Emily nodded. “I think he’s on break.” She straightened her sheets. “Am I in trouble?”
“We’ve been wanting to speak with you. I won’t be able to promise anything until I know the facts. But I do know that you can never run from the things you’ve done. They’ll follow you. Even if the authorities never catch you, lies have a way of eating you up.”
Tears filled the girl’s eyes. “I brought Eamon Foley the cold deck.”
“You wanted to help him cheat?”
“No. He knew nothing about it.” She sniffed. “Is that why he did it? Because of what I did?”
“I think it’s more complicated than that. But you can help us get to the bottom of this. Who asked you to bring him the Dead Man’s Hand?”
“I didn’t bring him the Dead Man’s Hand. The dealer did that. The deck was just a distraction. The dealer switched the hand when I brought the water. Then I dropped the deck on his chair.”
“Who asked you to do this?”
Emily pointed to her bedside table where her handbag sat. Siobhán handed it to her. She pulled out a piece of stationery. She handed it to Siobhán. On it a single phrase was written: I’m an undercover operator for the SSU.
Nathan Doyle . . . something didn’t fit. “He told you he was undercover?” How many people had he dragged into this operation?
She nodded. “He came to one of my shows. In Dublin.”
“One of your shows?”
Her face lit up. “I’m a magician’s assistant.”
“I see.”
“The dealer who switched the hand is the magician.” She leaned in and whispered, “He’s my boyfriend.”
“Where is your boyfriend?” How ironic, the magician made himself disappear.
“He left Friday night. I wanted to stay.” She sighed. “Big mistake.”
“Did he show you his badge?”
“My boyfriend?”
“Sorry. The undercover guard.”
“Shane Ross has a badge? He’s a guard?” She frowned. “I thought he was more like an informant.”
Siobhán started. “Shane Ross?”
The girl frowned. “Shane Ross.”
Siobhán felt like she was caught in the middle of one of those confusing comedy routines. “Shane Ross told you he was an undercover operator?”
“Yes. I just told you he came to my show. I showed you his note!” She rolled her eyes. “You’d think you were the one who had been in a car wreck.”
Siobhán let the dig go. She had bigger things to worry about: What does this all mean? Does Shane Ross know about our investigation into him? Why is he still in Kilbane? Does he know we’re expecting him to attempt another break-in? Should I call Macdara? I should tell Nathan Doyle . . .
“Have you ever spoken to Nathan Doyle?”
“Who?”
“The coordinator who announced all the games?”
She frowned, then shook her head. “Only Shane Ross.”
“How long ago did he find you?”
“Let’s see.” She pulled out her mobile and opened a calendar app. “My show a fortnight ago. He was waiting for me after.”
Siobhán tried not to show too much alarm, she had more questions for her and didn’t want to startle her. Premeditated was right. Eamon Foley’s murder had been in the works for at least two weeks, probably a lot longer. If Siobhán had to guess, she had a pretty good idea that this murder had been planned since Rose found out she was pregnant. “You didn’t think to tell us what you knew earlier?”
Emily placed her hand over her heart. “I figured Shane would take care of it. He’s the undercover one. Not me. I was just honored to help.” She bit her lip. “But did I help? I would have never gotten involved if I knew Eamon was going to do that to himself. Did they drive him to it?”
Siobhán wasn’t going to answer the unanswerable. “How did you end up in Eamon Foley’s car?”
She pulled her knees up, the blanket tenting, making her seem like a child. “I was tricked.”
“Tricked?”
“She set me up!”
“Who?”
“Rose.” She clamped her lips. “She said she didn’t want it. Sold it to me for ten euro.”
“She knew you delivered a cold deck to her husband and she sold you his car for ten euro?” The widow certainly acted upset about the car being stolen. Which one is the liar?
Emily reclined. “I need to sleep.”
“This is important. She told you to take the car. The brakes failed. You could have been killed.”
“Are you saying she knew? She . . . wanted me to die?”
