by Laura Durham
I heard voices in the background and the sound of a ringing phone. He must have been at the police precinct, which made sense considering it was the middle of the day back in D.C.
"My best advice is to tell the police everything you know," he said. "The more information they have, the faster they can clear Kate and let you continue with your trip."
"The thing is we don't know that much, so I'm not sure how much help we can be. It's not like back home where we've known the victims and, in some cases, the killers. These people are complete strangers."
"To you, yes," he said. "But not to each other. There has to be a reason the woman was killed. It's not like she fell down a flight of stairs. No one accidentally gets strangled and pushed into a pond. Someone wanted her dead badly enough to kill her in broad daylight."
I rubbed my arms as a chill went through me. "I can't imagine any of those old ladies committing murder."
Reese laughed again. "Just because they look sweet? You know better than that. Some of the most devious killers have been the ones we've least expected."
That was true. I'd learned the hard way not to assume someone was innocent based on how they appeared. I sighed. "I wish you were here."
"Me too, babe, but you know I'm working the romance author murder." He dropped his voice, and I assumed he didn't want the other officers to hear him. "I'd much rather be with you in Ireland than riding around questioning witnesses with Hobbes."
"I thought he was in a better mood since he'd started dating Alexandra." Reese's partner and my favorite wedding cake designer had met when she'd been involved with one of our cases. I found the pairing of the glamorous European baker and the slightly doughy cop to be an odd match-up, but for some reason Alexandra found him charming.
"Oh, he's in a better mood. That's the problem." His voice became muffled, and I suspected he'd put his hand over the receiver. "He's acting like a lovesick puppy. I even caught him doodling her name the other day."
"Really?" Not what I would have expected from a DC detective in his forties. In contrast, Alexandra had been pretty tight-lipped about their relationship. Actually, she hadn't confirmed they were involved, but that wasn't surprising since Alexandra liked to keep an air of mystery around her. It paired well with her exotic accent and come-hither clothing.
"It could be worse," Reese said. "At least he doesn't give me a hard time about dating a woman who was originally a suspect in a murder case."
I drummed my fingers on the arm of the love seat. "This seems to be a recurring theme."
"Tell me about it," he said. "I just don't want to have to visit you or one of your buddies in an Irish prison."
I heard a commotion outside my door. "I promise you I'll try to stay out of trouble from now on."
"Promises, promises," my boyfriend said. "I'll be happy as long as I get you back home in one piece."
"Gotta run." I walked to the door. "I'll talk to you later."
"Love you, babe."
My heart fluttered in my chest. We'd only been saying the words to each other for a few months, and it still gave me a rush to hear it and to know he felt that way about me. "I love you too."
I disconnected as I heard the voices in the hall get louder. Chances were good it was either Fern or Richard pitching a fit about something. I knew I should intervene before one of them ended up in shackles.
I opened the door and stepped out into the hall, swiveling my head in the direction of the commotion.
"Annabelle!" I took me a moment to realize that the deep rumble of a voice belonged to Mack.
I gave a small shake of my head as I spotted him and Buster standing behind a pair of garda. As usual, the two burly men were decked out in black leather adorned with enough metal hardware and chains to make them rattle when they moved. Both men had bald heads and goatees, and Buster wore motorcycle goggles as a headband.
"Mack? Is that you?" I slipped my phone in my pocket and hurried toward them. "I thought you weren't arriving until tomorrow."
The female garda angled her head at me. "You really know these men? They claim they're florists."
"That's right," I said. "They're a part of my wedding team."
She looked at them again and then at me. "Weddings?"
The leather of Buster's leather jacket creaked as he crossed his thick arms over his chest. "That's exactly what the people in customs said."
"I guess they don't get many male florists over here," Mack said.
I knew the general disbelief probably had more to do with the piercing in his eyebrow and the "Road Riders for Jesus" patch on his jacket than the fact that he was a man.
"I'm glad you made it." I pushed past the staring garda and gave them both a hug. "It's been a bit bumpy so far."
