“Okay.”
“He lost.”
“Go on.”
“He threw his pub in the pot.”
“Come again?”
“Eamon Foley won Sharkey’s Pub.” The phone clicked off. Siobhán stared at it for a long, long time. She took her scooter, her mind flying through the revelation. Losing his pub was just as strong a motive for murder as losing a horse. And Rory Mack didn’t bother to mention it. Instead he invited the Octopus to sleep it off in the storage room. It was three hours until the wake. When it was over, everyone would go home. The case might stay open, linger for years, or be closed as a suicide. She had too many questions, too many suspects, and too little time. But there was at least one thing she could do: confront Rory Mack about this whopper of a secret. She was in luck. When she arrived at Sharkey’s, Rory was behind the bar replacing stock. “I’m almost ready,” he said as Siobhán walked in.
“Did you take part in any of the poker games on Friday night?”
He stopped taking bottles out of cardboard boxes and looked to the ceiling as if the answers were written in the rafters. “I might have done.”
“It’s a yes-or-no question.”
“I believe I sat in on one game. Just for fun.” He winked.
“That’s a yes.” He was being squirrelly, and she was going to force him to admit it.
“Yes, Garda. Am I under arrest?”
“Did you make any bets other than cash?”
“I said it was just for the craic.”
“In the spirit of all this craic you were having, did you bet and lose this pub to Eamon Foley?”
“Who?”
“The Octopus.” The man we found hanging in your storage room.
“Why would I do that?”
“Rory Mack, you had better stop answering every one of my questions with a question. All I want from you is a yes or a no.”
He blinked. Then waited.
“Did you bet this pub in a poker game with Eamon Foley?”
He blinked again. “You’re constricting my answer.”
“How so?”
“Because I’d like to know where on earth did you hear dat?”
“That’s not an answer. A witness—let’s call him ’Unknown’—has come forward.”
“Not a very reliable witness, I’ll say dat.”
“And yet you haven’t answered the question.”
“I most certainly did not. I might have made a foolish remark. There was drink involved. You know yourself.” He frowned. “I heard dat widow is after Henry Moore’s racehorse. Is she the one stirring the pot? Is she after me pub now too?”
Does Rose know about the bet? “Has she been in here to see you?”
Rory’s face flushed red. “No!” His anger startled her. He registered her response. “I’m sorry. This murder has me on edge. I’ve not slept a wink since I heard the news. In me own pub! Well. You know yourself.”
She did know herself. And she didn’t want to think about that. “It’s too bad those cameras weren’t working. You’d be able to prove you didn’t bet the pub.”
“Yes,” he said, burying himself in boxes. “’Tis a pity, alright.”
She stood there, gaping at him, fury boiling in her veins. “We’ll talk to others, see if they remember it the same way.”
“’Course you will,” he said. “But it will be their word against mine, and everyone was blotto.”
She should stop talking. She had nothing else to confront him with but a mysterious caller. None of the other witnesses had reported that Rory Mack bet the pub. Maybe it was said in jest. If it wasn’t, they would need solid evidence. It was tough to do your job when so many of your clients were criminals. She headed out of the pub, yearning for fresh air. She’d be stuck in here for the wake, until then she wanted to be anywhere but here.
* * *
While Siobhán was weaving her way down Sarsfield Street, someone jostled her from behind. She turned to see Shane Ross twitching in front of her, sweat pouring off him in buckets. “Is it true the diamond I showed you was stolen?”
He was so close to her, they could have been dancing. “Yes,” she said. “Who told you?”
“Can I trust you?” His eyes flicked left and then right. “I don’t know who to trust.”
“You can trust me.”
“I think I’m being set up.”
“Then you better start talking.”
“How? I don’t know who to trust!” He started pacing. “This has gone too far. Too far. Way too far!”
“Why don’t you give me a try?” She waited. He stopped pacing, but couldn’t keep himself from fidgeting. “At least answer some of my questions.”
“I was in my room at the inn all day yesterday. I’d had enough of crowds. You can ask the old lady who runs the place.”
“I doubt Margaret spent her day keeping track of her guests coming and going.” Who was she kidding? That’s exactly what Margaret spent her days doing.
“I didn’t budge from me room all day.”
“How did you hear about the break-in?”
“Are they pointing the finger at me?”
“They have to investigate it fully. I had to report the situation.”
“Why doesn’t a jewelry store have cameras?”
“Apparently, the culprit disabled them.”
“How?” He seemed to be genuinely asking.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about abling cameras, let alone disabling them!”
“Are you even engaged?”
He looked away. “No.”
“Then why did you ask me to look at rings?”
“That sergeant. He asked me to show you the rings. To see which one you liked.”
“You’re joking me.” Now she was browned off. Either Shane Ross was lying, or Macdara was lying. If she wanted to find out, she’d have to ask Macdara again. Which would again bring up the entire subject of marriage. And that went so well the first time. What did she want? She wanted him to make the decision so she didn’t have to. What is so hard about that?
