Irish Aisle are Smiling

by Laura Durham

  "Sorry," I said, patting the bar stool next to mine. "We were checking out the event spaces."

  "Let me pour you a drink," Fern said, producing another glass from under the bar.

  Richard blinked a few times. "Was I gone so long Fern actually got a job at the hotel?"

  Fern slid the glass over to Richard, and then fluttered a hand in the air. "Aren't you a stitch? This bar isn't staffed, so we helped ourselves to the glassware."

  Kate joined us at the bar while Fern passed out the remaining glasses and lifted his glass in the air. "A toast."

  "To our first destination wedding," Kate said.

  I lifted my glass. "Slainte."

  Richard clinked his glass with mine. "And to no little old ladies killing us in our sleep."

  I took a sip, feeling the Irish whiskey burning my throat as I swallowed. My phone buzzed in my bag, and I pulled it out. "What does Leatrice want? I hope she's reconsidered the orange lace bridesmaids' jumpsuits."

  Kate nearly choked on her whiskey. "Orange lace? Jumpsuits? Which poor friends of hers have to wear that?"

  I realized I'd forgotten to mention both the horrific outfits and the fact that Leatrice had chosen us as attendants. "Actually, we do."

  Kate gaped at me. "By 'we' I hope you mean you and Richard."

  "Not on your life," Richard said. "My jumpsuit days are over."

  The fact that Richard had ever had jumpsuit days made me want to stop and ask him to elaborate, but the phone continued to buzz. “Didn’t I mention that we’re both bridesmaids?”

  Kate slipped off the stool, barely catching herself before she landed on the floor.

  I clicked the talk button. "Hey, Leatrice. How's it going?"

  "Everything's fine, dearie. I wanted to double-check that the plant on your desk is fake."

  I'd found an adorable pot of fake lavender at Target, and thought it perfectly fit my level of horticultural prowess. "It is, but why are you asking?"

  "I didn't want to water it if it doesn't need water," she said as if my question was the silliest thing she'd ever heard.

  "Okay," I said, putting a finger to one ear to block the sound of Kate’s spluttering protests in the background, "but why would you be in my apartment watering my fake plant?"

  "Oh goodness," Leatrice said. "What time is it over there?"

  "Why does that matter?" I asked. "Leatrice, have you been using Sharpies again? You know the fumes make you loopy."

  "No, nothing like that, I promise. It's just . . . Oh, dear."

  Kate mumbled something about hating lace as she walked with her rocks glass to the open double doors leading into the bar. "I'm going to check out the terrace with Buster and Mack while you . . . Is that . . .?"

  I turned to watch her gaze drop to the entrance of the hotel and my stomach clenched. Had the old ladies tracked us down already or were the newlyweds on our tail as I suspected?

  Kate turned to me, her eyes wide. "I can't believe it."

  When I joined her at the door, I almost dropped my drink. That made two of us.

  Chapter 28

  I rolled over in bed, shielding my eyes from the light streaming in through the sheer curtains. It was clearly morning, but how late had I slept? I reached across the king-sized bed and felt around for my phone on the nightstand, flipping it up and groaning when I saw that it was past nine o'clock. So much for getting an early start on the day. Not that anyone would expect me to be bounding out of bed after our surprise the night before.

  "Good morning, sleepyhead."

  I sat up as Mike Reese walked into the room holding two paper to-go coffee cups. He wore black athletic shorts and a white Under Armor T-shirt, and his face was flushed with one dark loop of hair falling down over his forehead.

  "So I didn't imagine you," I said, flopping back on the down pillows. "You weren't a mirage created by my travel-addled brain?"

  He crossed the room, dropping a newspaper on the dove-gray armchair by the window before sitting beside me on the edge of the bed. "If I'm a mirage, then I'm a very interactive one."

  I felt my cheeks warm as he leaned down to kiss me. "I can't believe you let me sleep so late. Did you actually go running?"

  "The hotel is right across from St. Stephen's Green. It's a great place for a morning run." He handed me one of the coffee cups and cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't let you sleep late, you were comatose when I tried to wake you earlier."

