“Christ. Did you just knock out the waiter or are you doing something kinky?”
The figure on the floor started to move. His bonds came loose and he sat up next to me with a loud growl. I squealed, startled at the sudden movement and without thinking, swung the bottle again, clobbering the man across the forehead. Both Leslie and I watched as the man's eyes crossed for just a second before he fell backward with a thump.
“Shit!”
“You didn't kill him, did you?” Leslie said, rushing forward.
My hand shot out. He had a pulse.
“He’s still alive. Do you think Nick sent him to attack me?”
“No. He’s room service! I can’t believe that bottle didn’t break.”
“But you were asleep and I didn’t order room service.”
“I prearranged it when I checked in. It was one of the options. I had my alarm set to wake up to eggs and toast— not unconscious waiter and psychotic guest.”
“Very funny.”
“Remind me never to surprise you.”
“I thought he was Nick. Why was he lurking around the front room?”
“He was probably setting up in there. It has a beautiful view of the river.”
“Do you think he’s okay? Get some water.”
I sprinkled the water over his face and gently patted his cheeks. “Hello. Please wake up.”
“He’s probably afraid you’ll hit him again if he does.”
“You’re not helping. Should we call an ambulance?”
“Probably, but what if they arrest you? Maybe you should call Cullen.”
I glanced at the clock on the stove.
“Cullen’s in negotiations right now. I can’t call him. Hmm? I know.” I picked up the phone, dialed and frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
“Liam’s not answering.” I turned my attention back to the unconscious man. “Oh, please,” I said, shaking him again. “Wake up.”
A soft whimper escaped his lips.
“Jared, are you okay?” Leslie asked.
“You know him?”
Leslie pointed to his name tag just as his eyes fluttered open.
After a few more moments, we helped him sit up.
I could see a flicker of consciousness start to take over. “My head hurts.”
“It’s okay,” I told him gently. “Everything’s okay. We’re going to take you to the hospital.”
I motioned for Leslie to call the desk downstairs.
“Someone hit me.”
“We know,” I said sheepishly. “I thought you were an intruder. I’m so sorry.”
He closed his eyes and we sat like that for several minutes, not saying anything else until management arrived, taking Jared with them.
“My God, I’m going crazy. I’ve got to do something about Nick. Let’s go for a ride.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Candlelight Confession
The sun was high and bright as we parked Lucille’s silver Audi across from the coffee shop at the corner of Wicklow Street and William Street South. I had yet to bring my beloved Spitfire over from Canada and Cullen’s parents owned four vehicles, so they insisted.
I looked at the bowed window of the Georgian shop down the street from where we’d parked.
“Hey Les. What does that storefront remind you of?”
Leslie turned in the direction that my finger was pointing.
“The one with the black door and the brass knocker.”
“I don’t know. Sherlock Holmes.”
“Exactly. It would make the perfect bookstore.”
“Maybe, but it looks like it’s already an antique shop,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, but one day it could be ours—if you will agree to move to Ireland.”
Leslie rolled her eyes playfully. “We’ll see.”
The Storybook Cafe was between customers when we walked in. The girl behind the counter recognized Leslie, who’d been coming here practically every day since she arrived, and went to work getting our lattes and breakfasts: two bacon and cheese bagels, and a tart.
“Do you want anything to eat?” Leslie asked after ordering.
I elbowed her. “You’re sharing.”
Three sips of my latte later and we turned down the driveway that led to the Colley Estate where Liam lived. I put the car in park and looked at the house in front of us. A flowering vine had wrapped itself around the wrought-iron gate and contrasted nicely against the three-story stone cottage and turret. The Tudor half-timbered accents on the top half of the cottage gave the appearance of an overgrown doll house. Wicker chairs on a wrap-around porch looked like the perfect place to sip lemonade on a hot afternoon—if Ireland ever had those.
The house was to the left, the church to the right and green lush property stretched for as far as the eye could see. Off in the distance sat a cemetery and a crumbling castle.
Leslie was first to step from the car, surveying the tranquil woodland.
“Have you been here before?”
“No, but I saw pictures. Apparently it’s been in the family forever,” I said, taking in everything from the unusual round tower that housed a bell to the dry moat surrounding the neo-Gothic chapel.
“So it’s not a real church?”
“It used to be but I’m not sure about now, although Liam is really a priest,” I said, grabbing my purse from the car.
“It’s beautiful, but eerie,” Leslie said as we passed through the lynch gate and followed the cobbled path up to the front door. “That’s a tombstone! Is this a graveyard?”
I nodded, looking to my left. “There’s a much bigger one over there. I don’t think they use it anymore though.”
“Really? ‘Cause that looks like fresh dirt.”
I looked in the direction of her gaze to the edge of the woods. “It does. You’re right. Hmm, maybe I’m wrong, or maybe it’s the family plot. I don’t know that any of Cullen’s family died recently, though, but who knows?”
Leslie gasped as we stepped through the doors. Perhaps the graveyard had led her to expect an austere interior, but the stone walls and stained glass marvels running floor to ceiling were just as pretty as the picture I’d seen. The bells began to chime.
