Jane laughed. “It’s okay, most people are ignorant. It has special features that concentrate more on sound, as well as other functions that help. Why do you ask?”
“Did you call her when she wasn’t there? Did you speak on the phone at all since you left Thursday?”
Jane came to an abrupt stop, and Siobhán had to step into the meadow not to mow her down. When Jane turned, Siobhán couldn’t tell if the stricken look on her face was that of a liar caught in a lie, or if she was concentrating on the question. “I know it seems as if we must have been close.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “And we were. We lived together. But I didn’t intend to spend my precious alone time on the phone with my mother, and I’m sure she felt the same.” Jane lifted her chin to the skies, which had been sunny since the farmers’ market. They began to walk again, once more Jane tapping out a fast clip.
“That is understandable. But what about when she didn’t show?”
“I called her, of course. Her phone went straight to voice mail.”
“Was that unusual?”
“Not at all. Mam only brought that phone with her if we were apart, and she often forgot to turn it on let alone charge it.”
“I thought she was a very organized person.”
“Not when it came to that phone.” Jane frowned. “It bothers me that you didn’t see it in the cottage.”
“Honestly, we were in and out. Hopefully the guards will find it.”
“They’re probably in there right now, touching all of her things. She would hate that.” There were probably other things she would hate more, such as the fact that someone had murdered her, but Siobhán was hardly going to point this out.
“What about the way she was dressed?”
Jane shook her head. “I have never heard Mam describe an outfit like that. The only time she ever dressed up was for weddings and funerals.”
“And you had no inkling or suspicion that she may have been romantically involved with someone?”
“It’s not the kind of thing she would have shared with me. In fact, she would have relished keeping a secret like that from me.” Jane stopped again and turned. “Do you think she would still be alive if I had called the guards the minute I saw she wasn’t at the bus stop?”
A butterfly zipped past them and landed on a patch of heather. She wished Jane could see the beauty around them. But that probably wasn’t a helpful thought; perhaps it was better to focus on the positive. “I don’t think so, luv. The pathologist will give us the exact time of death, but in my opinion a few hours wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“I’ve been thinking and thinking about this.” She sped up. “Someone is trying to frame me for her murder.”
“Why do you think that?”
“They poisoned her. Most likely with something taken out of our own garden.”
“But you were in Dublin all weekend. As soon as you give the guards your train ticket, hotel information, and the info on the conference, they’ll drop you as a suspect.”
“I shouldn’t have gone at all. She’d still be alive.”
“You can’t blame yourself.” Unless you’re the killer. Every instinct in Siobhán warned her that Jane was lying about her weekend away. If she wasn’t in Dublin, where had she been? Had it all been a cover to give herself an alibi for murder? If so, did she really think she wouldn’t be asked to prove it? “How did you get back to the cottage?”
“The same way we’re getting around now. I walked.” Siobhán felt like an idiot. Again. “It was more for the ceremony of it that Mam liked to pick me up. I have some sight.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” Jane stopped. She pointed to the heather. “I can see the shade is somewhat darker here, than the rest of the meadow.” She turned to the road. “And even darker there.” She looked above them. “Of course I can tell when the sun is out, but even if it weren’t for the lighter shade, I can feel it, of course. It can be difficult to determine when I’m relying on sight alone and when my other senses are filling in. You don’t have to see pitch black to be considered legally blind. I can make out shapes, and certain shades, just not features. Between that and my cane, I get along well enough.” As if to demonstrate, she started moving again, at the fastest clip yet.
Even with a bit of sight it would be difficult to navigate the rugged terrain of this village. “What happened when you arrived at the cottage?”
“I discovered the door was ajar. I didn’t realize the window had been broken until after I stepped in.” Even though Siobhán was walking behind her, she could see Jane shudder. “I thought she was sleeping at first. But she was too cold. Too still. I didn’t want to disturb the scene, but I felt a breeze as I was leaving, coming from the window. I discovered the smashed panes of glass with my cane.” Siobhán heard a sniffle, and when she caught up to Jane’s side, she saw tears rolled down her cheeks. Siobhán wished she had a tissue to hand her, but she was more than a little relieved to see Jane finally shed some tears. “Wait a minute,” Jane said, wiping her tears and stopping yet again. “There’s something else. A smell . . .”