  "If you tried to entice me by mentioning a run, then that's why." I took a sip of the coffee, enjoying the flavor of mocha and the instant warmth. "How can you be so energetic after flying six hours yesterday?"

  "More than that," he said, taking a sip of his own coffee, which I knew was not augmented by mocha and sugar and whipped cream like mine. "I had to fly to New York first to catch the daytime flight."

  I wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned into him. "Thanks for coming. I feel so much better now that you're here."

  "Like I said, Ireland is the type of place I wanted to visit with you. The fact that you're knee-deep in a potentially life-threatening criminal investigation only sped up my time table." He brushed a strand of hair off my face. "I was serious when I said I wanted you back in one piece."

  I felt a slight flutter in my belly as I put my coffee down on the polished wood nightstand. "And am I correct in remembering that Richard was in cahoots with you about this?"

  "Cahoots makes us sound like co-conspirators."

  "Which you are," I said. "I'm assuming you two cooked this up when you were on the phone the other night."

  He laughed. "If by 'cooked this up' you mean he told me the name of your Dublin hotel and when you'd be arriving, then yes, he helped me cook up my surprise visit."

  "Remind me to thank him later." I pulled him down for another kiss. "A lot later."

  The knock at the door made me reluctantly pull away.

  "I guess we couldn't expect your merry gang to stay away for too long," Reese said with a sigh.

  I tossed back the white duvet and slipped out of bed, padding to the bathroom and snagging the terrycloth hotel robe off the back of the door. "I'm amazed they held out this long."

  Reese walked to the door and glanced out the peephole before opening it. "I guess it could be worse. It's only one."

  Richard strode in with the fake Louis Vuitton bag thrown over his shoulder. "Is she decent?"

  "Of course I'm decent," I said, walking toward him.

  Richard gave me a quick once-over. "Barely, darling." He looked pointedly at his watch. "Did you just roll out of bed?"

  I ran a hand through my hair. "Not just." I motioned to my boyfriend. "And he's been up for hours."

  Richard took in Reese's slightly sweaty attire and arched an eyebrow. "I can see that. Someone's hitting the ground running."

  "So is this my personal wake-up call or did you have something specific to talk about?" I asked. Now that I was up and slightly caffeinated, I was dying for a shower.

  He swung the designer duffel down and set it on the round wooden table positioned next to the gray armchair. "In all the excitement of your surprise visitor, did you forget about this?"

  "Of course not." I hadn't forgotten about it exactly, but I'd been happily distracted since Reese had shown up. It was almost the first time since we'd arrived I hadn't been worrying about someone getting killed or attacked or framed for murder, so I didn't feel too guilty about it.

  Reese walked over to the bag. "I take it these are the artifacts?"

  Richard nodded. "I insisted on keeping them in my room last night." He gave me a knowing look. "I couldn't be sure Fern wouldn't start accessorizing with them."

  Reese unzipped the bag and unrolled a few of the tea towels. "They look pretty old. I did some searching before I left and did find some reports of thefts taking place around Ireland in some of the smaller museums and stately homes."

  "Any in County Limerick or Galway?" I asked.

  Reese grinned at me. "Funny you should mention it, bu
t yes."

  Richard clapped his hands together. "There you have it. Case closed."

  "Except we have no idea who actually took them and what they were planning on doing with them," I reminded him. "It doesn't do us much good to rescue these if the thief is able to do it again."

  "I wouldn't say you have no idea," Reese said, zipping up the bag again. "You've successfully narrowed the potential suspects."

  Richard tapped a toe on the carpet. "To every old lady in the genealogy tour group."

  "And possibly the newlyweds, although they're admittedly a long shot," I added.

  Reese glanced from me to Richard and back to me. "Might I remind you it isn't your job to track down the guilty party or even to figure out why they did it? All we need to do it return the stolen artifacts and let the local guards handle the rest."

  Richard and I both let out a breath, but his sounded like it was from relief and mine was from exasperation. We were supposed to walk away from the case without finding out who was behind the murder of Colleen, the attack on Nancy, and Kate being framed for murder?

