Murder in an Irish Cottage

by Carlene O'Connor

  “They asked me to stay back. I don’t think so, but I wasn’t privy to everything. Nothing has been removed yet though.”

  “You’re sure you didn’t see it?” Jane was starting to sound desperate.

  “Other than the papers on the counter, and the items we mentioned in the bedroom, the cottage was sparse.”

  “Papers?” Jane’s alarm was obvious. “What papers?”

  “A stack of papers on the kitchen counter,” Macdara said. “Maybe from her teaching days?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Jane said. “She didn’t keep anything like that. The only thing she ever kept on the counter was her bottle of Powers. Good luck if you ever stole dat.”

  “I’m only guessing as to the contents of the papers,” Macdara said. “We didn’t look.”

  “How could you not look?”

  Now Jane was needling at Macdara. Siobhán’s patience was stretching. She told herself she would not snap. Siobhán felt a presence, and looked up to find Danny, half hidden near the tunnel of trees, trying to catch her eye. She made her way over to him. “Did you get a look at the sink?” His voice was low.

  She shook her head. “Why?”

  “Text me when you’re alone.”

  She glanced over her shoulder where Macdara was watching them. “Alone?”

  Danny’s eyes flicked to Dara, then looked away. “His aunt is the victim.”

  Siobhán nodded. She didn’t want to keep secrets from Macdara, but Danny was right, Macdara was too close to the victim. And she wanted to know what was in the sink. She would tell him all about it later. Catching a killer was the priority. Wouldn’t Macdara do the same if he was in her position?

  “These guards will clear out in a few hours,” Danny continued. “Text me then.” He turned and disappeared.

  “What was that all about?” Macdara sounded suspicious.

  “He was just confirming that they would be on the lookout for the car that almost ran us down.”

  “I see.” He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t want to start an argument in front of his cousin. Siobhán shifted her gaze to the farmhouse in the distance. Squeals of children playing rang out from their front yard. The handsome, peeping farmer was high on her list. “While they’re doing all this waiting, what do you say we pay your closest neighbors a visit?”

  “Those teetotalers?” Jane sneered. “Good luck. The Madigan women are to blame for all of this. They led the crusade against the cottage.”

  “They’re the closest to the crime scene as well,” Macdara said.

  “Our neighbors, the killers,” Jane deadpanned. “Guess there goes borrowing a cup of sugar.”

  “Maybe you should check into your local inn for a few hours, get some rest,” Siobhán said. Jane had been through a lot; she was wound up.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You need me to get in the door.”

  “Besides,” Macdara said, “I’d feel better if we stuck together.” He gave Siobhán a look. “At all times.” Was he trying to warn her not to meet Danny? He’d asked for her help. He had to let her do it her way. If she told him what Danny said, would Macdara agree to step back and have her meet Danny alone? Normally, but he was jealous when it came to Danny. Those were the facts. Too close to the victim, and clouded by jealousy. She had to get a look at that sink, and Danny wanted her to come alone. She trusted Danny, and to him, Macdara was a stranger. Siobhán was going to have to walk a tightrope with this one, and she already feared she was getting too high up without a net.

  Chapter 10

  Joe and Mary Madigan’s farmhouse had the feel of a wooly jumper way past its prime, but too comfy to throw out. It wouldn’t have won any awards for upkeep, but something about it said home. Mary Madigan stood on the porch with William clinging to her leg. Toys were scattered in the front yard, and in the distance a tractor plowed the fields. Beyond that cows and sheep grazed on the hilltop. In the yard, Lilly Madigan gripped a pair of dolls by their necks, banging their heads together. Mary Madigan fanned herself with a paperback novel. Her hair hung in waves around her pleasant face. Her bright eyes were inquisitive but guarded as Siobhán, Macdara, and Jane approached. “Is it eggs you’re after?” she called when they were a few feet away.

  “My mother is murdered, my home is a crime scene, and this one thinks I want eggs,” Jane said under her breath. “Typical.”