“Go on.”
“At first I thought it was cologne.”
“Cologne? Not perfume?”
“Mam didn’t wear perfume.”
“She was dressed up. Maybe for a special occasion.”
“A date?” Jane’s lips pursed.
“Yes.”
Jane shook her head. “If so, she picked a terrible scent.” She placed her index finger on her lips and tapped. “Some kind of furniture polish? Shoe polish? Something between cologne and . . . leather?”
Siobhán whipped her mobile from her pocket and tapped the revelation into her notes. The method was growing on her. “Anything else? Anything at all? More smells. Or sounds?”
“I could hear there was a crowd gathered down the street. I had no idea what people were doing, gathered in the road.”
“A tree had fallen across it, and they were chattering about the strange events last night.”
Jane nodded. “I thought they knew about Mam. It’s one of the reasons I called Dara. Nobody in this village liked us, not even the guards. Now I’m supposed to trust them to investigate thoroughly? You saw yourself, they’re taking ages to get to the crime scene.”
“It does complicate things,” Siobhán agreed. She stopped talking to focus on her breath. She’d done more walking so far today than she did in a few days in Kilbane, counting her morning runs. Say what you want about the smaller villages, but this was some serious cardio.
“The things they were saying . . . a full moon, strange noises, a scream, the figure running toward the cottage . . .” Jane reached out and put her hands on Siobhán’s shoulders. “Do you think . . . that was my mother screaming?”
It had certainly crossed Siobhán’s mind. Had the killer pursued her home? “Could you think of any reason she’d be out at night?”
Jane shook her head. “Not one. We sometimes went out at night together, for a walk. It’s lovely on a summer night. But my mother running across meadows and screaming?” She stopped and stared as if she was imagining the events unfolding before her eyes. “Ask Dara. Mam didn’t scare easily. She was usually the one scaring others.”
Just ahead several guard cars were parked alongside a gravel path. Siobhán described it. “Finally,” Jane said.
They had almost reached the turn-in when Jane grabbed Siobhán’s arm, then shoved her into the meadow with both hands. Siobhán let out a yelp of surprise as Jane hurled down the hill after her. Seconds later a blur of a car zoomed past, tires screeching, dirt flying from its wheels.
Siobhán scrambled to her feet as the car disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. She struggled to process what just happened. There seemed to be only one conclusion. The car had been gunning for them, and Jane Delaney had just saved her life.
Chapter 9
They stood by the rusty gate now marked with white and blue crime scene tape. Moments
later, a familiar voice filtered through the air as Macdara made his way toward them. After their close call Siobhán had to hold herself back from hurling herself into his arms. It was terrifying how fragile life was. Behind him on the path was Danny MacGregor, or should she say Garda MacGregor. It had been a while since their days at Templemore Garda College, but she could see straightaway that it was the same jovial Danny. He wasn’t overly tall, shorter than Macdara, but he was strong and handsome. His blond hair was cropped closely, and his hazel eyes had the usual playful glint as he grinned at her. She may not have made it through training without Danny’s encouragement. “O’Sullivan!” he called out from several feet away. Macdara frowned.
“Danny!” He broke into a jog, then embraced her, lifting her off her feet and whirling her around in a circle. The ground was still spinning after he set her down. “You look a mess, O’Sullivan,” Danny said, plucking a leaf out of her hair and roaring with laughter.
“Right, you two know each other,” Jane said. “What a happy reunion.”
Siobhán brushed dirt off herself. “We were nearly run over.”
“What did you just say?” There was Macdara, at her side, his voice filled with concern.
“A car nearly plowed into us. Jane saved us.”
