by Zara Keane
“Uh-oh,” Lenny whispered beside me. “Now we’re in for it.”
The words I muttered beneath my breath were less polite. “What possessed you to show up here with a cannabis plant?” I whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Lenny whispered back. “I thought it would give you a laugh.”
Reynolds, also known as Sergeant Hottie—okay, known as Sergeant Hottie by me—removed his helmet and revealed close-cropped dark blond hair and a face that would have been movie-star handsome but for a nose that had been broken more than once. To my annoyance, a jolt of desire set my blood humming.
“Cooee,” my aunt called. To my horror, she held up the cannabis plant for Reynolds to see. “Look what Maggie gave me. Isn’t it lovely?”
Oblivious to the policeman’s slack-jawed expression, my aunt got into her car, waved to us, and drove off with the cannabis plant on her passenger seat.
2
Sergeant Hottie’s gaze met mine. His dark blue eyes twinkled with merriment. “Your aunt cracks me up.”
My shoulders tensed. I didn’t think Reynolds was the type to freak out and accuse my aunt of deliberately growing cannabis, but he was still the legal representative of law and order on the island. “Noreen’s lovely, but clueless at times.”
Reynolds’s smile widened, drawing my attention to his dimples. “You might want to drop her a hint to part company from the plant before I officially become your neighbor.”
“Consider it done.” I exhaled in relief. Had Reynolds’s predecessor, Sergeant O’Shea, seen my aunt with the plant, he’d have hauled her down to the police station without stopping to think.
My new neighbor’s focus shifted to Lenny, and his expression became markedly less friendly. “If I catch you cultivating or distributing controlled plants, Logan, I’ll have you down to the station before you can blink. Understood?”
Lenny’s gulp was audible. “Loud and clear, sergeant. I’d, uh, better make tracks. Paddy Driscoll is grumpy at the best of times, and he’s in a foul mood today over his sheep.”
“Noreen told me about the Union Jack coats,” I said with a grin. “I’d love to have seen that.”
Lenny laughed. “Paddy must have been livid.”
“Incandescent with rage,” Sergeant Reynolds drawled. “I had to deal with him. I’m still not sure if his sheep’s new outfits or the British flag upset him more.”
I chuckled and glanced at my watch. Eleven o’clock. The mail might have been delivered by now, and I was expecting papers from my divorce lawyer. “I’ll walk down as far as the van with you,” I said to Lenny. “I need to check my mailbox.” I whistled, and Bran bounded over to my side, delighted to be included in whatever action might occur.
Reynolds petted the dog, deftly angling himself to avoid being subjected to a groin investigation. “Hey, mate. How’s my favorite amateur sleuth? Caught any more criminals lately?”
“Nope. I’m hoping our days of crime solving on Whisper Island are behind us. Right, Bran?”
The dog barked and sped ahead of us.
“I’ll join you,” Reynolds said, and he fell into step with Lenny and me as we headed toward the gates. I say “fell into step”, but I had to hurry to keep up with the policeman’s long strides, and judging by the glance I exchanged with Lenny, he had to do the same.
We reached the mailboxes just as the postman’s green van drew up. Eddie Ward, Whisper Island’s wannabe Lothario, hopped out of the vehicle and subjected me to a visual strip search that made me want to scrub myself with Lysol.
The guy was a sight to behold. He was tanned an unnatural shade of mahogany with slicked back Elvis-style dark hair. Winter and summer, rain and shine, he wore his summer postal worker’s uniform of shorts and a T-shirt. He added a splash of individuality to the ensemble with his trademark mirrored wraparound sunglasses, chained medallion, and the cigarette that was permanently clenched between his teeth.
“Good morning, love.” The man’s dazzling white smile was as blinding as it was insincere. He nodded at Reynolds. “Hey, Sarge.”
Lenny, apparently, didn’t warrant a greeting. My instinctual dislike of the postman increased a notch.
“Eddie,” I muttered, aware my greeting was barely civil, but not caring. Noreen had her mail delivered to a box at the Smuggler’s Cove post office, so I’d managed to avoid Whisper Island’s resident sleaze while I’d been living with her. Since moving into Shamrock Cottages, I’d been subjected to the postman’s leers on a daily basis.
After Eddie had handed Reynolds his mail, the postman pressed a wad of envelopes into my hand, making sure to let his fingers brush over my skin in a predatory fashion. I yanked my hand back and glared at him. “Keep your paws to yourself.”
Eddie smirked. “I’m just being friendly.”
“More like overly friendly,” Reynolds said in a warning tone. “Watch it, Ward.”
The postman appeared to be unperturbed by this rebuke. “All I did was give her the post. Just doing my job.”
“I’m pretty sure your job description doesn’t involve making my skin crawl. Does your technique ever work on women?” I held up a hand. “No, don’t answer that. There’s plenty of fools desperate enough to overlook your slime factor.”
Eddie’s leer didn’t falter. “Why won’t you go out with me, Maggie? What’s the harm in going for a drink?”
