Love and Shamrocks: Ballybeg, Book 5

by Zara Keane

  Any response Clio might have made was cut short by pandemonium. Helen’s assistant, Phoebe, burst into the room wild-eyed, her mousy brown hair escaping from its severe bun. She looked about frantically, then made a beeline for Seán. “Come quick, Sergeant. Ms. Havelin has been burgled.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  WHAT THE FECK had Ray gone and done? That he was behind the robbery, Clio was in no doubt. The low down, double-crossing weasel…She shoved Seán’s clothes into the dryer and contemplated shoving Ray in with them. After she’d switched the machine on, she sprinted upstairs to her mother’s office.

  Seán was already there, clad in a long white bathrobe. Were it not for the seriousness of the circumstances, Clio would have laughed and then fantasized about undoing the fluffy white belt.

  Tonight, however, her gaze was riveted by the gaping safe. As she knew from her previous rummage through the safe, her mother stored few items in there. The majority of her valuables were in a bank vault. The couple of jewelry boxes the safe did contain were empty, as was the envelope in which Clio had replaced the money she’d taken a couple of weeks ago.

  Helen’s hands fluttered to her throat. “Thank goodness I wore my diamonds, but the money is gone.”

  Seán peered into the empty envelope. “How much cash did you have in here?”

  “About two thousand euros, give or take.”

  Clio’s heart skipped a beat and her eyes rolled back in terror. She’d have to ‘fess up. This had to have been Ray or one of his people. Oh, God. Had they taken the leopard aquamanile, too? She was almost too scared to check.

  “Is there anything else missing from the safe?” Superintendent O’Riordan asked. “I suppose we’ll have to do a thorough search of the house too.”

  “Just a few old keys for the cellar, but they’re of no use to anyone.” Helen clutched her diamond necklace with both hands, as if warding off a potential attack. “I haven’t been down in the cellar since I toured the house. I know we haven’t put anything down there. My wine collection is kept in a separate area off the kitchen, and Olivia’s crew have that key.” Helen sighed. “At least my bank manager can supply us with the bank notes’ serial numbers. Perhaps that will help you catch the thief.”

  Clio’s stomach lurched. “Serial numbers?”

  “Well, yes.” Helen was regarding her as though she were a complete fool. “I picked up sequential notes in person when I transferred my valuables to a safe deposit box at my new bank in Cork City.”

  Feck. Now she was well and truly screwed. “Mother—”

  “Please, Cliona. Let the police do their jobs.” Her mother sagged against the superintendent. “God, Dermot, I can’t think straight.”

  He put an arm around her shoulders manfully. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “Mother, you need to listen to me. It’s about the cash.”

  Everyone fell silent and turned to stare at her.

  Clio took a deep breath and plunged on with her story. “Your bank manager won’t know what serial numbers were on the stolen notes. I withdrew that cash from an ATM in Ballybeg to replace money I’d borrowed from the safe.”

  Helen’s features froze, then crumpled. “You took money from my safe?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I replaced it four days later.”

  Disbelief hovered in the air like a communal held breath.

  “But why?” her mother demanded. “Why did you need so much cash?”

  Clio looked from Seán to the superintendent. “Can’t we discuss that later?”

  “No.” Her mother’s tone was brittle. “I want to discuss it now. Are you back on drugs, Cliona? Is that why you needed so much money?”

  “What?” Her jaw dropped in horror. “No, of course not. I haven’t touched anything stronger than alcohol in over twelve years. Honestly.”

  “Then why did you take the money?” Helen pressed. “Why didn’t you ask me if you needed cash?”

  A vision of a small metal object flashed before Clio’s eyes. “The antiques,” she breathed. “Oh, God. We’ll have to check if they’re all still here.”

  “Unless you want to press charges because Clio took the original bank notes,” Seán said in a brittle voice, “we’d better search the house.”

  Her mother’s stare hardened, her voice ice cold. “I can only hope nothing else is missing.”

