Irish Aisle are Smiling

by Laura Durham

  The redhead smiled at her. "Don't even think twice about it. I know you and Colleen hit it off when you finally met in person. It's a shock for all of us."

  "You were roommates?" I asked Betty Belle.

  She nodded, dabbing at her eyes. "We got to know each other through the Facebook group and ended up messaging each other and swapping recipes. Colleen was the one who convinced me to come on the trip. It made sense for us to room together." Her voice broke. "We thought it would be fun."

  Richard walked up and jerked his head to one side, indicating I should join him. I gave Betty Belle's leg a final pat as I surrendered my seat to Nancy and joined him next to the tufted leather couch by the front door.

  He handed me a teacup edged with delicate flowers. "This will help you warm up, darling. You look like you're freezing."

  I gratefully wrapped my hands around the warmth of the cup and took a sip of the hot tea. "Thank you. Where did you get it?"

  He flicked his eyes behind me. "I might have poached it from afternoon tea. If we have to wait any longer, I'm going back for tea sandwiches and pastries."

  "How much longer do you think we'll be here?" I asked, scanning the ladies clustered on chairs and loveseats, all in various stages of weeping.

  "Not long, I hope. It can't be good for business to have all this sobbing in the lobby."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "Be nice. They've just lost their friend. I'm sure the police will question us soon and then release us."

  "Gardaí," Richard corrected me. "The Irish call their police the Gardaí, remember? And I'm not sure it will be the friendly experience we're used to with law enforcement since none of us are dating an officer."

  "Give it time," I said as I spotted Kate walking through the main doors beside a tall man in a dark blue uniform. His hair was light brown and he had a square jaw with either a well-trimmed beard or several days of stubble. Even as a taken woman, I couldn't help looking twice at him.

  "So much for this going quickly," Richard mumbled. "We'll be lucky if Kate agrees to leave the country with us."

  I started to tell him he was being silly, but I saw the way she looked at the man and thought better of it. I caught her eye and waved her over.

  "Where have you been?" I asked when she stepped away from the garda.

  She let out a breathy sigh. "Just giving a statement to Connor Ryan."

  "You're on a first name basis?" Richard shook his head. "What kind of statement did you give him? A profession of your love and devotion or perhaps your room number?"

  Kate jabbed him with her elbow. "I'll have you know he's been perfectly professional." She frowned. "It's a bit frustrating."

  "I can imagine," Richard said. "I don't suppose you learned anything about the poor dead woman in the midst of all the eyelash batting?"

  Before Kate could answer, the good-looking garda approached us, extending a hand and making eye contact. "Garda Ryan. You two also found the body, eh?"

  Richard and I both shook his hand, and I felt myself blush as he held my gaze with his very blue eyes. I heard Richard clear his throat and looked over to see his cheeks also flushed. The garda didn't seem to notice his effect as he took out a notebook and flipped it open.

  The familiar action made me think about Reese. A part of me wished he was here and another part was glad he wasn't witnessing us being involved in yet another investigation. My only consolation was that no one in the DC wedding industry would hear about this. It wasn't good for business to have such a high body count at our weddings, and I'd as soon keep this latest one--although technically not associated with one of our weddings--quiet.

  The garda shifted his eyes to me. "Your business partner has given me a rundown of the timeline, but I'd like you to tell me in your own words."

  My head snapped to Kate when he mentioned "business partner," but I didn't comment on it. She was too enamored with the cute officer to notice my surprise anyway.

  "There's not much to tell," I said. "We were walking in the walled garden. We'd only been there a few minutes."

  "Can't you get all this from the security cameras?" Richard asked.

  "There are no cameras in the gardens," Garda Ryan said, then turned his attention back to me. "Did you see anyone else in the garden when you arrived?"

  I thought for a moment. "Not that I remember. No one in view at least."

  "And you didn't see the deceased immediately?"

