Murder in an Irish Bookshop

by Carlene O'Connor

  “We have Deirdre’s tell-all,” Macdara said. “And she did tell all.”

  “That’s a lie,” Darren said. “I destroyed it.” He gasped, realizing what he’d said. They didn’t have Deirdre’s tell-all, but soon a computer technician would find it.

  “Thank you for verifying that,” Siobhán said. She flicked the lights on. At first Darren flinched, then he flew into action. He reached out and grabbed the nearest book off the shelf. He hurled the book at Siobhán’s head.

  “Over here,” Macdara said. Darren whipped around and tossed a book in Macdara’s direction.

  “It’s not nice to throw books,” Aretta said.

  “It’s not my fault. I have a duty to protect the readers!” Darren began tossing weighty tomes in every direction as fast as he could, backing up as he continued to throw books like projectiles. If any of them were damaged, Oran and Padraig would be inconsolable and they would all have to pitch in to replace any destroyed books, but that paled in comparison to the lives that Darren had destroyed. He had an excellent arm and Siobhán had to duck nonstop. One War and Peace to the noggin and she could be out of commission forever.

  “Stop,” she yelled. “It’s over. You’re caught.”

  He stopped, his eyes wild, sweat running down his full face. “I can reinvent myself. Go into hiding. Mold the next James Joyce.” He sounded delirious and hopeful. He continued backward, not seeing the claw-foot bathtub in his way. A look of confusion came over his face as the back of his legs slammed into the tub and he lost his balance, falling into it.

  “Don’t move,” Macdara said as he and Siobhán and Aretta flanked the tub.

  Darren flailed his arms and legs. “I did this for you, Michael,” he shouted. “I did this to keep your legacy going.”

  “My books will keep going,” Michael O’Mara said. “But you won’t be a part of it.” Sober now, shaved, and dressed, he looked like a new man. Siobhán hoped he’d keep it up, continue to fight to stay sober the way her brother James was doing. O’Mara wasn’t completely out of the legal woods, but his help in nailing Darren Kilroy would go a long way with a judge. Lucky for him not Judge Judy or he’d be eating his shoes.

  “You traitor.” Darren tried to sit up but continued to slide on the books in the tub. “I made you. I propped you up. I found Deirdre Walsh when you were nothing but a drunken husk of a man.” He finally righted himself, and hands up, slid out of the tub and onto the floor. “And what happened? Your sales skyrocketed. Because she was better than you. Much better.” He turned away from Michael and focused his gaze on Aretta. He reached his arm out as if he expected her to help him up. “If only she wasn’t so naive. Nobody wanted her books. They wanted dragons.” He dropped his arm. “Fire-breathing writers are a much more dangerous creature than anyone realizes. The egos! The fragile, fragile, stupid egos.” He reached into the tub, grabbed more books, and flung them one by one at Michael O’Mara, who simply ducked. When he tired of that, he hung his head and grasped the back of his head with his hands, rocking back and forth. Had he not murdered two women in cold blood Siobhán would have almost taken pity on the state of him.

  “You seem to be the one with the fragile ego,” she said. “But I’m sure Margaret O’Shea confirmed your fears. That readers would not want to know the legend of Michael O’Mara was a sham.” She threw a glance at O’Mara and mouthed Sorry. He shrugged. He knew this was part of the plan. “It drove you to the breaking point,” Siobhán said. “Didn’t it?”

  Darren looked up for a moment, as if she was on his side. Then he glared. “What do you know?”

  “I know that when Padraig McCarthy mentioned the rare book of arsenic-laced wallpaper, you started writing a story of your own, didn’t you?”

  Darren reached for a book in the tub to toss at Siobhán. She was fine with it. She could duck all day. But there were no more pages left for Darren Kilroy to turn.

  “If you throw one more book at the woman I love, you won’t like what happens next,” Detective Sergeant Macdara Flannery said. “I promise you that.” Darren Kilroy dropped the book, curled up into a ball on the floor, and wept.

  * * *

  Siobhán entered the bistro after a much-needed afternoon walk about town. The bell dinged, and she crossed the hall to the french doors leading to the bistro.

