Irish Aisle are Smiling

by Laura Durham

  "A lot of people come here to see the train," I said. "It's not unusual to want to see them. Maybe she had the same thought we did and wanted to take a peek before they started to get ready for dinner service."

  Deb nodded. "Nancy was more independent than most of us. If anyone would have decided to see the train on her own, it would be her."

  "Did anyone else from your group leave during tea or come late?" I asked.

  "I don't know," Deb said. "We were at different tables, and I wasn't keeping an eye on what everyone was doing. I do know that not everyone was seated at the same time."

  "Because some women were in the bathroom?" I asked.

  More nodding from Deb. "Are you sure she's going to be okay?"

  "That's what the paramedics said. They're taking her to the hospital though." I watched the woman bite the edge of her thumbnail.

  "Why don't you go with her?" Myrna said to Deb.

  Deb nodded and hurried off toward where the other women were falling in step behind Nancy as she was being wheeled to the ambulance in the parking lot.

  "I don't know about you," Fern said, "but I'm ready to go."

  "Yes, please." Richard shifted his bag on his shoulder. "As pretty as it is, I think I can safely mark Glenlo Abbey off the potential wedding venue short list."

  "You're only saying that because we found Nancy nearly dead in the train car," I said.

  Fern shuddered. "If we eliminate every venue where we stumble onto bodies, we may not have many options."

  "I hope that's not true," I said. "We still have half a dozen venues to check out."

  Fern made a face. "We're going to run out of old ladies."

  Mack looked horrified, and I patted his thick forearm. "He's not being serious."

  Kate looked down at her phone. "It's time to meet back at the bus anyway. I can't wait to get back to my room at the castle and take a hot shower. I'm beat."

  "I don't know why you're tired," Richard muttered. "You were eating scones while we were finding the body."

  My stomach rumbled at the thought of a scone. So much for having tea after touring the property. I'd been so distracted by finding Nancy and the arrival of the paramedics, I'd forgotten that it was dinnertime.

  "I thought we were going to stop at The Cliffs of Moher on the way back." Fern hooked arms with Kate as they led the way down the path to the front of the house.

  "You want us to go walk along a sheer drop-off of over seven hundred feet?" Richard asked. "After one person has been killed and another seriously wounded, and we have no idea who's behind it?"

  "Oh," Fern said. "I see your point."

  "Why not just take us to an armory and be done with it?" Richard threw his arms up. "I, for one, plan to go back to the hotel, cover myself in bubble wrap, and not emerge until the killer has been captured." He took long strides to pass Fern and Kate, leaving us all behind as he barreled toward the minibus.

  "Is he serious?" Buster asked.

  "He'll get over it," I said. "He always does."

  We reached the bus and Buster and Mack lumbered up the steps, causing the vehicle to sway from one side to the other.

  I peeked my head inside then looked behind me at Fern. "It looks like everyone is here but the newlyweds and Deb."

  "Deb went with Nancy," someone reminded me from inside.

  "So we're just waiting on Grace and . . ." My words trailed off as I forgot the groom's name.

  "Derek." Fern looked around. "I wonder where they went. I know I didn't see them after we all got off the bus."

  "Neither did we," I said. "They mentioned the walled garden, but I'm surprised they didn't cross paths with the rest of us at some point. Especially after the ambulance screeched up out front."

  "You don't think they're . . ." Fern wagged his eyebrows at me.

  "No," Kate shook her head. "They definitely didn't seem like the type."

  "The type to do what?" I asked, growing impatient with their veiled comments.

  "You know," Fern said, giving me a knowing look that was clearly wasted. "The type to try hanky-panky in public places."

  I stared at him. "That's a type?"

  "Sure." Kate nodded slowly. "I've dated some guys who--"

  I held up a hand to stop her. "I do not want to hear the rest of that sentence."

  She grinned at me. "Your loss. I'm telling you, those two didn't seem the type."