  “You know better than anyone what antiques you own,” Seán continued. “Will you help us search?”

  “Cliona unpacked most of the delicate stuff when we moved. I didn’t want to leave those boxes to the movers. She should have a fair idea of what should be there.”

  Clio cleared her throat. “Okay. Let’s start in the reception room. My mother has a lot of paintings and antiques in that room.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Seán led the way into the reception room.

  Helen glanced around. “I think everything is here.”

  Clio’s gaze sought the display case that contained the leopard aquamanile. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “The little metal leopard,” she whispered. “It’s gone.”

  The room spun around her. She’d screwed everything up. Ray must have double-crossed her, the lying rat. And if he hadn’t, if someone else had robbed the house before he could get there, Clio would be in even bigger trouble. It was all going to come out now. The fragile relationship she was building with her mother would snap, and Seán would hate her.

  Helen leaned over the display case and shrugged. “Oh, dear. She’s correct. The leopard aquamanile is missing.”

  “I think my mother is in shock,” Clio said. “Phoebe, can you bring her a glass of brandy?”

  “Certainly.” Phoebe scurried off in search of a drinks cabinet.

  Helen raised an eyebrow. “I’m not in shock, dear. I’m not pleased to have cash stolen out of my safe, and I don’t like the thought of a thief roaming about my house.”

  “But how can you be so calm about the leopard aquamanile being stolen?” Clio turned to Superintendent O’Riordan. “You’ll have to call in the antiquities thefts squad or whatever they’re called.”

  Her mother laughed. “They’ll have to be informed, yes, but don’t get into a panic. It’s not worth much. Frankly, they got more value out of the cash from the safe.”

  Clio’s tongue felt leaden in her mouth. “What?” she mumbled. “But I thought it was worth a quarter of a million euros.”

  “The original is, certainly.” Helen’s neatly tweezed brows formed two perfect arches. “Darling, surely you don’t think I keep the original in the house?”

  “You don’t?” Clio croaked.

  “Of course not. It’s far too valuable a piece to keep at home. At the moment, it’s in a bank vault. I’m in negotiations with the national museum to allow them to display it. They have the security to keep it safe, and there’s no point in leaving it to languish where no one can see it.”

  Clio exhaled in a whoosh. If Ray had taken the piece and later discovered it was a fake, he was going to go mad. And if he hadn’t taken it and learned that the original was secure in a bank, he’d go ballistic. Either way, that would be a very unpleasant telephone conversation.

  She bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. It was all going wrong. Her life had always been on the chaotic side. Her mother was right when she said she had a touch of the nomad in her. But since moving back to Ireland, everything had begun to unravel.

  For feck’s sake. She was supposed to be an adult. She was supposed to know how to manage her life. And yet these days, she woke to a weight on her shoulders and a feeling of utter helplessness and despair.

  “I’ll contact my former partner from National Bureau of Criminal Investigation and let him know to keep an eye out for someone attempting to sell a fake.” Seán was careful to avoid meeting Clio’s eye. From the grim set of his jaw, she could tell he was furious.

  Damn. She’d blown it. Any trust they’d e
stablished that night at his house had snapped. And for the first time in forever, the thought of having messed up a potential relationship hurt with the vicious intensity of alcohol on an open wound.

  Phoebe appeared in the doorway. “Most of the party guests have left, Ms. Havelin. I took the liberty of booking the Carrolls and your friends from the TV station into Clonmore Castle Hotel for the night. I didn’t think having overnight guests would be desirable under the circumstances. The hotel is sending cars to collect them.”

  Helen nodded, distracted. “Thank you, Phoebe.”

  Reserve Garda McGarry’s ruddy complexion hovered at Phoebe’s shoulder. He addressed the superintendent. “I’ve taken everyone’s contact details, sir. A couple of the ladies are very distressed.”

  Superintendent O’Riordan scrunched his face up and blew out a harrumph. “I’ll go down and soothe ruffled feathers until the transport arrives.”

