by Laura Durham
Before Kate could answer, we heard screams coming from across the lawn. I squinted to see through the rain as a figure in bright yellow ran toward us.
"Is that a construction worker?" Buster asked, his voice a low rumble over the pounding rain.
"Not even close," I said as I watched the person flail his arms. "It's Fern."
We stepped back as he reached the gazebo and ran under the dome, flipping back his hood and sucking in breath. Now that he was close, I could see that he wore the kind of rain pants that hooked over your shoulders with suspenders and a jacket that reached mid-thigh. He would have looked at home with the crew of Deadliest Catch.
"What on earth?" Richard asked, hanging up and joining us as we gathered around Fern.
"Had to come tell you," Fern gasped. "Couldn't wait."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Did your boat capsize?" Richard muttered.
Fern shot him a look as he shook his head and raindrops flew off his jacket. "Colleen's things are missing."
Chapter 16
"Someone stole a dead woman's luggage?" Buster asked, shaking his head.
"Doesn't the hotel have it?" I asked. "I thought they'd retrieved it so it could be shipped back to her family."
Fern angled his head at me. "Where did you hear that?"
I exchanged a glance with Kate. I knew enough about law enforcement--no matter which side of the world it was on--to know if we revealed we'd been in the room when the luggage was taken, we'd catapult ourselves higher up the suspect list. Or get ourselves arrested. "I thought I heard something. Maybe I was wrong."
The rain blew in from the side of the open-air gazebo and stung my face. I pulled my arms around myself and shivered as thunder rumbled in the distance. When I'd imagined rain in Ireland, I hadn't envisioned it being such a cold, ominous downpour. The sky was the color of slate as sheets of rain lashed the dark gray castle, the turrets barely visible in the distance. I eyed Fern's full-body rain gear with longing.
"Who said it was stolen?" Kate asked, her voice raised over the pounding rain.
Fern stepped further under the gazebo until we all stood in the very center facing each other. "Betty Belle noticed the luggage was missing when she went back to her room after archery."
I held my breath to see if Fern would make the connection to seeing us hiding in the window of a room at the same time Colleen's luggage was taken. "And no one saw anything suspicious?"
I ignored the pointed look Richard shot me.
"Not a thing," Fern said. "The hotel swears up and down they didn't send a bellman to get it, and the Gardaí say they didn't confiscate it."
I bit the edge of my lip. "The Gardaí are involved already?"
Kate smiled and touched a hand to her hair. "They're here?"
Fern nodded. "The hotel called them. I think the staff is afraid of being blamed for losing the dead woman's belongings as well as being the place she was murdered."
I glanced across the lawn leading to the castle, hoping I wouldn't see officers heading our way. I didn't trust Kate not to cave under questioning from the cute garda.
"I'm starting to have second thoughts about this place for the wedding," Mack said.
"Do you think it's haunted too?" Fern asked.
Richard let out an exasperated breath. "Not this again."
Fern pulled himself up to his full height. "Plenty of castles over here are haunted. It's common knowledge. I'm not saying the spirits at Dromoland are evil, but they may like to cause trouble by moving things around."
"I hope you're not suggesting that a ghost stole Colleen's luggage," Richard said.
Fern twitched one shoulder. "I don't think we should discount it as a possibility."
Richard muttered something to himself, and I was glad the storm was loud enough to drown him out. I doubted Fern would have come out on the winning end of his comments.
"Even if the castle has some friendly spirits hanging around, I doubt they could move a suitcase," I said.
Fern drummed his fingers across his lips. "Annabelle's right. It's rare for a spirit to take a corporeal form solid enough to move matter."
"And why would a ghost want to take Colleen's luggage?" I asked. "It doesn't make any sense."
Fern's shoulders sagged. "I suppose you're right."
"Why would anyone want to take the dead woman's luggage?" Mack asked. I could tell from his expression he was glad we were off the topic of ghosts and spirits.
"It has to be the person who killed her," I said, rubbing my hands briskly over my arms to warm them up. "They must think the bags contain some sort of evidence."
Kate stared at me, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. If the killer was the person who took the bags, then we'd been inches away from them. I could have kicked myself for not getting a look before they left the room.
"It has to be someone in the tour group," Kate said. "No one else knew Colleen, and she didn't seem like to type to inspire a crime of passion."
Fern sucked in air. "You think one of those sweet old ladies killed her?"
"Just because they're old doesn't mean they're sweet," Buster said.
Mack bobbed his head in agreement. "We've done the decor for lots of Colonial Dames luncheons, and I've seen them rip people to bits over creases in tablecloths."
Kate nudged me. "Remember that grandmother who body checked the mother of the bride to get a better view of the processional? And how many grabby grandpas have we had to fend off?"
"I think we can all agree old age doesn't make a person necessarily nicer," I said. "None of the women in the genealogy tour seem capable of murder to me, but I don't know them very well either."
"I, for one, do not want to know them well," Richard said. "We need to focus on getting out of here and away from all the crazies. We still have castles to visit and a flight from Dublin in a few days. That means no more theorizing about suspects or meddling in the murder investigation."