  "I know what you're thinking, Annabelle." Richard flicked his eyes to me. "The thought of leaving without solving the case makes your skin crawl. You're a born problem solver. It's what makes you such a good wedding planner, but it's also what gets you in so much trouble."

  "I never get in trouble," I said.

  Reese made a strangled sound and tried to cover it up with a cough.

  Richard held up his fingers. "Should I list off the times you've almost gotten killed?"

  I pulled myself up to my full height. "That won't be necessary, thank you very much. I get your point."

  "Do I need to remind you that we're here to find the perfect wedding venue for the biggest wedding of the year?" Richard said. "We only have a few more days before we go home, so I suggest we get this bag to the authorities and get back to work. Our real work."

  I knew Richard was right, as much as I hated to admit it. My instinct to fix things--from upset brides to missing bouquets to unsolved murders--was usually a good thing, but not when the compulsion overtook everything else. I knew it drove Reese crazy too, and I'd honestly tried to rein it in. Not always with great success.

  I threw up my hands. "You're right. Halsey is expecting a full report on all the venues we've seen as soon as we get home. I need to take photos of this hotel and pop into the reception spaces even though I have a feeling she'd going to choose one of the sites in the country."

  Reese stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my waist. "You know what they say about all work and no play. Don't you think we should see a little of Dublin while we're here?"

  I felt my shoulders relax as I leaned into him. "You're right. Especially since you flew all this way."

  "There's a Gardaí station at Trinity College," Reese said. "I already checked it out on a map. We can walk through Grafton Street on our way to return the artifacts. Maybe have a leisurely lunch on the way back?"

  "Now you're talking," Richard said. "Shall we meet downstairs in half an hour?"

  Reese dropped his eyes to me and grinned. I knew he'd probably hoped to have lunch by ourselves, but I wasn't going to be the one to tell Richard to take a hike.

  "We both still need to shower and dress," I said.

  Richard raised an eyebrow. "I've seen you get ready, darling. Cats have more time-intensive grooming regimens."

  Reese tugged me closer. "I hope the shower is big enough for two if Richard's rushing us like this."

  Richard's face flushed as he spun on his heel. "An hour then, but not a moment longer. The sooner we get rid of this bag, the better."

  I looked up at my boyfriend after Richard had flounced out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. "So the quickest way to get rid of Richard is to suggest we shower together. That's good to know for future reference. You think it would work the same way on Leatrice?"

  "Doubtful," Reese said. "She'd probably stand outside the door trying to hand us rubber ducks."

  I laughed. I knew this probably wasn't far from the truth.

  "So," I motioned to the bathroom with my head. "You want first shower?"

  His eyes met mine and he grinned wickedly. "Oh, I wasn't kidding about the shower being big enough for two. We do have an hour, after all."

  This trip was finally looking up.

  Chapter 29

  "Well, that was anticlimactic," I said as we walked out of the Trinity College Gardaí station.

  Richard twisted his neck to look back at the gray stone building with its three wide archways over the door. "What did you expect?"

  "They seemed grateful to have the artifacts returned and took down your statements," Reese said as he took my hand in his.

  "I don't know," I said, dodging a group of people on the sidewalk. "I got the feeling they weren't convinced by Richard's explanation of how we ended up with a fake Louis Vuitton bag."

  "The ten minutes on the differences in stitching might have been a bit much," Reese said, not looking at Richard.

  "I thought they would appreciate the detail," Richard said. "Don't police like to be thorough?"

  We walked around the stone walls of Trinity College as we headed back to Grafton Street. Richard had insisted we walk briskly to the station and rid ourselves of the fake Louis before stopping to enjoy any of the street performers or cafes. I pushed up the sleeves of my black cardigan. It wasn't warm by DC standards, but the sun was peeking out from behind gray clouds, and it must have been nearing mid-day.