“You set her husband up as a cheat. Didn’t it give you pause that she was selling a sporty little car for ten euro?” Siobhán’s empathy was draining. A little common sense was in order.
Emily chewed on her lip. “I didn’t think she knew who I was.”
“How did you find out it was for sale?”
Emily looked away. “She ran into me. Asked if I knew anyone who was interested.” Before Siobhán could chastise her a second time, Emily crossed her arms and glared. “I get it. I was played.” Siobhán sighed. Some people were their own worst enemies. “Are you going to arrest her?”
“We need to gather all the facts. If we can prove she knew the brakes would fail, then yes. We will arrest her.”
“But she might get away with it?” Emily’s eyes danced with anger.
“Let me worry about that. Get some rest.”
Emily reached out, grabbed Siobhán’s hand, and squeezed. “Thanks a million.” Siobhán started to leave. Emily yanked her back, her grip surprisingly strong. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That.”
Before Siobhán could ask anything more, she felt a presence behind her. It was too late to even turn around. Something was shoved over her head. A pillowcase. It tightened. She struggled and landed a kick to the person holding her. A male voice groaned. “Try that again and you won’t be able to breathe.” She didn’t recognize his voice. The pillowcase tightened even more.
“Stop struggling.” It was Emily. “We’re not going to hurt you. You just need to let us get away.”
So the magician boyfriend hasn’t disappeared after all. Siobhán had a strong feeling that’s who had a hold on her.
The person behind her began to move Siobhán backward. They walked a few feet, as she continued to kick—and every time she did, the pillowcase tightened. If she didn’t stop, he might accidentally asphyxiate her. They stumbled a few more feet.
“In there,” she heard Emily say.
Siobhán heard the creak of a door. Next she was shoved from behind. She lost her balance and hit her chin on a hard surface as she heard a door slam behind her. She whipped off the pillowcase. She was in the bathroom. She lunged at the door. Something was lodged on the other side, trapping her inside. Eejits. She reached for her mobile. Amateurs. She’d be out of here soon. The bigger questions were: Who else wanted her out of the way? And what were they planning?
* * *
By the time a nurse let her out, Emily and her boyfriend were gone. Siobhán called the station and dispatched guards to find them. The great thing about having a walled town was there were only a few places to exit. Siobhán had a feeling the little duo wouldn’t get far. She called a taxi and directed it to take her directly to the station. She snuck in, relieved that all the top-tier guards were at the memorial or out looking for their escapees. It would make what she had to do that much easier. She was going around Macdara, and if her hunch was wrong, she’d have to face him—and even if her hunch was right, she would still have to face him, but this had to be done. When you have to lie, stick as close as possible to the truth. She was relieved to find Susan at the counter. “I need to check on a call Macdara had you make to the Dublin guards.”
“Which call?”
Susan knew very well which call. She was stalling. “He had you call the Dublin guards to confirm that Nathan Doyle was a memb
er of AGS. Remember?”
She waited while Susan eyed her, not sure how to process her request. “Why aren’t you getting this directly from D.S. Flannery?”
“If you want to give him a bell, I’ll wait. He’s at the memorial.”
Susan chewed on her lip. “Why doesn’t he just tell you himself?”
“He couldn’t remember the exact quote. We think it might make a difference.”
She sighed again, then thumbed through her notes. She pulled out a piece of paper. “I called the Dublin Guards on Saturday. Spoke to Detective Sergeant Flannery. Here it is.”
Siobhán read the message. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Did you change the wording?”
Susan’s eyebrow went up. “Pardon?”
“Did you write down an exact quote or an approximation?”
Susan pushed her glasses up. “I am always precise with my dictation.” She appeared to be doing her best not to look offended.
Thank God. Siobhán nodded. “Sometimes the tiniest words matter.” She looked at the message again: Yes, Nathan Doyle was a Dublin guard.