“What time is it?”
“Noon.”
“Liam should still be here. He must be in the back.”
I led the way, walking toward the front of the altar where several candles flickered. The doorway to Liam’s office stood.
“Whoa! Is that a labyrinth?” Leslie said, stopping and standing at the center of the room where a large mosaic had been laid in the stone.
“Yeah, it looks like it.”
I bent down, removed the worn-out rug, and stared at the knot in the center that curled in an ‘s’ formation.
“That’s weird.”
“What?” Leslie said.
“That marking—it’s curled in the shape of a snake—it looks very similar to the symbol Nico wore on his ring, only it’s been worked into a pattern.”
“Are you sure that’s a snake? It looks a lot like the Dacian Draco?”
“Dacian, as in Romanian?”
“Yeah, the protective symbol of the army. A wolf mixed with a dragon and serpent. It was supposed to scare their enemies.”
“It could be. I don’t know why there would be a Romanian symbol here or on Nico’s ring for that matter.”
I moved to the wall and found an office. It contained a desk, two tall bookcases, and a door that looked like it was maybe a broom closet. The light filtered in from a small window behind the desk, highlighting the books laid open on his desk, but other than a coat, there was no sign of anyone.
“There’s a trapdoor at the front of the altar. Do you think he’s in the basement?”
“I don’t know. Wouldn’t it just be a vault for the coffins to be lowered into? The idea of a basement sort of gives me the heebie jeeb...”
Leslie was over at the trapdoor, opening it before I coul
d finish my sentence.
Suddenly mindful of how quiet the place was, and how empty, I raised my eyes to the arched windows and felt very cold. The air had become oppressive, the stillness so intense I could hear it drumming a beat inside my head.
“Look at this!” Leslie said, revealing a long flight of stone steps that wound into darkness.
Chills passed through me as I sniffed the air.
“Do you smell that? A candy apple.”
“It reminds me of my grandpa at the fair.”
“Yeah, like a mixture of caramel and pipe tobacco. It’s very familiar.”
“Maybe it’s a candle. I see something flickering. Let’s check it out.”
My mouth went dry. “No way.”
“Come on, you big chicken. You said it yourself: Liam is here somewhere. Maybe he’s downstairs.”
I started down the steps with Leslie charging ahead, thinking how it was always the little ones that were feisty and brave.
The steps wound down and opened up into a small, cave-like room. The light from probably fifty votive candles set in niches, on a table and even on the floor gleamed on the pale curves of alabaster carvings and reflected off the gilding of two statues.
A chill of unease ran over me. “Let’s get out of here,” I told Leslie. “We’ll go find a pub and come back in an hour.”
“What’s wrong?” she said and looked around.
My glance flickered to the glowing, twitching candles.
“I don’t know. Something…” I shook my head to dispel the uncomfortable feeling. “Let’s go back to the car; maybe Liam’s back at the house already.”
“Well then who lit these candles?”
“I don’t know, but that’s why I want to get the hell out of here—‘cause it sure wasn’t Liam.”
Overwhelmed with panic, I scrambled up the stairs and fled down the aisle. We burst out the front of the chapel just as a car pulled up, spraying gravel. A flock of birds called overhead and the car door opened. Leslie looked at me and we both exhaled in relief.
“Sophia, darlin’, what are you after doin’ here?”
“Liam, I’m glad to see you. We went inside, but we couldn’t find you. I was worried something happened. You left candles burning?”
“No harm done, they’re only battery powered. I was just after grabbin’ lunch,” he said, holding up a brown paper bag as he shut his car door. What brings ye here?”
“I got spooked. I ran into my ex, Nick, yesterday right before being informed of a murder down the street. It turned out it was Nick’s girlfriend. She was pushed off the second-story landing inside their loft and, Liam, I just know Nick did it and now he’s after me.”
“Calm down, lass,” Liam said, putting his arms around me. “Relationships never end on the best of terms but what makes ye think he would hurt ye, or kill someone else, for that matter?”
“It’s a long story, but suffice it to say, that tumble I took when you and Cullen found me? It was his doing.”
Liam’s jaw dropped.
“Anyway, I couldn’t get a hold of you last night so I stayed with Leslie and then I got a little overzealous this morning.”
Leslie cleared her throat. “A little?”
I gave her a dirty look.
“I sort of hit the room service guy over the head with a wine bottle. I thought it was Nick breaking into the penthouse.”
“Ye brained him? Is the fella okay?”
“Yes, I think his forehead and his pride were a little bruised but I spoke to the manager and he was going to see to him and let me know what else I could do. Anyway, Cullen told me to come to you if I had any problems.”
“Ye were right to come. Ye’ll stay here at the house with me until my brother gets back. I’ll make sure this Nick fella doesn’t get anywhere near the likes of ye.”
“Thank you, Liam. That’s very sweet of you but I’m good at the penthouse with Leslie, and Cullen’s back in two days. I just felt like I should possibly get a restraining order. You have those here, don’t you?”
“Yes, but slow down. I’ll make a few inquiries first. I’ve got friends down at the station. What’s his last name?” he said, glancing sidelong toward the woods.