  I usually deferred to Kate's judgment when it came to anything having to do with men, dating, or hanky-panky. I scanned the grounds and Abbey, but saw no one and it was already five minutes past when we were scheduled to leave. "Tell me this then, did they seem the type to try to kill someone?"

  Chapter 22

  "You think just because they were late getting back to the bus that we should suspect them of murder?" Fern whispered as we made our way back to our rooms in Dromoland Castle.

  "They were only ten minutes late," Kate reminded me, pausing with her hand on her doorknob.

  "I'm with Annabelle." Richard bustled past us on his way to his room a few feet down the hallway, the burgundy walls and carpeting seeming darker now that the sun had almost set. "We can account for everyone's whereabouts except for those two."

  "Why would a newlywed couple want to whack on old lady over the head?" Fern asked.

  "If they're newlyweds at all," I said, giving a nod to Buster and Mack who were a few feet behind us. "They aren't even wearing rings."

  Fern fluttered a hand in the air. "Only because Grace discovered she had an allergic reaction to platinum. She explained that to me on the plane."

  "Who's allergic to platinum?" Richard said, opening his door with a swipe of his key. "And that doesn't explain the groom's lack of a ring."

  "A show of solidarity, I assume," Fern said. "You can't tell me you think they faked those looks of horror when they heard what happened to poor Nancy."

  The couple had looked shocked when Fern had told them what they'd missed, but if someone could commit murder, faking surprise would be easy in comparison. Besides, I'd met too many killers who appeared genuinely startled by murders they'd perpetrated.

  "As much as I'd love to stand out in the hall and debate who's behind the latest catastrophe," Richard said. "I have a phone call to make."

  "We do too," Mack said, looking at Buster. "We promised to Skype with Prue every day so she wouldn't get lonely being with the baby alone."

  I knew the real reason probably had less to do with Prue being lonely and more about the men missing baby Merry.

  "Kiss the baby for us," Kate said. "There is a hot shower calling my name."

  Fern took out his flask and shook it. "And a bottle of Jameson's calling mine. I think I know why the Irish love their whiskey. It's pretty stressful over here."

  "I doubt the average citizen of Ireland deals with as many murders and attempted murders on a daily basis as we have," I said. "Their murder rate is actually very low."

  Fern pressed a hand to his chest. "You don't think we brought our murder juju with us, do you?"

  "We don't have murder juju," I said, hoping if I said it forcefully enough it would be true. "We just have bad luck."

  "You keep telling yourself that, darling," Richard said before disappearing into his room.

  Everyone else followed suit with waves and promises to get together later for dinner, but I could tell from the weary voices it would take a lot to drag people out again.

  I pushed open the door to my room and practically stumbled to the four-poster bed, kicking off my black flats and dropping my black nylon tote bag as I flopped onto the white duvet. The day felt like it had stretched out forever, between sneaking into Betty Belle's room in the morning to touring the property and getting stuck in the rain under the gazebo to taking the ill-fated field trip to Glenlo Abbey. I closed my eyes and let my head sink back into the fluffy pillows, breathing deeply. The room service plates from the night before had been cleared away while I was out and the smell of stale food replaced by the faint s
cent of lemon cleanser. I suspected the hotel maids had also left me a stack of fresh towels and new assortment of toiletries.

  I fought the urge to open my eyes and check as I tried to release the stress of the day and clear my mind of all the questions swirling around inside.

  Who had attacked Nancy and why? It had to be connected to Colleen's murder, but how? Were the newlyweds Derek and Grace really who they claimed to be, and why did they happen to turn up where we were staying? There were too many coincidences. I remembered what Reese said: things were connected for a reason. There was no such thing as a coincidence in a murder investigation.

  My eyes flew open. I needed to call Reese. He would be able to give me an outsider's view on what was going on. There was no point in trying to hide the latest crime since he already knew about Colleen's murder and wouldn't be shocked to hear there was a second crime. Knowing Reese and my own track record, he was probably counting on it. I also knew he didn't believe for a second that I was trying not to get pulled into the investigation. It was hard to feel indignant about it when deep down I knew he was right.