I knew his statement was directed almost solely at me. "Fine. Let's just hope the Gardaí see their way to let us leave."
Fern stepped to the edge of the gazebo and stretched out his arm. "At least the rain is slowing down. I thought we might be stuck out here all day. Well, I thought you all might be stuck out here all day, since I'm the only one dressed for the weather."
The clouds above the castle had parted and slivers of blue peeked through the clouds. Even though the rain hadn't stopped, the drops were slowing.
"I'm going to make a dash for it," I said, placing the Dromoland sales folder over my head. "I still need to send Halsey the latest photos and check emails."
"You might need to wait on that," Fern said as we set out across the lawn. "The police are going room to room looking for the missing luggage. Everyone's waiting in the lobby to be cleared to return to their room."
"Just what I need." Richard lifted his feet high in the wet grass. "People pawing through my clothes with no awareness of how to handle expensive fabrics."
"You don't think they'll go through all our things, do you?" Kate asked, making me wonder what exactly she'd packed that made her look so nervous.
"Consider yourself lucky," Richard cast a glance at Buster and Mack. "It's hard to manhandle leather."
Mack touched the "Ride Hard Die Saved" patch on the front of his black jacket, and I got the feeling he didn't agree with Richard's assessment.
"If they're looking for the missing bags, I'm sure they'll be looking for someone who stashed those away. I doubt they want to search our drawers." I felt my feet sink into the soggy ground and hoped my black flats weren't going to be ruined. In an effort to pack light, I'd only brought two pairs of shoes, a move I currently regretted.
We reached the side of the castle, and I felt grateful to be off the wet grass. I tried to scrape the dirt and mud off my shoes as we walked up the steps to the front entrance, stopping at the wide front door and hesitating when I saw the crowded lobby. It looked like every chair, love seat, and
spot along the wall was taken by a disgruntled-looking guest.
"This may have been a mistake," Richard whispered to me as all eyes swiveled to us.
I recognized the tall handsome garda as he approached with the blond female garda close behind wearing a triumphant look on her face. "Garda Ryan. Nice to see you again."
He didn't return my smile. Instead he held out a latex-gloved hand and the green shamrock luggage tag resting in his palm. "Do you recognize this?"
"Isn't it the luggage tags for the genealogy tour group?" I asked.
He flicked his eyes to me. "I wasn't asking you. I was asking Kate."
"Me?" Kate's mouth dropped open. "Why?"
The garda turned it over to reveal the name written on the other side. "Because it belonged to the deceased and it was found on the floor of your room."
"What?" Kate blinked at it a few times. "Why would it be in my room?"
Garda Ryan stared at her until her mouth dropped open.
"Wait, you think I took Colleen's luggage?" she asked. "Why would I do that?"
The blond garda folded her arms across her chest and grinned. I put a hand on Kate's arm so she wouldn't say anything that might make her look bad.
"If you think Kate dragged some other lady's luggage around, then you don't know her very well," Richard said. "She doesn't even move her own luggage."
"That's right," Fern said, leaning close to the green tag sitting in the garda's palm. "Although I wouldn't blame her for ripping that luggage tag off. Is that plastic?"
"Thanks," I whispered to both of them. "Very helpful."
"I do what I can," Richard said.
"Why were you searching her room?" I asked. "Did you have a warrant?"
I wasn't sure how searches and warrants worked in Ireland, but Garda Ryan didn't seem bothered by my questions.
"Kate is a suspect because of her connection to the murder weapon," he said. "It was a natural step to search her room in case she was also involved in the latest crime."
Buster stepped forward, looming over the garda even though the Irishman wasn't short. "Kate didn't commit any crime."
"That's right," Mack added, stepping up to flank Kate. "Our friend may break her share of hearts, but she would never kill anyone or steal their luggage."
Kate sniffled. "Thanks, guys."
"Where exactly did you find this luggage tag anyway?" I asked.
Before Garda Ryan could answer, the blonde behind him said, "On the floor."
"Near the door?" I asked.
"No," she said, looking smug. "A few feet inside."
Garda Ryan turned and shot daggers at her, and the woman's triumphant look faded.
"Thank you," I said to her, giving her my sweetest smile. "That's very helpful."
"Would you like to give us a statement?" The garda said when he turned back around and focused on Kate.
I shook my head. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"That's right." Fern hooked his arm through hers. "My client needs to confer with counsel before speaking with you."
Both officers looked confused as Fern turned and pulled Kate away. Fern looked back at me and lowered his voice. "I knew I should have packed my barrister wig."
Chapter 17
"Obviously she's being framed," I said, cupping my hand over the bottom of my cell phone as I pushed open the door to my room, noticing the maid's cart a few doors down and hearing the hum of a distant vacuum cleaner. Fern was off calming Kate down while I had agreed to put in a call to "counsel."
"I tend to believe you," my boyfriend said from the other end of the line, "but that's only because I know Kate, and I know she's only a predator when it comes to dating."
"Exactly," I said, not sure if that was completely flattering to Kate but deciding not to debate the point.
I flopped onto the loveseat at the end of the bed and kicked off my black flats.