Siobhán let out a sigh of relief. It was just as she thought. She had to make sure before she accused the wrong man. “I need you to call Dublin again. Here’s what I need to know.” She jotted it down.
Susan eyed the request, then Siobhán. “It takes forever to get a real person.”
“I know. That’s why you have to start now. Keep calling them. As soon as you get a human being that can talk to us, patch them directly to my mobile.” Siobhán leaned in. “And not a word. To anyone.”
“Including anyone here?”
“Including anyone here.”
“Okay. If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Siobhán was about to leave when she saw a stack of flyers on the desk. The words “bingo” and “fund-raiser” caught her eye. “Are these your missing bingo flyers?”
Susan nodded. “I had to print them up again. Poor trees.”
Siobhán stopped. Stared. Her thought processes locked up like stuck gears. She picked it up. She stared at it. Her pulse quickened. Her heart began tap-dancing. “It can’t be.”
“What can’t?”
“This is the original?”
“Yes.”
“These used to be sitting here? Right here?”
“Yes. Until someone swiped them.”
“I see.” Her body began to pump adrenaline. She wouldn’t need the phone call from Dublin now, although it might help convince Macdara.
“What’s the story?” Susan said. “You don’t like them?”
“I like them,” Siobhán said. She grabbed several and stuck them in her handbag. “One might even say they’re a lifesaver.”
She hurried out as Susan stared at her, confusion stamped on her face.
* * *
Siobhán stopped next at Liam’s hardware store, got what she needed from the befuddled man, then texted Macdara.
Don’t let any of them leave Sharkey’s. Especially Shane Ross.
What? Where are you?
I’m begging you. Keep all of your guards there and keep our suspects there.
Shane has to be allowed to leave.
BEGGING. Keep Shane there!
* * *
Siobhán stopped texting. He would either listen or he wouldn’t. She had no time to waste. She got back to Sharkey’s and hid her purchases on the patio. Luckily, Rory Mack’s truck was still parked in the lot. She removed the ladder and took it back to the patio. She entered Sharkey’s and found Shane Ross pacing, and Nathan Doyle eyeing him from the corner. Macdara was on her right away. “What’s going on?”
“Is Nathan Doyle armed?”
“I would say so. They’re waiting for Shane’s break-in attempt.”
“It won’t be safe to have anyone armed.”
“Why?”
“We need to empty this pub of everyone but guards and our suspects. And no firearms.”
“You’re interfering with an undercover operation?”
Nathan Doyle was making his way toward them. “Please. Dara. There’s no time. Please.”
As Nathan approached, she saw the anxiety swimming in Macdara’s eyes. She’d put him in a horrible position. She had no choice. Please let him trust me.
“I expect Shane will be sneaking out any minute now.” Nathan clapped Macdara on the back.
“I just came from the hospital,” Siobhán said.
“Oh?” Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Are you ill?”
“No, no. There was a car accident. The girl who allegedly planted the cold deck on Eamon Foley was nearly killed today.”
“She’s still here?” Nathan sounded as if this was the first he’d heard of it. Siobhán knew the guests at the wake were whispering about it.
“She was speeding away in Eamon’s car. The brakes failed.”
“Speeding away in his car? She was stealing it?”
“Did you have her on your radar?”
Nathan frowned. “We wanted to speak with her after Friday evening’s fiasco. Is that what you mean?”
“Did you recruit her back in Dublin?” Emily hadn’t pointed the finger at Nathan Doyle, but Siobhán had to be sure.
“Why would I need to recruit a waitress?”
“I thought you’d been casing Shane for a long time.”
“We have.” He was defensive now.
“She’s not in your file?”
“Garda O’Sullivan, you’re obviously chewing on something big. Why don’t you spit it out?”
“Shane Ross met Emily two weeks ago. After one of her shows.” She turned to Nathan. “He told her he was working undercover for the SSU.”
“He told her?” Nathan looked outraged. “I had no idea. I should have known he’d go rogue.”
“Her shows?” Macdara asked.