“Eejits are always speeding on that road.” Danny shook his head in disgust.
“No,” Siobhán said. “I mean yes, they were speeding, but . . . I’m telling you . . . it was aiming for us.”
“Up there?” Macdara pointed to the road.
Siobhán nodded. “I didn’t see any tire tracks.”
“We’ll check it out,” Danny said. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Such a small world,” Jane said, her face turning toward Macdara.
“This woman was the star of our class at Templemore.” Danny pulled Siobhán in with an easy arm around her shoulders. “I worshipped her.”
“Did you now?” Macdara’s tone was clipped.
“Don’t listen to a word of it,” Siobhán said lightly. “Danny was the one everyone worshipped.” She leaned in as Danny laughed. “He broke the record for the tires every time.”
“The tires?” Jane said.
“We had to carry them while running through an obstacle course,” Siobhán said. “Everyone always dreaded it. Except for Danny here.”
“It was only to best you,” Danny said with a wink.
“That settles it,” Macdara said. “He’ll be grand on the case. As long as the solution depends on him running fast whilst carrying tires.”
Danny laughed again, but Siobhán was simmering. Jealousy wasn’t Macdara’s best color. Siobhán went to introduce Danny to Jane. “It’s a small village,” Jane said, cutting her off. “We know each other.”
“Six months into the job and I have my own murder probe,” Danny said. Excitement danced in his eyes.
“How lucky for you,” Jane said. Siobhán could tell the family resemblance from their sarcasm.
All color drained from Danny’s face. He was on the pale side of Irish pale, which was saying something, and now his face was nearly translucent. He stammered apologies to Jane.
“The forensic team is here; don’t you worry, everyone is focused on finding the killer.”
Jane nodded. “As you should be.”
Macdara moved to Siobhán’s side. Just then another guard rounded the bend. He was in his sixties and weathered, as if years of rain and wind had sculpted his face. “Jane,” he called, “is that you?”
Jane smiled at the sound of the voice. “Yes, Sergeant Eegan. Danny was just telling us how thrilled he is that me mother was murdered,” Jane said. “Apparently, it will be good for his career.”
“What’s that now?” Sergeant Eegan said, settling on Danny with a glare.
Danny’s face flamed red. “A misstatement is all; apologies again.”
A smile played at the corner of Jane’s mouth. She was enjoying taking him down a peg. Interesting. Siobhán was going to have to find an artful way to grill Macdara about his porcupine of a cousin.
Macdara introduced Siobhán and Detective Sergeant Eegan, and then talk turned back to the subject of murder.
“We haven’t concluded it was murder,” Sergeant Eegan declared, looking around as if performing for an invisible audience. “Is there any chance your mother took too many sleeping tablets?”
“Not unless you count a nip of whiskey,” Jane said. “It was her cure for everything.”
“Maybe she took too many nips?” Eegan asked hopefully. He searched their faces for agreement.
“Unlikely,” Macdara said. “Unless you’ve ever encountered a whiskey that causes one to foam at the mouth.”
“And there’s an overturned teacup at the scene but no whiskey bottle,” Siobhán pointed out.
“And the fact that the door was ajar and the main window broken,” Macdara finished.
Eegan frowned, then shifted his weight to the other foot as if one was better than the other for contemplating the matter.
“It certainly looked like foul play to me, Sergeant,” Danny said. He glanced at Jane as if bracing himself for another snide remark. “The foam and bruising around her mouth.”
“Exactly,” Siobhán said. “And her hands neatly posed.” She was eager for him to lay out his plan of action. They had to wait for the arrival of the state pathologist, but they could begin questioning the townsfolk. Something wild went on Friday night and by Saturday morning Ellen Delaney was dead.
“Settled?” Sergeant Eegan said. “Because this green lad says so?” He jerked his thumb to Danny. “Better be careful who you believe around here, little lassie.”
Siobhán stuck out her hand, which was very adult of her given she wanted to use it to punch Garda Eegan in the face. “I no longer go by ‘little lassie,’ ” she said with a smile. “You can call me Garda O’Sullivan.”