  “Surprise!” a chorus of voices shouted. She stood in shock at her friends and family, who had gathered around a birthday cake glowing with candles.

  “Look at her face,” Gráinne said. “We got her.”

  Siobhán laughed. “You certainly did.” She caught Macdara’s eye and he winked. Everyone began to sing “Happy Birthday.” She edged closer to the cake, to see what was written on it this time:

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOS

  She laughed again. “It’s perfect.”

  “Do you need help blowing them out?” Ciarán asked. “There are a ton of candles.” This time everyone laughed.

  “Everyone can help,” Siobhán said, holding her hair back and leaning in. Her brood didn’t waste time, as multiple folks leaned in to help her blow them out.

  “Look at all your prezzies,” Ann said, pointing to a table in the back dining room filled with colorfully wrapped gifts.

  “I am definitely spoiled,” Siobhán said.

  “Recognizing it is the first step,” Gráinne quipped.

  “Shall I play ‘Happy Birthday’?” Ciarán said, lifting his violin.

  “Let’s cut the cake,” Eoin said. Siobhán couldn’t help but notice he’d been standing apart from most everyone except for one person: Aretta. She tried not to grin in their direction.

  “What’s your hurry?” James said as Eoin stepped up with the knife. Siobhán was surprised, but happy to see that Elise Elliot was in attendance. It appeared as though the mercurial lovebirds had patched things up yet again.

  “Aretta and I are going to exchange recipes,” Eoin said.

  “I’ve never made a proper Irish stew,” she said.

  “In exchange for her pepper stew,” Eoin said.

  “Wonderful,” Siobhán said. “We all look forward to sampling both.” The next hour was filled with what a birthday party should entail: chatter and laughter, and cake, and gift opening. It was a wonderful surprise, but also somewhat draining, so Siobhán was relieved when the attention was off her and folks went back to their regular routine. She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Elise staring at her.

  “Heya,” Siobhán said. “Thanks a million for coming.”

  “Can we talk?”

  That was never a good starter. “Of course.”

  Elise looked around. “In private?”

  “Let’s speak in the garden.” They headed out. Elise was wringing her hands. “You can tell me anything.”

  “I don’t know exactly when James and I are getting married. I think he’s avoiding it.”

  Siobhán was not going to share her brother’s confidence with anyone, not even Elise. “I’m sorry, luv,” she said. “Sometimes these things take time.”

  Elise gave a half nod. “I have a birthday gift for you,” she said. “Only it’s not something that could be wrapped.”

  “You don’t need to give me a thing.”

  “The abbey,” Elise said. “I’m giving you the abbey.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You and Macdara. That’s where you should get married. I was wrong to covet it.”

  Siobhán knew her mouth had dropped open and tears formed in her eyes. She tried to think of anything to push them away. “Thank you.” She ambushed Elise in a hug.

  “I hope you aren’t going to put that man off much longer,” Elise said. “He may not tell you how much it hurts, when you want nothing more but to marry the person you love—but take it from me. It hurts.”

  A pulse in Siobhán’s neck started to throb. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

  Elise let out a sigh of relief. “Now that that’s sorted, I’m going to have a proper drin
k.” She headed back inside, leaving Siobhán in the garden. Macdara came out soon thereafter.

  “Hey, birthday girl.” She ambushed him in a hug. “Are you ready for your present?”

  “You already gave me presents.” A gift certificate to the bookshop, which she was over the moon about, and a gorgeous bouquet from Blooms. He held up a luggage bag.

  “What’s this?”

  “We’re going to Bere Island for the weekend,” he said. “I’ve arranged backup at work for us.” She didn’t realize how much she needed that until it was right there in front of her. This time she didn’t hide her grin. “Ready, boss?”

  “Race you to the car.”

  * * *

  The water surrounding Bere Island glistened. Siobhán had prepared her speech. Her let’s-wait-for-a-year-to-get-married, logical, planned-out speech. Macdara came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I can wait.”