But this case was more urgent than their romance. One of them was lying. Siobhán would prefer if it wasn’t her lover. Shane Ross was the liar. He was playing her. Underestimating her. She would see how he liked deflection when it was used against him. “Do you have any idea how many folks made and lost bets to Eamon that night?”
“You’re joking. Almost everyone who was there.”
“Big-ticket items. Like the racehorse?”
“I see.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I wouldn’t t’ink anyone was too worked up about dat. I assured them he wasn’t going to follow through on any of those t’ings.”
“Wait. You did?”
He nodded. “I told yer man as much. Eamon was too drunk to remember any of those bets anyway.”
“Too drunk to remember winning a horse?” And a pub? And who knows what else? She highly doubted it. “How much did you lose to him?”
He dropped his arms again. “I knew it. You are pointing the finger at me.”
“I have more than one finger to point and this is a murder probe.”
“Then why does it feel like a hustle?”
“Perhaps your choice of a career has influenced the way you filter your experiences.”
“You’re interesting.”
“That’s one word for me.”
“I didn’t kill Eamon Foley.”
Do you steal diamonds, Shane? Is that why you’re really here? There was no way she could ask or even hint. She would be out on her ear if she interfered with an undercover operation.
“Is Clementine going to have to give a statement? Or is she not a suspect because she’s a colleen?”
“Both sexes are capable of murder.”
“Exactly.” Shane glanced up and down the street. “If anything happens to me, I’m blaming yer man.”
Macdara? “What are you talking about?”
/> “I told you. He’s the one who asked me to show you the rings. Why is he doing this to me?”
“I have to go. Will I see you at the wake?”
Shane nodded. “I told you. I’ll pay me respects to the widow and then I’m gone.”
Then you’re going to break into the jewelry store when everyone else is still paying their respects. She wished she could be a fly on the wall, see the expression on his face when he was caught. “I will see you later.”
He grabbed her elbow, swung her around. “You heard me say it. If anything happens to me, it was him who done it.”
* * *
Siobhán was passing by the hardware shop when Liam waved frantically at her from the window. She stepped into the shop. Liam waved her up to the counter. “I just remembered something.”
“Go on.”
“Before I tell you, I must say, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation.”
“I’m sure.”
“You asked if anyone had come before Saturday to buy rope.”
He had her attention now. “Yes, I did.”
“I wasn’t hiding this from you. It slipped me mind.”
“Go on then.”
“It was the first day everyone came to town and we were overwhelmed with all the tent poles, and stakes, and O-rings.”
“Spit it out.”
“Amanda Moore. She came into the shop. And she bought that rope.”
“You already told me. They buy it for the horses.”
He shook his head. “They do. That’s the point. They picked it up earlier in the month. She came in again. For more.”
“On Friday morning.”
“Exactly.”
“Early?”
He nodded. “The tents weren’t even being set up yet.”
“So it was before the players arrived in town.”
“Yes.”
“Before her father bet her prized racehorse in a poker game.”
“Exactly.” He stopped, thought about it. “Oh.” He let out a breath. “Quite innocent then. That’s a relief.”
“Yes.” She let out a breath too. Unless Amanda Moore could predict the future, she might have bought rope Friday morning, but it certainly wasn’t to hang a man she’d never met. However . . . it was a chaotic day. Did she buy the rope and then leave it somewhere by accident? Could it be the rope that ended up in Sharkey’s Pub? She thanked Liam and headed out, questions gathering in her mind like storm clouds.
Chapter 27
She wasn’t two seconds out the door when an orange Mustang zoomed by, engine revving, tires squealing. Eamon Foley’s car.
She hopped on her scooter, dialing Macdara as she revved it up. She got his voice mail. “Dara. Chasing after Eamon Foley’s car leaving Sarsfield.” She clicked off, then dialed 999 and gave the operator the same message before pulling out after the car. Although she couldn’t match its speed, it was so bright she’d be able to track where it went until the guards could catch up. Who on earth has possession of his car? Is it Rose? Whoever it was, he or she was driving it like they stole it. And unless it was Rose Foley, that’s exactly what the person was doing.
But why draw so much attention? It was like the person wanted to be chased. The car left the Ballygate entrance. By the time Siobhán was driving under the stone archway, it was just in time to see an orange tail disappear around a curve. Her mobile was ringing. Most likely, Macdara, but she was going too fast to answer safely. The car disappeared around the curve. Still, no sirens behind her. There were more curves ahead of that car. It had better slow down. Siobhán had the scooter at top speed and she wouldn’t even take the curves. She slowed down as she neared the first one, actively fighting her own adrenaline. Just as she came around the curve, the excruciating sounds of a crash rang out. Brakes screeching, metal smashing. Black smoke shot into the air. Siobhán cursed. Her instinct was to keep up her speed, but if she did, she, too, would wreck. Seconds later she came out of the curve and spotted the orange car on the side of the road. Its front end was smashed into a tree, crumpled like an accordion. Flames shot from the boot. Was the driver still alive? Sirens sounded, they were on their way, but by the time they arrived, it would be too late. Siobhán had no protective gear, but there was no time to waste. If she had her uniform on, she would at least have her baton. She ran for the driver’s-side door. She saw a blond head slumped over the wheel. “Hey. Wake up. Wake up.” Siobhán pounded on the window. The driver did not respond.