Mack cut his eyes to the uniformed officers. "I can see. Don't tell me it's another murder."
The two gardas exchanged a look, and I elbowed Mack. "It's all a big misunderstanding. Kate's being questioned now, but she's innocent."
"I don't know if that's the word I'd use to describe her," Richard said as he came up behind me, nodding to Buster and Mack.
"Remind me not to call any of you as character witnesses if I'm ever on trial," I muttered.
"I couldn't wait in my room another minute," Richard said. "Have they questioned you yet?"
I shook my head. "I assumed they were doing me last. I hope they haven't been with Kate this entire time."
As if on cue, the door to Kate's room opened and the handsome garda stepped out.
Mack inhaled sharply. "That's who was interviewing her?"
"I don't think we need to wonder why she's been in there so long," Richard said in a stage whisper, garnering him a dirty look from the female garda.
"I hope you're satisfied that our friend had nothing to do with the murder," I said as the tall garda approached our group.
Another door flew open, and Fern stepped into the hall with his arms outstretched and his wrists upturned. "Look no further. Lock me up. It's all my fault."
Chapter 13
"Teaching women how to properly knot a scarf does not make your responsible if one of them gets strangled." I told Fern the next morning over breakfast.
We were seated in the Earl of Thomond restaurant surrounded by gilded wallpaper and oil paintings of distinguished looking men. We'd already helped ourselves to the display of breakfast breads and fruits, and I was thrilled to find scones and strawberry jam in abundance. A waiter approached holding two full Irish breakfasts, and I could smell the sizzling sausages as he placed them in front of Buster and Mack.
Fern eyed the hot plates as he picked at a piece of brown bread. "How do I know the murder just wasn't a Carmen Miranda gone wrong?"
"Is that a type of scarf knot?" I whispered to Kate, slathering sticky jam on a piece of scone and taking a bite.
She shrugged over the top of her tea cup. "I mean, let's hope so."
Richard waved a fork with a strawberry on the end of it. "You must be out of your mind. If it was a knot gone wrong, why wasn't the scarf around her neck when we found her?"
Fern looked slightly mollified as he dabbed butter on his bread. "That's what the garda said last night when I tried to turn myself in." He paused in his buttering to blink away tears. "I still can't help thinking my tutorial might have sent someone down the wrong path."
Richard popped the strawberry in his mouth and shook his head as he chewed and swallowed. "Don't be silly. I may have felt homicidal after an hour of your scarf demonstration, but I still didn't murder anyone."
Fern reached over and squeezed his hand. "Aren't you a dear for saying so? That makes me feel better."
I shook my head in amazement and saw Mack grin.
Kate leaned back in her navy striped chair. "I don't know why you're worried. It's still my scarf that was used to kill Colleen, and we aren't any closer to figuring out who took it or why they wanted the little old lady dead."
"I would say that I'm shocked you were in Ireland for less
than forty-eight hours without us and managed to stumble across a dead body, but that would be a lie," Mack said. "And you know I don't believe in lies."
Since Buster and Mack were part of a Christian motorcycle gang, they also didn't believe in cursing, cheating, or drinking.
Buster glanced at me as he cut into a silver dollar sized piece of black pudding. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to solve it before the police."
"Oh, no you don't," Richard said, narrowing his eyes at the burly man. "The last thing Annabelle needs is a reason to start meddling. What we need to do is focus on our mission."
Fern and Kate gave him a blank stare, and Richard let his silverware clatter onto his plate. "To find the perfect wedding venue for our bride."
"I almost forgot about Halsey in the midst of all this murder business." Fern touched a hand to the ivory ascot at his neck, which looked remarkably similar to ones worn in the portraits on the wall. "You don't suppose she'll mind having her wedding in a place a woman was murdered, do you?"
"We aren't going to tell her," I said, making my voice more forceful than usual and looking around the table to catch everyone's eyes. "Right?"
They all nodded, although I could tell from Fern's expression that not spreading a story as juicy as this one would be a challenge.