"Tell me again about the luggage tag," Reese asked.
"All the women on the tour have them attached to their luggage. I'm assuming so they can find their bags more easily or it's part of their trip swag." I shivered in my still-damp clothes. "They're green pleather and shaped like shamrocks and have the name of their genealogy Facebook group on one side."
"So not something you could pick up anywhere?" Reese asked.
"Not really. I haven't asked, but I assumed they got them before they left the U.S."
"That would make sense."
I heard the sound of a door opening on his end and then a bottle being opened. "Are you at home?"
"I just got in from pulling a double shift." He swallowed. "I'm beat."
"Are you drinking a beer?" I asked, doing a quick time zone calculation in my head. "Isn't it morning there?"
"Sure is. I have big plans to finish this beer and sleep the rest of the day."
"Do you want me to let you go?" I asked. "If you're too tired to talk . . ."
"Babe," he cut me off, "I'm never too tired for you. Let's go over this again. Did the officer say where they found it in Kate's room?"
"No, just that it was on the floor." I rubbed my palm over my forehead. "The person who stole Colleen's luggage must have managed to sneak into Kate's room afterward and plant the tag."
"How do you know the tag was on the victim's luggage when it was taken? It could have been taken off at an earlier point."
"Because I saw it on both of her bags right before they went missing," I said before thinking better of it.
"I thought you said the bags disappeared from the victim's room."
Crap. Sometimes I forgot that my boyfriend was paid to notice inconsistencies in witness statements.
"Annabelle?" He voice was serious. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing important," I said. "At least nothing that relates to the murder."
Another long swallow. "Why am I having a hard time believing you?"
"Because you're a naturally suspicious person who deals with criminals on a daily basis," I suggested.
"Or because I know you can't stop yourself from trying to fix any problem, and you consider this murder case a problem."
I didn't know whether I should be flattered he knew me so well or annoyed that he had me pegged. I waited a few beats, but he didn't say anything. Reese was also a pro at interrogation, and he could always wait me out. I knew I wouldn't be doing myself any favors by confessing my latest misdeed, but I also hated the idea of keeping things from him. Not like my lack of control when it came to solving crimes would come as a surprise to him.
"Fine," I said with a loud exhalation. "Kate and I popped into Betty Belle and Colleen's room. We were about to look through Colleen's bags when someone startled us."
Another long pause. "How did you get into the room?"
"A key," I said, not volunteering any more than that.
"I'm assuming you weren't given the key, but I'm going to put in a pin in that for now. What happened when someone came in on you searching the bags?"
"We hid so they didn't see us. Unfortunately, we also didn't see them when they left with the bags."
Reese sighed. "I'm going to take a wild guess that you haven't shared this with the Irish police?"
"It doesn't make us look very good," I said.
"It makes you look a little crazy." I could hear the irritation in his voice. "Hold on. Someone won't stop knocking on the door."
Before I could advise him to turn off all the lights and hide under the bed, I heard the distinctive sound of Leatrice's voice accompanied by dog barks. Too late.
"Do you need to go?" I asked, not eager to be lectured by my boyfriend on meddling in an investigation.
"Don't even dream of hanging up on me," he said, his voice low and muffled. "We definitely aren't done."
I looked over to the alarm clock on the bedside table. I needed to get back to my friends soon.
"Annabelle, dear," Leatrice said through the phone. "Is that you?"
"It's me," I said, trying to sound upbeat. "
How are things over there?"
"Well, I think I may have figured out how some of the spies in our area are passing messages."
Leatrice considered herself a one woman neighborhood watch and amateur secret agent all rolled into one.
"Really? When you say "our area" do you mean Georgetown or greater Washington DC?"
"Georgetown," Leatrice whispered. "You know this area has the highest concentration of sleeper spies of any place on the planet, don't you?"
I wasn't sure how she'd verified her information, but I decided not to ask.
"I think they're doing it with dog poo," she said.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You know the plastic bags of poo people sometimes leave on the sidewalk or drop into trash cans? I think those are actually decoys. What better way to pass messages that no one else will intercept?"
I closed my eyes. "Please tell me you aren't gathering other people's dog poo."
"Not yet," she said.
"I thought the wedding planning would keep you too busy to worry about all that spy stuff anymore." Hoped was probably more like it.
"The wedding planning has been put on hold until you all come back home," she said. "Isn't that right, love muffin?"
I guessed that meant Sidney Allen was with her, which meant Leatrice, her fiancé, and Richard's dog were all in the apartment with Reese. I stifled a laugh.
"Just because we're gone doesn't mean you can take a break, " I said. "Especially if you want a short engagement. You should be looking for your dress and finalizing your guest list and bridal party, if you intend to have one."
Hermes yipped in the background. "I had no idea. Fern didn't give me a timeline."
"He's not big on them. He's more of a big ideas person," I said. "Speaking of big ideas, I convinced him to drop the murder mystery theme. Sidney Allen does not have to spend his wedding day pretending to be a corpse."
Leatrice gave a little whoop. "Thank you, dear. Fern doesn't hate me, does he?"