  I reached down and dug into my tote bag until I found my phone. I also found a pack of cookies leftover from the plane and opened them while I hit speed dial.

  "Hey, babe," he said when he answered.

  "Is this a good time to talk?" I asked, falling back onto the pillows and stretching my feet out in front of me, crossing them at the ankles.

  "You know I always like to talk to you," he said. "Hold on a second though."

  I took a bite of the brown Biscoff cookie while he clicked over to what I assumed was another caller. I was so hungry, I devoured the entire packet before Reese returned and tossed the cellophane wrapper on the bedside table.

  "Sorry about that," he said when he clicked back over. "So is everything okay?"

  I let out a breath. "Not really. There was another incident today. Another one of the old ladies was attacked, although this time she wasn't murdered. She was just knocked unconscious."

  "That's not good."

  "Obviously, the two attacks are connected, but I have no idea how. Neither of the women seemed to have any enemies or reasons someone would want to kill them."

  "That you know of," Reese said. "There has to be a reason these women were targeted, even if you don't know it yet. I highly doubt a serial killer is following a group of retirees around Ireland and picking them off one-by-one."

  "Unless it's a pair of serial killers disguised as newlyweds," I said, then gave him the condensed version of how Grace and Derek had ended up with us. "I can't think of a reason why they'd want two old ladies dead either, but they're the only ones who were unaccounted for today."

  "It does seem a bit odd that a couple on their honeymoon would want to hang out with your team and a bunch of retired ladies. I can tell you that if we were on our honeymoon, I would want to be as far away from your colleagues as possible."

  My pulse quickened. Had he actually given thought to us going on a honeymoon? That meant he'd probably thought about the part that came before that. I swallowed hard and tried to think of a reply that didn't sound panicky.

  "Hold on," Reese said with a sigh. "Someone's beeping in."

  I exhaled once he's clicked away. I needed to get a grip. Talking about honeymoons did not mean we were walking down the aisle tomorrow. I talked about honeymoons all the time with Kate. Usually about the fact that I had no idea where our couples were going, and Kate felt strongly that I should pay more attention to that detail, but the topic never made my heart race. Why did it make me so nervous to hear my boyfriend talk about us on a honeymoon? Was I scared it was all getting too real?

  "I'm back," he said after a minute away.

  "Are you sure this is a good time?" I asked, thinking maybe I should get off the call before he said anything else to make me panic. "I know it's been crazy with the case you're working on."

  "We arrested the author, so I should be able to put the whole thing to bed today."

  "That's great," I said, feeling more at ease talking about his job. "I wish I could say the same thing."

  "I wish you couldn't," Reese said. "You're not a detective, remember? You're not supposed to be putting cases away. You're supposed to be, well, I actually forgot what you were supposed to be doing over there."

  "Checking out wedding venues," I said. "Which I'm still doing, thank you very much. That's why we were at Glenlo Abbey today."

  "An Abbey that has a train attached to it? Is that normal?"

  I started to answer him when something struck me. "How did you know about the train at Glenlo?"

  "Didn't you mention finding the second woman in the train car? I'm pretty sure you said it was on a train."

  I recognized the sound of someone trying to cover for a slip of the tongue because I'd done it so often with him. "Nope. I didn't say a word about a train."

  "Are you sure?"

  I slipped off the bed and padded in my bare feet across the room and out into the hall. I walked down to Richard's room and knocked on his door. "Positive."

  Richard opened the door, holding his cell phone to his ear. When he saw me, his mouth fell open and the phone slipped a few inches. I snatched it from him and saw on the screen that he was on hold with Reese.

  "Why don't you say hi to Richard," I asked Reese. "Oh, wait, you already have."

  I thrust my phone at Richard and he took it.

  "Good evening, Detective," Richard said, his voice formal until he dropped it and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Yep, she looks pretty steamed." He made an indignant noise. "No, I don't think she's just mad at me."