"This is Ireland," Richard said. "I doubt we could find a castle where someone didn't die at some point in its history."
Now it was Fern's turn to drop his knife onto the table. "You don't think the castle is haunted, do you?"
"Of course not," I said at the same time Kate shrugged.
I shot her a look, which she ignored.
"If you ask me all these really old buildings are probably haunted," Kate said. "Don't you remember the resort we visited in Pennsylvania? And that place wasn't half as old as this one."
Fern pressed his fingertips to his lips. "You're right." He dropped his hand and glanced around as if a ghost was about to leap out of the walls at him. "Maybe supernatural forces killed Colleen."
"Now there's a theory I'd like to see you float to the local Gardaí," Richard said. "As if they don't already think we're a bunch of crazy Americans."
"Speaking of which," Mack inclined his head at a group of women who'd entered the dining room. "I'm assuming they're in the genealogy tour group."
I recognized Betty Belle by her halo of white hair and her red-rimmed eyes. By her side was Nancy with the unnaturally red hair and arm full of shiny bangles that clinked as she moved and the plump woman Betty Belle had referred to as Myrna's lackey. I couldn't remember the nondescript woman's name off the top of my head. All three women wore bright outfits, and Betty Belle's sweatshirt was a flag of Texas.
"What tipped you off?" Richard asked.
"I should go check on Betty Belle." I took a last crumbly bite of scone and stood. "She was Colleen's roommate, not to mention her closest friend on the trip."
The three women were adding sugar to their tea when I walked up, but only Betty Belle smiled when she saw me.
"Good morning, hon," Betty Belle said as she pulled apart a croissant. "I didn't know if we'd see you today after the big to-do last night."
"You mean the scarf?" I tried to keep my voice light.
The redhead's eyes widened. "Was that yours?"
"Don't you remember, Nancy?" Betty Belle said, nodding her head toward Kate. "It belongs to the blonde over there."
"But Kate had nothing to do with what happened to Colleen," I said quickly. "Someone stole her scarf from her during the day."
"Theft and murder." The third woman shook her head and her chin jiggled. "This type of thing has never happened on one of our trips before."
"That's right." I smiled at her. "This isn't your first trip to Ireland."
"Deb's been three times," Nancy said, fingering a chunky crystal hanging around her neck. "The same as me."
"You must love Ireland," I said. "Or just love traveling with Myrna."
"It's a thrill to track down your family roots," Deb said. "And Myrna's created a real community."
"I'm sure you're all distraught about what happened to Colleen," I said, watching their faces.
Betty Belle sniffled into her napkin, but the other two women only nodded.
"This was her first trip with us," Nancy said. "We didn't know her very well yet, but she was still part of our Facebook group family."
Deb buttered a scone as she peered up at me. "You and the jumpy fellow sat with her at dinner the other night, didn't you?"
I looked over my shoulder and saw that she meant Richard, who had indeed popped up from the table and was unfurling his napkin over the seat of his chair. "We did." I faced Betty Belle. "I didn't get to talk to her on the drive here though. You don't happen to know if something happened to upset her, do you?"
The white-haired woman tilted her head at me. "Upset her? Why, I don't think so. We spilt up at Bunratty Castle because I wanted to keep shopping and she wanted to return to the minibus, but she never mentioned anything. Why?"
"She said she wanted to talk to me after we arrived here. She didn't say what it was about, but she didn't show up where we'd agreed to meet, and the next time I saw her, she was dead."
"How awful." Betty Belle put a thickly veined hand to her cheek. "I can't imagine why she wanted to talk to you."
"Didn't she have a granddaughter getting married?" Deb asked the other two women. "Could it have been about that?"
Nancy twitched her shoulders up and down. "I didn't know her enough to know about her family."
"I don't remember her talking about a wedding," Betty Belle said. "But that could have been it. She does have a granddaughter."
I hadn't gotten the feeling she wanted to talk to me about wedding planning, but I didn't want to argue with the ladies.