“Would you look at that,” Garda Eegan said, turning to Macdara. “Ye are coming out of the woodwork. Well, don’t you worry, we’ve got it covered with Cork City. We’ll know as soon as the toxicology report comes back. In the meantime this is my crime scene and you’ll have to stay out of it.”
“I need to fetch my luggage bag,” Jane said.
“Not possible,” Garda Eegan said. “It’s evidence now.”
“It arrived with me. After me mam was already dead. It can’t be evidence.”
“It’s in my crime scene and my crime scene will not be contaminated,” Garda Eegan said.
Siobhán placed her hand on Jane’s arm. “We’ll sort you out in Kilbane. I’ve two sisters. Between the three of us you’ll be grand. We can even do a bit of shopping if you’d like.”
“I’d like to get my bag.” If Siobhán wasn’t mistaken, a look of panic rippled across Jane’s face. Was there something particular in the suitcase she was worried about?
“Why don’t you mark the bag as an exhibit to go through quickly,” Macdara suggested. “Perhaps it could then be returned.”
“No,” Garda Eegan said. “I will not be rushed or have anyone interfering. Either of you.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Jane said. “Get detecting.”
“They’ll be waiting for the pathologist to arrive,” Siobhán explained. “That may delay matters.”
Garda Eegan folded his arms. “We’ve been given permission to move the body to Cork University Hospital. The pathologist will meet us there to do her postmortem. I’ll be sure to mention the sleeping tablets.”
Siobhán was getting tired of smiling, which was her signature move when dealing with men who didn’t want to listen to a woman. If that failed, she usually paired it with a dose of heavy sarcasm. “With your theory, Ellen Delaney must have busted her own window, ingested a deadly toxin, smothered herself with a pillow, then peacefully folded her hands over her dying body.” She stopped for a breath. “And I suppose her truck drove off on its own with her handbag and mobile?”
Eegan’s eyes scanned her, from head
to toe, and back up again. His eyes flicked to Dara, as if searching for backup. Macdara simply stared back. Eegan shifted his weight, removed his cap, put it back on. “I’ve heard some of them tablets can make you do things in your sleep. Order items off the internet.”
“This village cut off our internet,” Jane said.
“You’re welcome,” Eegan replied. “I bet she would have been ordering all kinds of things and you’d be stuck with the bill.”
“We can help,” Siobhán said, mostly to Danny, who had gone so silent she’d almost forgotten he was here.
“How can you help?” Garda Eegan asked before Danny could utter a word. Not only had the poor lad been sent to this village, he wasn’t even allowed to flex his considerable skills. Why on earth did he stay? If Siobhán’s memory served, his girlfriend was from this small village and she had no desire to relocate.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Garda Eegan said. “Go home. We’ll take over from here.”
He was certainly in a hurry for them to leave. “Have you ever had a murder in Ballysiogdun?” Siobhán asked.
“This would be the first,” Danny said. The other guard cut his smile with a look. “Not that we’re happy about it. Not in the least. ’Tis terrible.” Poor Danny. They all kept staring, and he kept talking.
“My cousin is an excellent detective,” Jane said. “So is Siobhán O’Sullivan.”
“I won’t be reading my CV to either of you,” Garda Eegan said. “If you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.”
“Did you find Ellen’s handbag or mobile phone in the cottage?” Siobhán asked. “Do you have an eye out for her truck?”
“Her truck is key,” Macdara said. “Unless you think a fairy drove off in it?”
“Good day.” Garda Eegan whirled around and strode away. With a last look and a shrug, Danny followed.
“The victim is my aunt,” Macdara called after them. “We’ll steer clear of your official inquiries, but I will be staying until we’re good and ready to leave and I expect regular updates on the investigation.”
Siobhán placed her hand on Dara’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Do you know if they found her handbag or mobile phone?”
Murder in an Irish Cottage Page 7
