslie for too long. Besides I’m gearing up for a run so the carbs will do me good.”
Liam walked by me and I got another wiff. “But seriously, what is that smell?”
“It must be after driftin’ in from outside then. A lot of the old timers walk along the road here. I’m a bit stuffed up this mornin’, so I don’t really smell it myself. Sorry, lass.”
“That’s all right. I’m obviously imagining it.” I broke off the top of my muffin but instead of eating it, just stared at it. “What are you up to anyway besides predicting the end of the world?”
“Ponderin’ the existence of evil…” Liam said with a chuckle.
“Funny, that’s what I was just doing.”
Liam took a sip of his tea. “Awe, love, ye needn’t worry about that bastard ex of yours. He won’t find ye here and he won’t get through the likes of me.”
I didn’t bother to mention my dream.
“Oh, by the way, I found something. I think it belongs to you.”
My heart fluttered—so he’d found the matchbook after all. Oh, well, I would come clean. It’s not like it was my fault Nick gave me his number and address. I was being silly about it. I broke the piece of muffin in my hand in half and nibbled on it. I couldn’t talk if my mouth was full.
Liam lifted his bible and picked up Rochus’ brown leather book. He flipped it open and I suddenly ha a stabbing pain in my head.
“It’s an interesting book. Where did ye get it?”
“From my Gigi’s library,” I answered, placing a hand to my temple. It must have fallen out of my bag in the car when I was rummaging through for my wallet.
“Is the whole thing Latin?”
I swallowed. “No, it’s mixed. Actually, it’s funny you opened it to that page, because it’s about spirituality.”
“Well now, that makes sense, doesn’t it? The Lord is always out to teach. So now, what does it say?”
I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t even shared any of this with Cullen, but Liam was a Priest. It couldn’t hurt to talk philosophy with him.
“It’s a curse to do with reincarnation—it talks about how souls are sent to Earth together and how if one soul gets lost, the others are cursed to suffer along with it.”
“It sounds very Buddhist,” Liam said.
I glanced up at the clock, and nodded. “I hate to cut and run on this topic, but I need to...”
Liam rose, too. “Run. I know. Can’t have ye eatin’ all that unhealthy bran without running it off.”
I smiled, bending over to tie my shoelaces. “Yes, and if I leave it any later, I’ll be roasting under the sun.”
“In Ireland—ye’ll probably be okay.”
I opened the door and a squirrel scampered into the dewy grass and away from my shoes as my feet shuffled down
the porch step and hit the gravel. I lifted my gaze, watching as the sun rose over the horizon like a bright, fiery globe. I concentrated on the trees, praying Mother Nature would entrance me, but my mind drifted back to the scene in my head of the woman oozing blood on the floor.
I headed back through the cemetery, briefly pausing when I’d reached the stones we’d seen earlier. I leaned on one, catching my breath, and read it. Nioclas Lamentz Colley. His middle name was Lamentz? I suddenly got chills. Lamentz was the last name of Nico, the man who’d tried to kill me in my last life. The man obsessed with the Delhi Sapphire, my family heirloom. The man who started this all—could this be a coincidence?
I turned away and headed back for the road, picking up the pace. Lamentz was such a unique middle name. Cullen’s ancestor, Ally had lived in France. I ran faster, pushing myself, muscles burning. Could it be that it was just a popular name? I pumped my legs harder, but I couldn't outrun the thought.
What was the chance that Ally was short for Alastríona, the woman I’d met in 1857? Was Cullen’s great-great-great-grandfather, Nico—the man who’d murdered me?
THIRTY-FOUR
“ Y’er ex-fiancé was jumped in a bar,” Garda Lynch said. “Beat to death. We found his body dumped in a back alley this mornin,’” he stressed, his tone quiet but menacing.
Slumped in a chair in the living room of the O’Kelley’s country home, I stared at the man. Full of disbelief, I watched as he plopped the crime scene photos down in front of me.
I reeled back, not even recognizing the bloody, battered mess that was Nick. Tears streamed involuntarily down my face.
“Do ye know who did it, Miss?” Garda Lynch asked, leaning forward.
“Awe, now, Lynch, did ye have to do that?” Liam demanded, quickly placed the tray of tea he carried on top of the bloody images. He grabbed the Kleenex box from the table and handed it to me. Then he turned to the garda. “Ye know the type, it's drugs.”
“We don’t know that,” the garda replied. “The American lass was murdered not two weeks ago. It’s an odd coincidence, don’t ye think?”
“Not really—seems pretty clear to me. The eejit, pardon my language, probably got into a lover’s quarrel, flew into a rage and threw the lass over the railing, then felt bad—or, more than likely, scared—and went on a binge. Picked a fight with some real tough lads and got himself all messed up. So sad. The end. “
“And what do ye have to say about the message from Ms. Marcil?”
I balled the Kleenex up in my left hand and took the tea Liam handed me. It was hot, but I took a sip anyway.
“What message? I didn’t leave a message.”
“Sure, ye didn’t, lass?”
“I didn’t.”
“Did ye speak to the victim regularly? Had ye seen him recently?”
“No! Well, yes.”
“Which is it?”
“We didn’t speak, but I ran into him on the street. I told him to leave me the hell alone, but then he showed up at my house, the…”
The cop scribbled madly on his little pad of paper. I took another sip of the tea. It was black. I hated black tea.
“Ye mean Cullen O’Kelley’s home? That is where ye live, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“And have you ever visited the flat where Mr. Bexx and his girlfriend were stayin’?”
“No. Of course not. I don’t know where he was staying,” I stammered, pressing my head into my hands. A headache was emerging.