  When the super and Phoebe had left, Helen walked to the drinks cabinet and poured herself another brandy. She downed it in one, and poured a second. “Do either of you want a drink?”

  Clio shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  “And I’m still very much on duty.” Seán’s gaze bore into Clio like pinpricks, making her squirm. “Why did you take the money?”

  She swallowed and considered her options. They were nonexistent. “Long story short, I needed to pay a guy off. I tried calling you before I took it, Mother, but I couldn’t get hold of you. With the clock ticking, I removed the cash and replaced it a few days later with money I borrowed from Emma Reilly.”

  “You owed someone two thousand euros?” Helen played with the necklace around her throat, twisting the beads around her fingers. “Whatever for?”

  “I didn’t owe him the money, exactly.” She rubbed her aching temples. “It’s a long story.”

  Silence permeated the kitchen, suspended like icicles. Seán shifted in his seat, eyes still trained on her. His expression was mild and deceptively blank. “We have all night, Clio. Enlighten us.”

  “I want the truth.” Helen’s voice broke on a sob. “Are you on drugs again?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “If so, I’ll get you into a rehab program. Residential is best, I think.”

  Clio’s hands tightened around the arms of her chair. “I don’t need rehab.”

  “That’s what all addicts say.” Her mother’s voice rose to a crescendo.

  “For the last time, I am not on drugs.”

  Helen raised her eyebrow.

  “Mother! Not the thing with your eyebrow.”

  “What thing?” Helen looked genuinely perplexed.

  Clio’s eyes met Seán’s. For a millisecond, she saw the old humor reflected in them. And then the shutters slammed down.

  “Who asked you for the money?” Seán’s deep voice was even deeper than usual.

  She bit her lip. “A guy who’s blackmailing me.”

  Helen’s mouth gaped open. “What did you do to be blackmailed?”

  Here goes. She tasted bile in her mouth and swallowed. “After the police told me they wouldn’t be charging Trevor O’Leary with molesting Tammy, I sort of lost it. I didn’t want the man hurt. Not really. I just wanted to make sure he never went near Tammy again.”

  “Molesting Tammy?” Seán’s tone was sharp, alert. “What the hell?”

  She took a deep breath. “Long story short, Tammy’s music teacher seduced her. When I found out about it, I went straight to the police. To be fair to them and the school, they did take me seriously. After a few weeks of digging, they had nothing concrete with which to charge the man. Tammy refused to cooperate and denied he’d ever touched her. In private, she admitted he had. In fact, she thinks she’s in love with him. No other girls came forward to say he’d behaved inappropriately with them. Basically, the police had nothing to persuade a judge to take the case to trial.”

  “You must have been furious.” Seán’s tone was gentler than before.

  “Furious?” She ground her teeth to stop them chattering. “I was livid.”

  “So what happened next?” He’d removed a pen from his shirt pocket, but hadn’t yet started taking notes.. “You obviously didn’t let it drop.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She sighed. “Perhaps I should have. After the police told me O’Leary would get off scot-free, I freaked. I knew if I called Tammy’s father, he’d have made sure O’Leary was six feet under before midnight, but I didn’t want violence. Instead, I called a guy I used to work for. When Tammy was a baby and I was skint, this man employed me to do jobs of, shall we say, dubious legality. Anyway, he still owed me money for a job I’d done years ago, and I figured I could try to persuade him to do me a favor.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Some favor it turned out to be. I asked him to get some of his men to scare O’Leary off. Give him a warning. I did not ask him to have the man beaten into a coma.”

  Her mother spoke. “I knew there had to be a reason you changed your mind about moving to Ballybeg.”

  “Yes. After O’Leary was attacked, I was keen to escape Dublin. But now the man behind the attack is putting the screws into me, wanting me to give him money and steal stuff.”

  “This man wouldn’t happen to go by the name of Ray Greer, would he?” Seán asked in a dry tone.

  Her heart leaped in her chest. “What?” Slowly, her heat rate began to return to normal. “Of course, you’d know Ray from the Dublin crime scene.”