  No love between neighbors, Siobhán noted as her stomach grumbled at the second mention of eggs. It was really a murderer they were after, but there was no law against multitasking. They’d planned on having a meal as soon as they’d arrived and of course that was out the window.

  “Garda Flannery and Garda O’Sullivan here,” Macdara called. “I’m Ellen Delaney’s nephew.”

  Although the smile didn’t quite leave Mary’s face, it did seem to freeze in place as if it was taking great pain to keep it there. Her eyes flicked to Siobhán. “We’ve already met.”

  “We have?” Macdara’s eyebrow went up.

  Siobhán filled him in. “First in the road. Then Jane and I met her at the market.” Siobhán turned back to Mary. “This is my fiancé,” she said. She bumped Macdara’s arm with her fist in case he had any doubt she was talking about him.

  “Really?” Macdara said, giving her boot a light tap with his. “Total strangers?”

  “I’m giving it a practice run,” Siobhán shot back. “Happy?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Sorry to meet under such tragic circumstances,” Mary said. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Love one,” Macdara said. “Is your husband home?”

  “Joesph,” she yelled. Seconds later his head popped out of the barn. The muscles in his arms flexed as he tossed a bale of hay into the pen next to him.

  “What is it?” If that was the tone he normally reserved for his wife, Siobhán felt sorry for her.

  “We’ve got visitors.” She made “visitors” sound like “assassins.”

  He leaned a shovel against the wall of the barn and headed for them with a wave. “How ye.” A moment later a cow ambled out, following close behind. “Jane, we’re very sorry about your mother. What a shock.” The words came out rehearsed, and void of true feeling.

  “Terrible shock,” Mary repeated. If a UFO descended on the front yard and aliens stood on the ship applauding these stiff actors, Siobhán wouldn’t have been surprised. She wanted to shake this husband and wife and see if any real emotions accidentally tumbled out of them. Maybe they’d been taken over by fairies. Mary Madigan’s eyes flicked in the direction of the cottage. The cow mooed, her big watery eyes pinned on Macdara.

  “You’ve got an admirer.” Siobhán nudged Macdara, and he looked up to find the cow tracking his every move. Dara frowned, looked away, then glanced back at his bovine fan.

  “I saw the bad people,” Lilly sang from the yard. “And a bad, bad witch.”

  Siobhán took a step toward the girl. “You did?” Lilly looked up, her eyes nearly as big as the cow’s.

  She nodded, then pointed toward the cottage. “They were dancing.”

  “Dancing?” Siobhán said. “Who was dancing?”

  “The people. And they made a pretty light.” Her hands fanned out as she described the light. What a wee dolt. Siobhán wanted to give her a good squeeze. Her brood was all grown up. She missed having wee ones around.

  “When was this?”

  Mary Madigan stepped in front of Siobhán, blocking her view of the girl. “Please don’t encourage her. Her nana has been telling stories of the fairies. I wish she’d stop.”

  “I’ll have a word with her,” Joe said. He took Jane’s arm to guide her up the steps.

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” Mary said.

  * * *

  They gathered in the homey kitchen. Like the outside it held the clutter of a life well lived. Over the sink was a window. Filling it was the cow’s large head. Once again, she seemed to be staring at Macdara.

  “She’s a curious one,”
Siobhán said. She nudged Dara. “I think she’s in love with you.”

  “What are you on about?” Macdara said.

  “She can’t take her eyes off you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Macdara looked up to once again find the cow staring at him. The tips of Macdara’s ears flamed red. For the first time in her life, Siobhán wanted to bring home a cow.

  “Aye,” Joe answered. “She likes you alright. She thinks she’s a dog.”

  Mary poured them tea, then opened a tin of biscuits and placed them on the table. “Would you like a biscuit with your tea?” Joe said to Jane. “Or milk?”

  “Milk, please,” she said. “Just a dash.” The cow mooed and everyone jumped, then laughed.

  “We’d like to help,” Joe said. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “We can arrange a mass for your mother,” Mary said. “Will you be burying her here?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane said. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  Macdara cleared his throat. “I thought we’d have her service in Kilbane. Me mam might want her buried there as well.”