“Nicholas Riley Bexx. His father’s rich. I’m sure he’ll never be charged with Betty’s murder.”
“Well, he may be rich but he’s not from ‘round here.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Peeping Nick
The pieces of silverware clanged as I unloaded the dishwasher and placed them in the drawer. It was nice to have Cullen home, and I was looking forward to tonight’s get-together.
“Anybody home?” Leslie called.
“In the kitchen,” I hollered back.
“The front door was unlocked, so I let myself in,” Leslie hung up her coat on the back of the counter stool, and took a seat. “What smells so good?” She asked, and inhaled deeply.
“Party food. I used a couple of Gigi’s recipes. I hope I do them justice.”
“I know you will.”
“Can you put those flowers in that vase and get out the plates while I finish stuffing these mushrooms? I assume you’re hungry.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
By the time Leslie had set the table, I’d taken the meatballs and several mini pizzas from the oven, transferring them onto a waiting platter. “They have to sit for a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee or a glass of wine to go with them?”
“With the way my day’s going, I’ll take the wine,” Leslie said.
“Oh dear. That doesn’t sound good. Tell me all about it,” I said, reaching for the glasses in the cupboard.
Leslie sat back down hard on her stool. “Oh, nothing I feel like talking about. Have you heard anything new about Betty’s murder?”
I shook my head. “No, but I was interrogated by Cullen. He missed his calling. He should have been a police garda. How about you?”
“Nothing that we haven’t already read in the papers. No one back home seems to know anything. What about the Guards? Liam had connections, right?” she added, with a sly lilt to her voice.
“Well, if he knows anything more, he’s not sharing the information with me. He probably knows Cullen wants me kept safe in my bubble wrap.”
“Oh, Soph, he just cares about you. I wish I had a man who loved me enough to suffocate me. Where is he by the way—in the bathroom? I need to use it.”
I shrugged and cracked the cap on the bottle of wine.
“Penelope called this morning. She’s in Dublin,” I said.
“The flirty travel writer?” Leslie said climbing down from her stool.
I glowered but nodded. “Be nice.”
Leslie took a sip of the wine I handed her.
“She’s coming tonight.”
“Thankfully I’m single. Ladies, hold onto your husbands.”
I smiled. She wasn’t entirely wrong. Penelope was a bit of a man eater but she was fun. Leslie went off down the hall and I had just begun mixing the dip when Cullen surprised me by shoving a rumpled man into the room.
“What the—? What’s he doing here?” I asked, almost dropping my glass.
“I found him sneakin’ around the side like a bloody pervert, peerin’ in after ye through the window. Is he who I think he is?” asked Cullen, practically steaming from the ears.
I turned my gaze quickly in the direction of the offending, bleary-eyed party. “What are you doing here, Nick?”
“Can you tell this Irish bastard it’s not against the law to look in a window?”
“Go to the devil,” Cullen said and backhanded Nick straight across the mouth. “I’ll show ye what a bloody bastard I can be!” He grabbed Nick roughly by the collar.
“What the hell, Sophia? I knocked but you didn’t answer. You gonna call off your dog or what?”
“Oh my God, Nick. Cullen, please! Let him go.”
Cullen drew back as if he’d been slapped.
“I just mean he’s
not worth it. Nick, have the police spoken to you? Betty is dead!”
“This is such a nightmare.” He pulled at his hair and started to cry.
“Why did you come here?”
He glanced at Cullen nervously and then back at me. “I-I need to talk to you…alone.”
Cullen grunted and took a menacing step toward him. “Not on yer nelly.”
I nodded. “Cullen’s right. We both know that’s not gonna happen. Say what you have to say and leave, Nick.”
“Not in front of this douchebag.”
“I can’t help you, then. Just leave us alone.”
Nick looked up at me, lip bleeding. He touched it with his tongue, then turned and grinned before walking to his car.
What a psycho.
Cullen stormed after him. I thought about following to make sure Cullen didn’t beat him to a bloody pulp, but after careful thought I decided I didn’t really care all that much.
I was washing the pan in the sink when Cullen came back inside. His knuckles looked bruised and cut.
“Is Nick still alive?”
“Aye, the wanker’s just fine.”
“That’s too bad,” I said and smiled. “Do you want me to make you a tea, or pour you a shot of whiskey?”
“No. I’m feelin’ better. The trees out back are a little worse for wear. What a total and utter gipe.”
He smacked his hand down on the counter and I jumped.
“I’m sorry, Aeval,” he said, sliding his hands around my waist from behind and dropping a kiss on my neck. “I didn’t mean to explode like that. It just pisses me off to think of what that little maggot did to ye.”
“It’s all right. I understand why you wouldn’t want him lingering around here. He gives me the creeps. I just don’t like violence. What if he goes to the guards and charges you or something? That would be just like him.”
“Ye’re right. I need to keep my wits about me but ye needn’t be worried about the garda. They know me and mine,” Cullen said, drawing me in securely against his chest.
Temple of Indra's Curse (Time-Traveling Bibliophile Book 2) Page 12