  She hadn’t expected this. “Is that what you think I’m going to ask you to do? Wait?” He nodded. “And how do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t want to. I want to marry you right here, right now. But I wouldn’t do that either.”

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “I’m a garda,” he said. “I intend to have as many witnesses at our wedding as possible. Especially since half of them will be loaded before the night is through.”

  Siobhán laughed. “You’re not wrong about that.” She took a deep breath. “Elise gave me an interesting birthday gift.”

  “What was that?”

  “She’s agreed to change their wedding venue.”

  “We can have the abbey?”

  She felt tears well behind her eyes. “We can have the abbey.”

  Macdara took a step forward. “What are you saying?”

  Siobhán took a deep breath. But this time the butterflies were happy ones. She wanted to marry the blue-eyed, messy-haired man in front of her. “I planned on asking you to wait a year. And maybe that’s a prudent thing. Because there is a lot we have to figure out.” She took his hands. “But I don’t want to wait. It’s spring. We need time to plan. But not too much time. Let’s marry the last day of August.”

  He squeezed her hands. “As the sun is going down over the abbey,” he said.

  “That’s perfect.” She could see it now, strips of orange and red filtering in through the gorgeous five-light window. Her abbey. Her village. Her love. Surrounded by friends and family. She nodded, trying not to pay attention to the tears in his beautiful blue eyes.

  “I didn’t expect this,” he said, his voice husky. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her into him. “I intend to make it the best chapter of your life.”

  “Don’t do that,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it as they began to walk along the water’s edge.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because the good stuff always happens at the end.”

  “Not for us,” he said. “We’re going to fill every single day with the good stuff.”

  “I want baskets of curried chips at the reception,” Siobhán said. “And loads of chocolate.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “And Ciarán is not playing the violin.”

  “Ciarán is definitely not playing the violin.”

  “Where are we going to live?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But we can take it one step at a time. And if we keep bouncing from my place to yours until we figure it out, then that’s the way it will be.”

  “Maybe one day we’ll buy an old farmhouse and James will fix it up for us.”

  “I like the sound of that. I like the sound of anything that has to do with you and me.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder as they looked out at the water. She thought of her mam and da, wishing she could share the good news. Just then, as they gazed out at the ocean, a dolphin shot out in a perfect arc, then dove back underneath a wave. She grinned, knowing she had her answer. Macdara held her tight. “There’s one more thing.”

  “Hit me.”

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m not taking your surname,” she said. “But if you want to change yours to O’Sullivan the matter is open for discussion.”

  Eoin’s Irish Stew

  Ingredients

  1½ pounds stewing beef—cut into chunks

  ¼ cup oil (extra virgin or vegetable oil)

  2 beef stock cubes dissolved in 1 pint of water

  1½ ounces flour

  3 minced garlic cloves

  3 carrots and/or parsnips

  1 onion

  Salt and pepper

  1 cup Guinness Extra Stout

  1 cup heavy red wine

  2 bay leaves

  2 tablespoons tomato paste

  2 tablespoons fresh cut parsley

  1 tablespoon sugar

  1 tablespoon dried thyme

  1 tablespoon brown sauce

  2 bay leaves

  2 tablespoons Irish butter

  2 to 3 pounds russet potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch pieces

  Brown the beef:

  Sprinkle salt on the pieces

  Heat the olive oil in thick-bottomed pot over medium-high heat

  Cook in batches, browning meat on both sides

  Add garlic and sauté, then add beef stock, Guinness, wine, tomato paste, thyme, sugar, brown sauce, bay leaves. Stir to combine.

  Lower heat and simmer for 1 hour, stirring a few times.

  In another pan, melt butter. Sauté onions and carrots/ parsnips until golden (approximately 15 minutes).

  After stew has simmered for 1 hour, add the onion/carrot /parsnip/butter mix. Add potatoes, black pepper, and salt. Simmer 40 minutes. Discard bay leaves. Spoon off excess fat. Add salt and pepper to taste. Garnish with parsley.

  Pepper Stew

  I have not tried pepper stew yet, but you can find a Nigerian pepper stew recipe at: Mydiasporakitchen.com.