  “Right,” Jane said. “I’m sorry they never got the chance to sort things out. I won’t argue about where she’s to be buried.”

  The sun hit a bottle of Powers whiskey sitting on the counter and for a second Siobhán was lost in a beam of gold. Macdara and Jane would need to have a sit-down and hash out the burial arrangements. It was messy business, death, and yet mourners were forced to deal with logistics. Siobhán didn’t envy them.

  “We could still have a small memorial for her here,” Joe said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Mary said, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “We’ll come out to Kilbane.”

  “Of course,” Joe said. “We will, of course.”

  Siobhán was dying for the pleasantries to end. They’d save so much time if everyone just said what was on their mind. Macdara must have agreed for he spoke first.

  “We’d like to know the last time you saw Ellen, plus an account of everything you did over the weekend.”

  “You’re not guards,” Joe said. He was smiling, but there was an edge to his voice. After he spoke his gaze shifted to Jane as if waiting to see whose side she was on.

  “They are guards,” Mary said. “They said they were guards.”

  Joe treated his wife to a searing look. She bowed her head. “They have no jurisdiction here. Why don’t you let our guards do the questioning?”

  “Please,” Jane said. “I asked them to help.”

  “I don’t see how we can help,” Joe said.

  Siobhán cut in. “Just tell us about the last time you saw Ellen.”

  Joe and Mary exchanged looks. “They mean for sure,” Joe said. “When are we sure we saw her?”

  Mary tilted her head up. “Was it Wednesday we were at the shops? Or Thursday?”

  “You didn’t see her on Friday?” Jane said. “Not coming or going?”

  Siobhán was wondering the same thing. The front of the cottage was in clear view from their front porch. Especially when Joe was “bird-watching.” Siobhán turned to Joe. “What did you mean a minute ago? Was there a time you might have seen her but you weren’t sure?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I’d rather get into this with our guards if you don’t mind.”

  Siobhán sighed. It would be easier to get answers from the cow.

  “I mind,” Jane said. “I want to know. No. I need to know.”

  “We know something strange went on Friday night over the hill,” Siobhán said. “Some people in town said they saw a figure running across the field. Did you see it too?”

  “The witch,” a voice said from the foot of the table. The little girl was standing there, holding a doll in each hand by the neck. “She was screaming.”

  “Hush,” Mary said.

  Siobhán was dying to ask the child more, but she wasn’t going to step on a mother’s toes.

  “Talk to my mam,” Joe said. “She was the one who saw her.”

  “Joe wasn’t home Friday night,” Mary said. “I was with their nana with the children. But it was Geraldine who saw the figure in the field.”

  “I was out of town,” Joe confirmed. Siobhán opened her mouth to ask where when he cut in. “Farming business.”

  Had to see a man about a horse? She kept that to herself. “Oh?”

  “We need new equipment. I tested some tractors.”

  “Did you buy any?”

  “Couldn’t come to an agreement.”

  She was dying to dig into his alibi, as she felt he was spinning a lie, but she could see from the set of his mouth that he wouldn’t reveal anything more. Sometimes questioning suspects was like a game of poker. You had to know when to fold them. This little family had already concocted their responses and they were sticking to the script. With the exception of Lilly, who had plenty say, but she wasn’t going to be allowed to say it. Siobhán would pass Joe’s alibi along to Danny to scrub. “Where does your mother live?”

  “Just beyond the cottage,” Jane said. “In the other direction. Walking distance in fact.”

  “How did she see anything?” Macdara asked.

  “She stayed here Friday night,” Joe said.

  Mary nodded. “I don’t like to be alone when he’s away.”

  “Did you see Ellen before you left?” Siobhán addressed the question to Joe, but Mary responded by brushing a strand of hair out of her face with a shaking hand. Siobhán wondered if her limbs always vibrated, or if the questions were making her nervous.

  “Just tell them,” she said, chewing on her lip.