“She’s a magician’s assistant.”
“Were they dating? Did Shane get her to set Eamon up?” Nathan looked as if he wanted to storm out of the pub and confront Emily in the hospital. “I feel sorry for her.” His eyes swept through the crowd and landed on Shane Ross. “What is he still doing here?”
“I think it’s best that everyone stays,” Siobhán said.
Nathan pointed at her. “There it is again, an insinuation in your voice. Just what have you learned?”
“I’m about to tell you,” Siobhán said. “I’m about to tell everyone.”
Chapter 32
Siobhán stood on the little stage and surveyed their suspects while she waited for the pub to quiet down. Sharkey’s was empty of everyone but the people Siobhán needed to be there. Rose Foley leaned on a table, drink in hand, heels off. Once more, Siobhán felt for the unborn baby. She could only hope the wee thing had a team of angels ready to look after him or her.
Shane Ross and Clementine Hart were huddled together in the back corner of the pub. Shane looking twitchy; Clementine as cool as usual. Rory Mack watched her from behind the counter. Amanda and Henry Moore stood stiffly near the front of the stage. Jeanie Brady was perched on a stool, eyes on Siobhán. Macdara looked the most uneasy, he had no idea what pieces of the puzzle had finally clicked for Siobhán and what she was about to say. Eddie Houlihan peered out from the shadows in the back.
Siobhán cleared her throat. “There are many ways to honor a man’s memory. The best, in my humble opinion, is to find out who killed him.”
“This again?” Rose cried out. “At his memorial? My husband took his own life.” She looked around as if searching for reinforcements.
“Funny. In the very beginning you insisted he didn’t.”
“I was grieving.”
Macdara stepped forward and placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Let her talk.”
Siobhán gave him a nod before continuing. “At first this case seemed too complicated to solve. Starting with, was it even murder? We had a locked room. A supposed suicide note signed by the deceased, and plausible reasons why Eamon Fol
ey would have taken his own life.” She looked around the room. “Unfortunately, many people in this room played a role in what transpired here Friday night and early Saturday morning.” Siobhán pointed. “Let’s start with Clementine Hart.”
Clementine stepped forward. “Me? You’re starting with me?” She tossed her head as if she’d just won a prize. “Is that good or is that bad?”
“You riled up Eamon that evening by spreading the rumor that he wasn’t the father of Rose’s baby.”
“It’s a little more than a rumor,” Clementine said. “Started by none other than Eamon himself.”
“Outrageous!” Rose stormed forward. “Of course, he was the father.”
“That’s not what he told us,” Shane said. “He said the doc told him his swimmers were quitters.”
Rose rubbed her belly. “It’s our miracle baby.”
Clementine pointed at Rose. “You might have convinced Eamon of that, but not us. Drop the pious act.”
Rose blinked rapidly.
Siobhán wasn’t done with Clementine Hart. “You also marred the playing cards.” Clementine stared. “You will all do yourself a favor by telling the absolute truth right here, and right now. The killer will continue to lie of course. And that will be very helpful.”
Clementine sighed and relaxed her posture. “Fine. I marked the cards. Just doodling. Eamon told me I had a black heart, so I found myself scribbling. Shane was running his mouth in the background, so I did his next.”
“Where did you leave the cards?”
“On my table. I don’t know how they ended up in Eamon’s pockets.”
“The killer placed them there. The killer had to improvise when you stirred Eamon up about his paternity.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Eamon Foley was going to die all along. He just wasn’t supposed to die until after he won the tournament, collected a quarter of a million in winnings, and hopped into his orange Mustang.”
The group was on full alert. “The one that crashed?” someone called out.
“Yes. The one whose brake lines had been cut.”
A gasp rippled through Sharkey’s.
“Try proving all that,” Jeanie Brady said.
“I’m going to do just that.” Siobhán found her next suspect in the crowd. “Amanda Moore.”
Murder in an Irish Pub Page 24