  Richard held the phone out to me. "He wants to talk to you."

  "I'll bet he does," I said, taking the phone back and pressing it to my ear. "This had better be good."

  "He couldn't reach Leatrice and he called me so I could go check on his dog," Reese said. "He told me about what happened when I was tracking down Leatrice and Hermes. I was on the phone with him when you called in, then he called back when I left him on hold too long."

  "Oh," I said, feeling my ire deflate. I'd assumed Richard was calling Reese to spill the beans about the latest crime in case I decided to hold back from my boyfriend, but it made perfect sense that he was obsessively checking on his dog. "So is Hermes okay?"

  "Of course," Reese said. "Sidney Allen told me the two of them were on a walk. Leatrice has been spending a lot of time at the dog park trying to catch sleeper spies."

  That sounded about right. "I'm sorry I got upset. My nerves are a little frayed."

  "Don't worry about it, babe. I'm counting the days until you get back."

  "If we get back," I said. "All I want to do is keep my head down for the next few days, gather all the information we need for the wedding, and get on that flight out of Dublin."

  I turned as Fern strode into the hall in black pants and a emerald green silk shirt with a black cummerbund. "What on earth . . .?"

  He clapped his hands as he saw me standing in the doorway to Richard's room. "Oh, good. There you are. I got us reservations at a nearby pub that has traditional Irish music. We leave in ten minutes."

  "I'd better go," I told Reese. "It looks like Fern is about to run off and join Riverdance."

  My boyfriend laughed. "That may be the least surprising thing that's happened since you arrived."

  Chapter 23

  "This is a traditional Irish pub?" I asked, eyeing the floor-to-ceiling glass exterior with a modern living room grouping of colorful furniture arranged inside like a department store window display.

  "I suppose it's technically a gastropub," Fern said as we stepped off the castle shuttle that had transported us from the castle to the nearby Inn at Dromoland--a more casual hotel option on the grounds of Dromoland. "But it has live music tonight plus I thought it would be nice to get away from all the castles and abbeys and historic manors."

  "I think it looks fun," Kate said. "Do you think they actually seat people
in the window?"

  "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to eat dinner in the window," Richard said. "Do I look like a goldfish to you?"

  Since his eyes were bugged out and his cheeks sucked in, I hoped Kate would decline to answer.

  "I don't care where we sit, as long as they serve us food," Buster said, patting his belly. "We didn't get scones at Glenlo."

  "You missed a treat," Fern said. "If we'd known you were going to be preoccupied by finding another body, we would have snagged some for you."

  "Next time we plan on stumbling over an unconscious old lady, we'll let you know ahead of time," I said, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

  Fern patted my arm. "That's all I'm asking."

  Richard made no effort to hide his exasperation with an eye roll so dramatic I feared his eyeballs might roll right out of his head and onto the floor. "Oh, for heaven's sake." He strode into Shannigan's Gastropub without a glance behind him, and we all followed.

  The inside of the gastropub was as much of a surprise as the outside with a combination of dark wood against modern purple-and-gold patterned upholstery on banquettes and bar stools. A sleek cream-colored hearth dominated one wall and open-backed shelving held a collection of copper cookery and galvanized tin buckets of grass. One dividing wall of double-sided glass shelving displayed crystal glasses and decanters, while a massive chalkboard wall behind a row of banquettes proclaimed their specialties in swirling letters.

  I inhaled the scent of beer and grilled meat, and my stomach rumbled. The stress of finding Nancy had done a good job of hiding my hunger, but the savory scents made me realize just how hungry I was.

  A waiter led us through the busy restaurant that hummed with the sounds of people talking and a musical ensemble warming up in one corner. We reached a high table with banquette seating on one side and three high barstools on the other. A large painting of a classic Irish pub scene hung over the table with another similar painting beside it. Between the two, they spanned the wall.

  "This is perfect," Kate said as she hopped up onto one of the upholstered barstools.