  “We saw the big black car,” Lilly said. She thumped the dolls’ heads on the edge of the table. Siobhán was starting to pray that this one never had children of her own. On the other hand, Lilly and the cow seemed the only two willing to be open.

  “A big black car?” Siobhán asked. She glanced at Jane. “Was it Ellen’s?”

  “We only have the old truck,” Jane said. “We barely used it.”

  Siobhán had almost forgotten about the truck. Nowhere to be seen. Had the killer taken it? Why on earth would they do that? For a quick escape? It seemed if they were going to drive away in the truck, they would have taken her body with them. The investigation would be for a missing person instead of a murder, which could have bought them time. She turned to Jane. “Was there anywhere else your mam would park the truck? Or anyone she could have lent it to?”

  “The truck is missing?” Joe Madigan sounded surprised.

  “Have you seen it?” Macdara asked.

  “No, no,” Joe said quickly. He stood. “Sorry we couldn’t help.” He threw his wife a look, and she stood.

  “Joe thinks someone spent the night in our barn Friday night.”

  “Mary!”

  “It could be important. What if it was the killer?”

  Macdara was on high alert. “What’s the story?”

  Joe stared at the floor for a minute, then looked up and crossed his arms. “The hay in the loft of the barn was disturbed. It appeared as if someone had slept there.”

  “Have you told the guards?”

  “Not yet, was waiting for them to come to me.”

  Macdara pulled out his mobile. “I’ll give them a heads-up. Was there anything else? Anything at all?”

  Lilly tugged on her father’s shirt. “Tell them about all the dead micey.”

  “What?” Siobhán wasn’t sure which one of them spoke first, for the question came from her and Macdara.

  Joe shook his head. “We had a problem with field mice.”

  “Yikes,” Siobhán said. Mice could be cute, from a distance, say out in a field. Her affection shifted the moment the wee things wanted to share walls and a roof.

  “We’ll say prayers for Ellen. And you,” Mary said, reaching out and grabbing Jane’s hand. Jane snatched hers away.

  Macdara rose, but Jane remained sitting. Macdara leaned down and whispered into
her ear, then helped her up.

  “I don’t know of any fairy stories that involve big black cars,” Siobhán said when they reached the doorway. “Do you know what your daughter was referring to?”

  “She’s highly imaginative,” Joe said. He opened the door and they all filed out onto the porch. “It’s no secret we wanted the cottage bulldozed. Now I wish we’d gotten our way. I’m very sorry, Jane. I’m sorry we couldn’t help.”

  “I understand,” Jane said. “Thank you anyway.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Joe said, shooing them down the steps of the porch, and herding them down the driveway like they were stray sheep in need of a good shepherd.

  “You’ve lived here for how long?” Siobhán asked.

  “I was born here,” Joe said. “Like my father and grandfather before me.”

  As they walked, the cow followed behind Macdara, nudging her nose into his ear. He was trying to be a good sport about it, but the tips of his ears were still bright red. Siobhán knew she shouldn’t tease him about it later, and also knew that would be impossible. The cow was in love. She was going to tease him the rest of his life. “Play hard to get,” she said to the cow. “Don’t be giving that milk away for free.”

  Macdara would have glowed in the dark. “Hilarious.”

  She laughed and turned her attention back to Joe Madigan, who was leading them off his property at a fast clip. What had spooked him? Mentioning the truck? “Since you’ve lived here all your life, I assume you know the history of the cottage?” Siobhán hoped if she kept poking, he’d say something he’d regret.

  “Aye.”

  “Can you tell us about it?”

  “Lived here all me life. If that cottage isn’t cursed, I’d hate to see a structure that is.”

  “It must be tough to live so close to it.”

  He sighed. “If it’s ghost stories you want it’s my mam you should speak with.” They’d reached the end of the lane. “Let us know when the funeral is planned, and we’ll pay our respects. Give us a bell if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  Yeah right, anything. Anything, as long as it amounted to nothing. Only the cow seemed sorry to see them go.