  I shook my head. "We walked over the bridge without looking down." I looked at Richard. "My friend and I walked ahead a bit, to the short flight of stone steps at the end of the path, then our other friend Fern came to get us and we walked back to the bridge. It was only when I went to the middle of the bridge and looked over that I saw her. Actually, it was her green fanny pack that caught my eye."

  Garda Ryan jotted a few words in his notebook before looking up. "You didn't touch the body?"

  I shivered and shook my head. "We didn't get closer than looking over the bridge. It was obvious even from there that she was dead."

  "How so?" he asked.

  I rubbed my arms again as I recalled the look of open-mouthed shock on the dead woman's face. "Her eyes were wide and her skin already looked blue."

  "This isn't our first dead body, Garda Ryan," Kate said.

  He stared at the three of us while I groaned inwardly. So much for us keeping our past involvements in investigations under wraps. "You don't say?"

  "We've had a few incidents at our weddings," I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Nothing that has to do with this though."

  He wrote more in his notebook. "Did you recognize her right away?"

  I tried to push the image of her wide unblinking eyes out of my mind. "Yes. We'd met yesterday and had dinner together, so I knew who she was."

  "Yesterday was the first time you'd met her?" His eyes moved from me to Richard.

  "We might have arrived in the same bus, but we're not with their group," Richard said. "We just happened to meet yesterday when we were all at Adare Manor."

  The garda angled his head. "And you decided to share a van?"

  "It's a bit more complicated that that," I said. "We had a rental car, but it was involved in an accident."

  He nodded his head as if that explained everything. "We have quite a few accidents involving American tourists each year."

  Richard drew himself up to his full height. "I'll have you know that this American did not get in an accident. We were hit by another car when we were parked."

  "Our car might have been sticking out into the street," I admitted.

  Kate crossed her arms and gave me a look. "Are you suggesting that my parking was the reason some maniac crashed into us?"

  Garda Ryan raised an eyebrow, and I felt like I'd seen the same look of amusement on Reese's face before.

  "That's how we ended up sharing a ride with the genealogy tour group," I said, giving both Kate and Richard a warning look. "They were heading to Dromoland and so were we, and they were kind enough to offer us a ride."

  "So you three aren't here on a genealogy trip?"

  Kate touched a hand to his arm. "We're wedding planners. We're here to find the perfect venue for a wedding." She smiled up at him. "Not mine, of course."

  Richard groaned while the garda nodded and made another note in his pad.

  "The gentleman with the ponytail is also with us." I pointed to Fern, who still sat next to Betty Belle. It appeared that he'd moved from comforting her to touching up her makeup.

  "So you didn't know any of the other women before yesterday even though you're all Americans?"

  "No," I told him. "We're from DC and they came from all over the country."

  Kate leaned into him. "It's a big country, you know."

  Another garda--this one a petite woman with blonde hair tucked up under her hat--stepped inside and walked over to us. Her eyes dropped to Kate's hand on her colleague's arm and then to him. "You need help with the questioning?"

  He
gave a curt shake of his head. "Almost done here. Why don't you start with the ladies over there?"

  "The one with the white hair was her roommate," I said. "Her name is Betty Belle."

  Garda Ryan nodded his head at me. "That's helpful. She might have a better idea who would want to harm the victim."

  The female officer headed for Betty Belle, and Garda Ryan flipped his notebook closed.

  "Wait a second," I said. "Did you say who would want to harm the victim?"

  Richard put a hand over his eyes and groaned. "Please say it isn't so."

  "This wasn't an accident?" I asked, trying to keep my voice down as I saw Fern look over. "We assumed Colleen slipped and fell into the pond."

  Kate dropped her hand from the officer's arm. "She didn't hit her head on a rock and drown?"

  His handsome face twisted for a moment. "I suppose you'll know soon enough that this is a homicide investigation. You probably couldn't see from above, but the victim had ligature marks on her neck."

  Richard raised a hand to his own throat. "So she was . . .?"

  "Strangled?" Fern cried, stepping from behind the garda, his word piercing the quiet of the lobby and making everyone gasp.