  “Indeed.” He leaned forward. “I also know that Lar Delaney works for him.”

  “That’s not exactly accurate.” Far from accurate, actually, but Clio had more sense than to invoke the wrath of the Delaney clan by discussing their business with the police. “Lar’s kind of his own man. He’ll do jobs for people if the money is right, but he’s not part of Ray’s usual gang of goons.” This, at least, was true.

  Seán tapped the table, forehead creased in thought. “I’ll make a few phone calls to colleagues in Dublin. See what I can ferret out about Ray.”

  “There’s more,” Clio said, looking from one to the other. “I think Ray is behind tonight’s robbery.”

  “Do you mean to tell me,” Helen said in a quavering voice, “that a notorious Dublin gangster was roaming my house?”

  “I doubt that. Ray doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. He’ll have sent one of his lackeys to do the job for him.”

  “Let’s focus on the robbery angle.” Seán scribbled something into his notebook, brow furrowed. “Why do you think Ray was behind it?”

  She twisted the rings on her fingers, finally putting her trembling hands on her lap. “Because he was very interested in my mother’s leopard aquamanile. He wanted me to locate it and arrange for his people to have access to the house.”

  “What?” Helen spluttered. “You’re responsible for tonight’s robbery as well as stealing the money?”

  “The break-in wasn’t supposed to happen until March 14. That was the date Ray gave me when I told him you were hosting a party tonight.” Her head spun and it was difficult to keep her thoughts clear with panic clawing its way from her stomach to her throat. “This is all coming out wrong. I wasn’t going to go through with the robbery. I had Emma on the case, looking for dirt on Ray that I could use to stall him.”

  “Emma?” Seán’s eyebrows formed a question mark.

  “I mentioned her to you before. Emma Reilly. She’s the friend who’s a private investigator.”

  “Ah. The woman whose parents fostered Tammy for a couple of years.”

  “That’s right. In addition to translation work for the Dublin tourist board, I worked part-time as Emma’s office assistant when I moved back to Dublin.”

  “And has your friend turned up anything useful?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. She discovered that Ray, through a guy on his payroll, was a silent partner in a shopping center development near Ballybeg. Apparently, the project went bust, and one of the partners did a runner to Spain.”

 
; “Bernard Byrne, the former owner of Clonmore House.” Seán nodded. “I investigated the case.”

  “Exactly. But I’m not sure how this fits in with Ray’s interest in my mother’s aquamanile. I was never convinced that was all he was after. If he coveted a particular antique, he could have asked me to steal it for him. Instead, he wanted his people to have access to the house to take it. It didn’t smell right.”

  “You don’t say.” Helen’s tone dripped sarcasm. “Frankly, none of this smells right, Cliona. In fact, the whole situation reeks.”

  Clio focused on Seán. “Where do we go from here?”

  “Unless your mother wants to press charges against you—”

  “I don’t,” Helen said firmly. “We can sort this out between ourselves.”

  “—I suggest we keep quiet about it for now. We’ve been looking for something to pin on Ray for a long time. I don’t want anything to screw this up. I’ll contact my colleagues in the NBCI and see what I can find out about his interest in Clonmore House and what he might be expecting to find here. In the meantime, I suggest you change all the locks for the keys that were stolen.”

  Helen waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, all right. The burglars probably took them along with everything else. I doubt they’re of significance. As I said earlier, there’s nothing in the cellar to steal.”

  “All the same, it’s best to be cautious.” Seán got to his feet.

  Clio jumped up. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  “No need. I can see myself out.” His smile was hard, his eyes granite. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Watching his broad, blue-uniformed back descend the stairs, Clio’s stomach cramped. She bit her lip and ran a hand through her by-now disheveled hair. She’d blown it with Seán. Whatever might have developed between them—no-strings sex, friends with benefits, or something deeper—she’d blown it into oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  BY LATE MONDAY MORNING, Seán had been in touch with a colleague from his old division in the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation regarding the robbery.