  "Do you think they're going to try to figure out who's doing the stealing and smuggling?" I asked. Although the guards had been polite, I got the feeling they weren't all that concerned by a thieving band of Americans, if that's who was behind everything. Even when I'd explained about the murder and attack, they'd only raised a few eyebrows and jotted down the name of Garda Ryan to contact for further information.

  "How exactly could they do that?" Richard asked. "Start chasing the old ladies around the country? Even we have no idea which of the women could have murdered Colleen and attacked Nancy. Not to mention lift a bunch of antiquities. If it's all connected."

  I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at him. "Of course it's all connected. What are the chances all of these things would happen during a single trip and not be related?"

  Richard shrugged. "With out luck? Relatively high."

  We turned onto the pedestrian filled Grafton Street that wound its way down to St. Stephen's Green. I could hear singers busking for money and smell the scent of lunch wafting from the pubs and cafes. Both sides of the street were lined with four and five story brownstone-style buildings, some redbrick and others gray stone with storefronts at the bottom. Smaller shops with narrow awnings were interspersed with larger chain stores advertising sales in their glass windows.

  "Is that Mack?" Reese asked, and I followed his line of sight down the street.

  Buster and Mack didn't blend in with most surroundings, so I wasn't surprised to see that it was indeed our leather-clad friend coming out of a shop, bags hanging from his arms. Buster was right behind him and was equally laden with paper shopping bags. A few people stepped out of their way and more than a few mouths dropped open as the men lumbered down the street.

  "Buster!" I yelled. "Mack!"

  They turned and grinned when they saw us.

  "You caught us," Mack said when we'd joined them. He held up a plastic cup. "We were getting ice cream."

  I glanced at the blue and white storefront they'd emerged from. Murphy's Ice Cream was a small shop with a drawing of an ice cream cone beside its name and it proclaimed that it was "handmade in Dingle."

  "How is it?" Reese asked, eyeing the gooey concoction in Mack's dish.

  "Amazing," Mack said. "I got the Dreamy Creamy Caramel."

  My stomach rumbled. "We probably should eat real food before ice cream."

  "Why?" Reese asked, winking at me and disappearing into the shop.

 
; Richard followed him mumbling something about culinary research.

  "So what did you find?" I asked Buster and Mack, pointing to their bags.

  "Clothes for baby Merry," Buster said, placing one armful of bags on ground and handing his ice cream to Mack.

  "She's going to be the most stylish baby in the city," Mack said, taking a bite from his ice cream and then from Buster's.

  Buster held up a small fisherman's sweater with tiny nut-brown buttons. "Isn't it perfect?"

  "We got it a bit big," Mack explained, "since she won't wear it until next fall."

  Buster replaced the sweater in the bag and took his ice cream back, narrowing his eyes at Mack when he noticed the missing bite. "What have you been up to?"

  Mack nudged me. "Aside from a happy reunion with the detective."

  I felt my cheeks warm. They were undoubtedly referring to how I'd jumped on Reese when I'd seen him the night before, wrapping my legs around his waist and nearly knocking him over. Kate and Fern had cheered, while Richard had sucked in air so sharply I'd thought he might keel over himself.

  "We were at the Gardaí station," I said. "Returning the stolen artifacts and giving them statements."

  "That's a relief," Mack said through a mouthful of ice cream. "So we don't need to worry about it anymore."

  "I suppose not," I said, although I still hadn't convinced myself I could forget about everything that had happened.

  "One Sticky Toffee Pudding and one Dingle Sea Salt," Reese said, reappearing from inside the shop and holding out two plastic cups. "Take your pick, babe."

  "I'll take the sea salt." I took the ice cream not covered in toffee sauce and took a bite. It was creamy and sweet with a salty tang.

  "What did you get?" Buster asked Richard when he came out.

  "Dingle Gin," Richard said. "Something you can't get in DC."

  Mack goggled the dish. "I've never heard of gin ice cream."

  Richard took a bite and smiled. "Delicious."

  We resumed walking down the street eating our ice cream. My eyes caught a souvenir shop, its windows a riot of green with Irish flags, stuffed sheep, and leprechauns.