The smoke was starting to swirl out, angry and dark. Siobhán covered her mouth with her arm and yanked on the door. It wouldn’t budge. She yanked again. No movement. She scoured the ground and lunged for the biggest rock she could find. She pulled her sleeve over her fist, and holding the rock she punched the window. On her third try she cracked it, and on the fourth she shattered it enough to stick her hand inside.
Please let the lock be easy to reach. She had to lean against the hot car and bend down until the tips of her fingers touched the handle. She prayed, then shoved her hand farther and grabbed the latch. The flames were too close. She yanked her hand back up, reinforced the sleeve. Just do it. Fast. Hard. She shoved her hand in, grabbed the latch and lifted. The door creaked open. Thank God. She pried it open as far as it would go. The woman was wearing a seat belt. A petite blonde, face planted into the air bag. Please let it have saved her life. There wasn’t time for anything, but to get her out. It took three tries, but Siobhán finally released the seat belt, grabbed the woman from behind, and began to pull her out. Guard cars and ambulances were here now, pulling up behind her. “Siobhán!”
It was Macdara, but there was no time to turn around. She began to walk backward, dragging the woman as fast as she could from the flaming car. She was grateful the woman was so petite. By the time Siobhán reached a safe distance from the car and laid the woman down, she had worked out who she was. Their missing waitress.
* * *
Siobhán sat on the back of the ambulance with an oxygen mask on her face, watching as another ambulance pulled away with the young woman. She was still breathing, but unconscious. She did indeed appear to be their missing waitress, but they wouldn’t be sure until she woke up. If she woke up. Siobhán had been praying nonstop. Macdara was pacing in front of her, she’d never seen him so worked up. The fire was out, the volunteer firemen finished reeling in the hose, announcing a tow truck was on its way. They’d take the car to the local mechanic shop and go through every inch of it.
Siobhán removed the oxygen. That was enough, she was fine. “Dara. Please. You’re making me dizzy.”
“You could have been killed.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You should have waited.”
“The car was going to explode.”
He turned, stared at her. “Exactly!”
“You would have done the same thing. And you know it.”
“Don’t talk.”
“I’m fine.”
“Please, just a little more.” He put the oxygen mask back on her.
She hoped he wasn’t just trying to shut her up.
“I want you to go home for the rest of the day.”
Not a chance. She shook her head.
“We’ll cover the wake.”
She took the mask off. “Enough. I’m fine.” She threw the blanket off and stood. A wave of dizziness hit. She sat back down.
“See?”
“It’s all this oxygen. Stood up too fast. I’m fine.”
“You need to go to hospital.”
“I do not.”
“I’m calling James.”
“Dara.” She touched his arm.
“You’re a hero,” he said.
“I was just doing my job.”
“Please don’t ever do it again.”
Were those tears in his eyes? She would pretend not to notice them. “How about this. I’ll wait at the mechanic’s shop to see if there’s anything in the car. That will also give me some rest.”
“Th
at’s your idea of rest?”
“Take it or leave it.”
He sighed. “I’ll take it.”
“And maybe you can send someone to keep me company.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Trigger?”
She laughed. “No.”
“One of the six?”
“They’re busy. I was thinking of Amanda Moore.”
“You want to interview her during your ’me time.’ ”
“We never did get her side of the story. And she was there that evening.”
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Any word on the widow?”
He shook his head. “Maybe this waitress knows where she is, or . . .”
Siobhán finished it for him. “Or foul play may have come to Rose Foley.”
* * *
Siobhán was propped in the waiting room at the mechanic’s when Amanda Moore arrived. Siobhán bought them Cokes and crisps from the vending machine. She waited until they were a few sips in to lay the piece of rope on the small coffee table in front of them. As Liam identified, it was the same type of rope they bought, the same rope used to hang the Octopus.
“Recognize this?”
“It’s rope,” Amanda said. “The kind we buy for our horses.”
“When I was out at your farm the other day, you said you hadn’t purchased any new rope.” Amanda stared into her Coke. “Liam said you bought rope Friday morning before the players came to town.”
“It’s gone,” Amanda said. “I got caught up in the festival after I bought it. I left it at the festival.”
“Do you remember where?” Amanda nodded. She wouldn’t make eye contact. “Tell me.”
Amanda slid something out of her backpack. Sister Slayer. “I put it down at Eoin’s tent to look at this. It’s really good.”
Was this another secret Eoin and Ciarán were keeping from her? Did one of them bring the rope to Sharkey’s that evening? Or did someone else take it from the table after Amanda left? “And yet you didn’t think to tell the guards about this?”
“It’s only a rope,” Amanda said. “Not diamonds.” Is it just a coincidence she mentioned diamonds? Or is the story out that Tom’s shop had been broken into? “It’s that woman. Rose. She probably killed him. Then she has the nerve to try and take my horse. She’s evil!”
Murder in an Irish Pub Page 21