“How about because you make me want to hurl? A drink—or any other social arrangement that involves me being alone with you—is never going to happen.”
“You’ve delivered the post, Ward.” Reynolds’s granite expression matched his voice. “Time to move on to the next house.”
Chuckling, Eddie winked at me, and then gave Sergeant Reynolds a wave. “See you tomorrow, gorgeous,” he said as he swaggered back to his van. “Bye, Sarge.”
After Eddie’s van had disappeared down the road, Lenny muttered something in Gaelic that I couldn’t understand but which made Reynolds laugh out loud.
“No love lost between you two, eh?” Reynolds asked in amusement.
“No.” Lenny drew the word out to give it maximum impact. “I can’t stand the man.”
“He seems to be popular with the ladies, though.” Reynolds turned to me and frowned. “Apart from Maggie. Is Ward hassling you? Do you want me to have a word with him?”
“He’s reptilian, but I can handle him.” I shuddered at the memory of his fingers on my hand. “I can’t believe any woman would fall for his slick act. It positively oozes with practiced insincerity.”
“Plenty of women do fall for Ward’s act,” Lenny said, an edge to his tone. “More’s the pity. Anyway, I’d better get moving. I’ll swing by the Movie Theater Café later to help you set up for the Movie Club meeting.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate some help. Julie has parent-teacher meetings and can’t get there before eight.”
“In that case, I’ll report for duty at seven.” Lenny gave me a mock salute, and Reynolds a sheepish grin. “See you later, folks.”
After Lenny had left, Reynolds and I strolled back up the drive to the cottages while Bran shot up the drive, darting to and fro. I flicked through my mail, and my stomach clenched when I recognized Joe’s handwriting. It was the third letter from him that I’d received since moving to Whisper Island, and I dreaded reading yet another insincere apology from my ex.
I shoved the letters into my jacket pocket and quickened my step to keep up with my new neighbor, although I suspected he’d already shortened his long stride to accommodate me. Joe’s letter seemed to burn a hole in my pocket. I both itched to open it and dreaded what it might contain.
“How’s the move going?” I asked Reynolds, conscious of an awkward silence between us now that we were on our own, and keen to focus on a topic that wasn’t my divorce.
“Slowly but surely. I put most of my stuff in storage before I took the job in Galway. Now that I’m moving to Whisper Island on a permanent basis, it’s time to get it and unpack properly.”
“Is this your stuff from Dublin?”
“What?” Liam glanced up in surprise. “No, I’m from Dublin originally, but I was living in London until I moved to Galway in November.”
“London?” It was my turn to be surprised. “Were you with the British police?”
“Yeah. I worked for the Met.” He correctly interpreted my blank stare. “The Metropolitan Police Service. The HQ was at New Scotland Yard until their recent move.”
I whistled. Even I’d heard of Scotland Yard. “What branch did you work for?”
“I started in vice and then moved to homicide.”
“Wait a sec…” I stopped short and stared at him. “You were a detective?”
Reynolds shrugged. “For a while.”
“Why on earth would you give that up for a transfer to Whisper Island?”
“I didn’t transfer. It doesn’t work like that. The British and Irish police forces are completely separate. I joined An Garda Síochána straight out of university, and I worked for them for a couple of years. When I moved to London, I had to go through the regular recruitment and training channels to join the Met. When I moved back to Ireland and reapplied for a position with the Gardaí, I had to complete a short retraining course to get my old rank back.”
This speech was the longest I’d heard him make. Since his arrival on Whisper Island a few weeks ago, Reynolds had proved to be a man of mystery. Even Noreen hadn’t managed to pump much personal information out of the island’s new police officer. And knowing my aunt, it wasn’t for lack of trying on her part. I was not-so-subtly fishing for info. “Were you tired of policing London?”
He looked down at me from his several inches height advantage and gave me a half-smile. “That’s one way of putting it. You’re very curious, Ms. Doyle.”
“I take after my aunts,” I replied, unperturbed by his reluctance to open up. I’d get his story out of him eventually. My thoughts drifted back to the letter burning a hole in my pocket. Even though I was relieved to be rid of Joe and his overbearing mother, I still felt sick every time I received letters or email about our impending divorce. They reminded me of the mess I’d made of my life at home in San Francisco.
“Are you okay, Maggie?” Reynolds asked gently. “Is Eddie Ward’s pestering bothering you?”
“What?” I’d forgotten all about the postman. “Oh, no. Well, yes,” I amended, “but I can handle Eddie.”
“So what’s up?”
I grimaced. “I got a letter from my ex.”
“Ah,” he said. “Your aunt mentioned you were getting a divorce.”
“Yeah. We’re haggling over money. The usual story.” Not to mention Joe’s whining apologies for cheating on me with his paralegal that managed to descend into accusations and recriminations within a couple of paragraphs.
“Divorce is never pleasant,” Reynolds said softly. “I hope it all works out for you.”