Deb glanced down at her watch. "We'd better go if we want to make it to archery on time."
Betty Belle sighed as she pushed back her chair. "It feels wrong to be going along with the trip as if nothing happened."
"Now, honey," Nancy said, taking Betty Belle's hand as her bangles jangled around her wrist. "Colleen wouldn't have wanted you to spend the whole trip crying your eyes out."
Betty Belle dropped her purse then slowly bent to retrieve it, shuffling around the table and patting my arm. "I hope we'll see you later."
"The Gardaí haven't given us the okay to leave yet, so we'll be here," I told her.
The women left the dining room, and I glanced at their barely eaten breakfast. A flash of white on the floor next to Betty Belle's chair caught my eye. I walked closer and recognized the room key folder. She'd dropped her key. I picked it up and turned to chase after her, then stopped myself.
Betty Belle's room was also Colleen's room. There was a good chance Colleen's luggage was still in the room, as well as her carry-on and purse since they weren't with her when she was found. I knew it was a long shot that any of those items held a clue to her murder, but I felt an overwhelming desire to make sure. I knew what Reese would say, and I knew what Richard would say, but what I wanted most was to clear Kate and get back to our hunt for wedding venues. A quick peek at Colleen's belongings might help me do just that.
I looked over my shoulder at Richard as I slipped the key into my pocket. No way would he go along with sneaking into a hotel room. My eyes fell on Kate. Now she was another matter, especially if we could find something to clear her. She'd also gone along with some of my less-than-legal schemes in the past, so this wouldn't shock her.
Even if I got Kate on board, we'd need some way to distract Richard. It didn't take me more than a minute to settle on Fern. If anyone was born to create a distraction, it was him. I waited until Richard got up to go to the buffet before walking back to the breakfast table. Buster and Mack were debating soda bread versus scones, so they didn't pay much attention to me.
I leaned over Kate and whispered in her ear. "As soon as I give you the signal, you need to sneak out of here with me."
She ga
ve a single nod, and I moved behind Fern. "When Richard comes back," I said low enough so only he could hear, "I need you to create a distraction so Kate and I can slip out."
He sat up straighter but didn't turn to face me. "Say no more, sweetie."
I took my seat and resumed sipping my now lukewarm tea. Richard took his seat next to me with another bowl of fruit.
"Well, would you believe it?" Fern jumped up and knocked his chair over and into Richard, which sent the fruit bowl into Richard's lap. "It's Derek and Grace."
Richard stood and chunks of fruit rolled off his pants and onto the floor. "My Burberry chinos!"
I pulled Kate to her feet and backed her away while Richard spluttered and Fern shrieked, running across the dining room toward a young couple. When we were out of the restaurant and halfway down the hall, I glanced behind us.
"No one can sell a story like Fern. Was he pretending to see the couple from the plane?"
"I don't think he was pretending, Annabelle," Kate said as she tried to keep up in her high-heeled boots. "Unless that husband and wife both have identical twins running around the country, that was the couple from the plane."
Chapter 14
I glanced at the room number on the paper folder, grateful Betty Belle hadn't removed the key from it, and pulled Kate down the hallway after me. "What are the chances the same couple from the plane is staying here?"
"Pretty good since Fern gave them our itinerary," Kate reminded me.
My steps were quiet on the plush burgundy carpet, making the corridor seem even emptier. "Why would a couple come on their honeymoon without everything all planned out?"
Kate bobbled her head. "Maybe the groom was in charge of planning it and dropped the ball, or maybe they wanted to go where the wind took them."
I made a face. As a professional planner, I didn't understand the concept of winging it.
"Forget the couple for a moment." Kate grabbed my arm when I stopped in front of the correct room. "What are we doing?"
I realized that in the hurry to get out of the dining room without Richard noticing and the shock in realizing that Fern's distraction might not have been fabricated after all, I'd forgotten to explain my plan to Kate. I waved the key card at her. "Betty Belle dropped her room key."