  Chapter 10

  "So much for keeping the fact that Colleen was murdered a secret," I said as I flopped face up across the king-size bed. Even though it was already early evening, light poured in from the window overlooking the lake. It felt odd to have the sun setting at almost nine o'clock at night, although I'd heard it would set even later during the summer months.

  Richard followed me and perched on the upholstered bench at the end of the bed. "Discretion is not in Fern's wheelhouse."

  "True." Fern's stylish Georgetown hair salon was known as the place to go for precision haircuts and juicy gossip. Some of it Fern acquired from his high profile clients and some he made up himself. If you wanted a secret kept, you did not tell Fern.

  Since I'd done little more than drop off my suitcase when we'd first arrived, I rolled over on the bed and took in the room. Unlike Adare Manor, the rooms at Dromoland had a distinctly modern design with the four poster bed made out of an ash-colored wood and topped with unadorned round finials. Soft gray drapes hung at the window and a gray-and-white-plaid carpet covered the floor. A gray velour love seat held mustard-yellow throw pillows while a pair of matching armless chairs sat in a raised alcove that housed another window.

  "I can't believe we didn't catch that." I let my cheek sink back onto the soft duvet.

  "Catch what?"

  I didn't lift my head. "The marks on her neck. We've seen enough dead bodies to notice something like that. Unless they were so fresh when we found her that they hadn't become bruises yet."

  Richard shuddered. "Living with a detective has made you quite gruesome, darling. Anyway, we didn't get close enough to spot bruises, and if I remember correctly, the old dear had on a mock turtleneck."

  "Good eyes. I'd forgotten that." I raised myself onto one elbow.

  "I only remember because I thought to myself that I hadn't seen one of those since the 90s." He shook his head. "I only hope when I go that I'm better dressed."

  "If I find you dead in a mock turtleneck, I'll know there was foul play involved," I said.

  "Indeed you will. If you find me in anything off the rack, I expect you to demand a full investigation."

  I grinned, despite the macabre topic and rolled over to stare up at the smooth white ceiling. "So either the marks were hidden or they were new."

  "Or both. She couldn't have been out there too long," Richard said, crossing his legs at the knee and pumping one foot up and down. "If I remember correctly, you barely gave us time to breathe before dragging us out to walk the property."

  "I wanted to scout out the garden while there was good light," I said as I thought back to the timing of the afternoon. "Colleen must have gone straight to the garden to have made it there in enough time to get strangled and dumped in the pond before we arrived."

  Richard stopped bobbing his foot and stood up. "Oh no. I know what's happening here."

  "What?" I rolled my head over to watch as his foot bobbing became foot tapping, the pace equally impatient.

  Richard leveled a finger at me. "Might I remind you we're here to scout out wedding venues, not get embroiled in another murder investigation?"

  "You don't think I wanted us to find a body, do you? It's not like I planned this, Richard, but like it or not, we are involved."

  He threw his arms in the air. "This is like that law of attraction stuff. You're a murder magnet."

  I thought those were bold words considering he'd recently been suspect number one in a murder investigation. "This is nothing more than a coincidence."

  "You think it's a coincidence that a perfectly normal old lady gets knocked off the day after she meets us?" Richard asked, his voice more high-pitched than usual.

  "How could we have anything to do with it?" I argued. "We only met the tour group yesterday, and it was only by chance we ended up riding with them."

  "Was it though?" Richard paced a small circle at the foot of the bed. "What if this was all a setup to get us to find her? Wasn't she supposed to go on the walk with us?"

  "Yes," I admitted, "but that might have been a coincidence. Colleen was the one who wanted to talk with me, so I invited her to join our walk. I hardly think she'd set us up for her own murder. Why would anyone want to set us up anyway?"

  He stopped short. "Well, if I knew that then I'd probably know who was behind it, wouldn't I?"