“Ye’re sure, Ms. Marcil?”
“Ye deaf? She said so, didn’t she?” Liam interjected, coming once again to my defense.
I reached out and patted Liam’s hand. The poor man’s face was beet red.
“It’s all right, Liam. Oh wait, that’s a lie. I did know where he was staying. Nick gave me a matchbook that day on the street. It had the name of the place on it and he’d written his flat number down on the back, but I never went there.”
“And ye sure ye never contacted him?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I lost it, actually.”
“And yer whereabouts for last night?”
“Ye can’t possibly think she had anything to do with this.” Liam’s annoyed expression matched my own.
“Unbelievable,” I said. “Nick can’t even leave me in peace with his death.”
The garda looked at Liam and I could tell he was exhausted. “Of course, I don’t believe it, but both families are rich and breathin’ down my neck, I don’t have a choice but to question everyone who knew the victim. Not if I want to keep my job.”
“This is bull and ye know it,” Liam said, clearly not having any of it.
The garda sighed. “We have to be thorough, Liam. Ye must get that.”
“Oh, I get it, all right and ye’ll be getting’ it—after I call the station.”
Liam turned and stormed out of the room. Sometimes it struck me as odd that Liam was a priest, but then again this was Ireland. The garda turned back to me, glaring as if he’d just seen his window open up.
A bang reverberated from the kitchen and I swung my head in that direction, wondering what Liam was doing in there.
“Mr. hot-head there, was he with ye all night?”
“Who, Liam? What are you implying, Garda?” I asked, setting the tea down with a little too much force. Liquid spilled over the side.
“Nothin’, just askin’ a simple question, lass,” the garda said mysteriously.
“What, do you think I snuck away while Liam watched a movie? Yes of course—he was here to babysit me every second. We grabbed groceries in town—you can check the receipt. We made dinner, I had a glass of wine, then I got a little upset talking about Nick, and so I took a nerve pill and went to bed. I was in bed like a good girl all night and I didn’t wake up til morning.”
I’d woken to a nightmare, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
Just then Liam walked back into the room, pocketing his cell. “Ye realize we’re at least an hour outside of Dublin.”
“Forty-five minutes, actually,” the garda responded.
“Fine, forty-five; still, ye can’t be thinkin’ we drove all the way back, met her man at a bar, beat him up and then came back here.” He laughed. “I mean, me, a man of the cloth, and the hundred-pound lass over there? Oh, ye’re somethin’ else, Lynch.”
“Should we contact a lawyer?” I cut in, shifting nervously.
“Nah, that will’na be necessary yet,” the garda said, heavily emphasizing the last part. “Although I’ll spake with yer man when he gets back. When’s he due?”
“Tomorrow, but why? He wasn’t even here.” My eyes locked with Liam’s.
“Never mind with me brother,” Liam said aggressively. “Ye should be after callin’ the station. I had a nice chat with yer man already.”
Feeling shaky, I stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee. All I could see was Nick’s bloody corpse every time I closed my eyes. My hands shook as I poured the last spoonful of coffee into the basket, and some of the grains scattered on the counter. Shit! Frustrated, I hit the button and grabbed a dishcloth to sweep them into the sink. While I waited impatiently, Bailey’s in hand, for the pot to fill, I wandered out onto the veranda, thinking of all the things that had happened in the last year.
Cullen wouldn’t hurt a fly. Would he? A little voice inside whispered. He had been really angry when Nick showed up. He’d threatened him. But no, he couldn’t have… Besides, this trip had been planned, or had it? It was hard to keep track of all his trips; the last few months had been crazy. He’d just come back from a trip. Why had he needed to leave again so suddenly? My stomach trampolined. There was no way he could have pulled it off. Not my Cullen. He wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer.
“Ye look bleak.”
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Liam standing in the doorway.
“I am.”
“The brew’s ready.”
I crossed back into the kitchen, closing the door behind me.
&nb
sp; “To hell with him,” he said. “Seriously, we’ll get to the bottom of this—on our own if we have to,” he said softly.
“Did you hear what he said about the message from Sophia?” I asked.
“It wasn’t ye, though, right?” Liam said.
“No,” I said. “But someone is obviously trying to frame me or Cullen.” Or Cullen really did it, although I didn’t want to say that out loud.
Liam clapped his hands. “We’ll get to the bottom of this one way or another.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to admit that I was a little afraid of what was at the bottom.
THIRTY-FIVE
W e dropped Cullen off at the Garda station before lunch and waited.
“How much longer will this take, do you think?” I asked Liam. I had no idea how long we’d been waiting, but it felt like two hours. Liam, leaning against the brick of the station, sipped his coffee absently. “Not much longer,” he said. “It’s just routine.”
I was relieved when he finally walked back out the front doors. His mouth was set in a thin line but he feigned a smile as he saw me. They hadn’t arrested him, but he didn’t look overly happy either.
It was Liam who spoke. “How’d it go?” His voice was quiet. “They release ye as a suspect?”
Cullen folded his hand in mine and we walked in the direction of the car.
“Not yet,” he said. “Soon, I’m sure. They just need to check my alibi out, but considering I was on a plane—I’m sure it’ll check out.”
I exhaled an audible breath and smiled. For just a moment, a feeling of relief broke through the layer of ice over all of my emotions. Somewhere deep inside I’d been expecting Garda Lynch to tell me Cullen had done it. Who knows how long I would have stood there, staring, if my phone hadn’t vibrated?
I reached for it reflexively, noticing that the number was familiar. I switched hands and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Sophia?” It was Nick’s little sister. She sounded like she’d been crying. “How are you?”
The boys began a conversation, so I turned my back.
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 39