  "I think you're getting worked up over nothing," I said. "Aside from finding the body, we have nothing to do with it. We barely knew her and we certainly don't know why anyone would want to strangle her. I promise you, I have no intention of getting sucked into another murder case." I sat up. "As a matter of fact, I should probably take photos of the rooms before we mess them up too much. Our bride will want photos of the rooms her guests would be staying in."

  "We just discovered a dead body outside a castle," Richard said. "How can you think about work?"

  "I thought you didn't want to get embroiled in the murder case." I scooted to the edge of the bed. "So let's focus on the wedding. As sad as I am about Colleen, you know our bride won't consider a murder any reason for us not to do our job."

  "Isn't that the truth?" Richard grumbled. "Maybe if one of us had died it would be a different story."

  "Maybe," I said. "And that's a big maybe."

  Richard looked at me, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a grin. "Can you think of any reason a bride would find compelling enough to put her wedding on the back burner?"

  I tapped my chin. "Aside from World War III, nothing springs to mind. We've had category four hurricanes, code orange terror levels, and dead bodies not stop them."

  "We really should get hazard pay." Richard started laughing, and I joined him. Somehow laughing about our clients' crazy demands felt therapeutic.

  "At least we're in it together," I said, once again feeling grateful for my team and for the fact that I hadn't been alone when I'd spied Colleen floating in the water.

  "Is that another way of saying misery loves company?" Richard winked at me, crossed to the desk, and flipped open a leather folder. "I don't think I can bear going down to the dining room tonight. How do you feel about ordering room service?"

  I let out a breath. "That sounds perfect. I know the genealogy tour group was scheduled to eat in the fancy restaurant. Do you think they'll cancel?"

  Richard shrugged. "Myrna doesn't seem like the type to change her plans, but I can't imagine that would be a fun meal."

  I hopped off the bed and crossed to the desk, leaning over Richard to read the menu. "Chocolate and Bailey's mousse. Double yum."

  "That's dessert, darling. You can't just get dessert."

  "Well, I don't think I can stomach anything heavy." I ran my finger down the list of entrees then flipped back one page. "Maybe a bowl of the Atlantic Way seafood chowder. And t
he mousse."

  "The sirloin in red win jus looks delicious."

  "Didn't you have steak last night?" I asked. "Are you planning on eating anything traditionally Irish while we're here?"

  Richard hooked a hand on his hip. "You mean like potatoes? The steak comes with chips."

  I gave him what I hoped was a withering look. "Steak and fries is not Irish. What about the lamb stew or bangers and mash?"

  He looked down his nose at me. "Do I really strike you as a 'bangers and mash' person?" He gave a brusque shake of his head. "I do not like my food to have that many verbs."

  I blew out a breath. "Fine." I dug my phone out of my purse. "I'm going to text Kate and Fern and tell them we're staying in for dinner."

  "Knowing how close Fern is with the old ladies, he's probably siting at the head of their table or planning Colleen's wake."

  I shuddered to think what kind of wake Fern would come up with. "Let's hope for Colleen's sake, he's not." I fired off a pair of texts then took a few quick shots of the room, pulling my rolling suitcase out of the way and smoothing the white duvet where I'd been lying.

  I glanced down at the text that popped up on my phone. "Kate's on her way and she wants us to order her the Irish salmon. No word from Fern."

  "I told you," Richard muttered. "He's jumped ship and is with the sweatpants brigade."

  "Be nice. I've been known to wear sweats."

  He gave me a look that told me exactly what he thought of my wardrobe choices. "You know Karl Lagerford said that wearing sweatpants was giving up."

  Some people quoted Shakespeare. Richard quoted fashion designers.

  "Yeah, well, your snooty designer buddy left all his money to a cat," I said. "If that isn't a sweatpants move, I don't know what is."

  Richard inhaled sharply, but before he could zing one back to me, Kate flounced into my room wrapped up in a fluffy white robe. I made a mental note to make sure future hotels did not make more than one copy of my room key.

  "You're dressed," she said, giving me the once over. "I thought for sure you'd be neck deep in a bubble bath."