We’d reached the front door of my cottage. We stood awkwardly for a few seconds, and I wondered if I should invite him inside. Reynolds must have sensed my hesitation, because he said, “I’d better get back to my place and finish unpacking.”
“Don’t you need to go to the station today?”
“Yeah, but not for another couple of hours. Sergeant O’Shea is on duty this morning.”
I laughed at the mention of my old nemesis. “How are you two coping now that you’re in charge?”
Reynolds slid me an ironic look. “About as well as I’d expected.”
“I guess he’s not thrilled that he can’t spend his days on the golf course anymore.”
“He’s not a bad sort,” Reynolds said diplomatically. “But we have a different work ethic.”
“Oh, come on. He’s useless. Before you came, he left most of the real police work to the reserve garda.”
“Gardaí,” Reynolds corrected. “Garda is singular.”
I scrunched up my nose. “I’ll never get the hang of Gaelic.”
“Doesn’t your cousin teach an Irish evening class at the school? I’m thinking of taking it.”
“Julie teaches several Gaelic classes. Or Irish, as you call it around here.” I frowned. “But why would you need an Irish class? Didn’t you learn it at school?”
“I did, but that was a long time ago, and my parents never spoke Irish at home.”
“If I were staying longer, I’d consider taking one of Julie’s classes, but if I’m leaving at the end of May, it hardly seems worth it.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I noticed an ‘if’ in your second sentence. Are you sure you want to go back to San Francisco?”
“I… I’m not sure.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat and cursed the hot tears that stung my eyes at the thought of the hot mess I’d left behind me in San Francisco. “I can’t hide out here forever.”
“Hiding out? Is that what you think you’re doing? From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re building a new life for yourself.” His eyes moved from me to my new car. “Buying a car…that says commitment to me.”
This made me laugh. “That vehicle is a heap of rust. I only bought it because it was cheaper than renting one for three months.”
“Ah, we’ll see if you stay or if you go, Miss Doyle.” Reynolds’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve a feeling we’ll be neighbors for a while yet.”
Was it my imagination, or was he flirting with me? My cheeks grew warm at the thought. The last thing I needed at the moment was a romantic entanglement. Look how well that had worked out for me the last time. On the other hand, I’d have had to be dead not to notice how good looking the sergeant was. “Are you planning to stay on Whisper Island for good?”
He shrugged. “I’ll see how it goes. ‘For good’ is a long time, but I can see myself settling down here for a few years.”
“Are you looking to buy a place of your own?”
“I’ve put out a few feelers. I’ve rented this place until the summer, and I’ll see what properties turn up between now and then.” He grinned at me. “I still have to survive my probationary period, remember?”
“You’ll be fine. The district superintendent likes you. Besides,” I added with a cheeky smile, “how many policemen would be crazy enough to volunteer for a job on an island that’s frequently inaccessible for part of the year?”
“True enough.” Reynolds nodded in the direction of his cottage. “I’d better get back to my boxes. Unless those eejit activists decide to hold another sheep fashion show, I should make it to your aunt’s café in time for the film tonight.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You’re coming to a Movie Club meeting? I didn’t think it would be your scene.” As I spoke the words, I realized I had no idea what the sergeant’s scene was.
“Ah, sure, I figure if I want to stay on Whisper Island, I’d better get to know some of the locals.”
“And there’s not much to do in the evenings except go to the pub, or attend one of the numerous club meetings,” I added for him.
“As you say, Whisper Island is a quiet place. That’s exactly why I moved here.” He took a step toward his front door and gave me a bone-melting smile. “Have a good day, Maggie.”
“You, too.” My cheeks burned like a love-struck teenager’s and I bolted back into the safety of my cottage.
3
Several times a week, I worked at my aunt’s café on Smuggler’s Cove’s main thoroughfare. Noreen had renovated the old movie theater and transformed it into a charming café. The foyer served as the café and sported comfortable leather chairs around wooden tables that were each named after a vintage movie star. The concession stand now served as a bar, and included an impressive Italian coffee machine to make patrons a variety of caffeinated drinks. One Friday evening per month, my aunt opened the doors to the old movie theater and screened a vintage movie for the Movie Club members. Tonight, unfortunately, our hopes of watching The Postman Always Rings Twice were dwindling.
My aunt stared at the broken projector with
a dejected expression on her usually cheerful face. “Is there no chance of getting it to work?”
Lenny unfurled his skinny body and stood up from where he’d been working on the Movie Theater Café’s one and only movie projector, which was stubbornly refusing to cooperate. “No chance, I’m afraid. I’ll have to take it to the mainland to get it fixed.”
“I could take it next week,” I said. “I need to shop for spring clothes.”
“Can’t you order clothes online?” Lenny looked genuinely baffled. “That’s how I buy mine.”
I stifled a grin. Lenny had probably been ordering the same make and model of jeans since we’d been teenagers. “I looked online, but I find your Irish sizes confusing. I’d prefer to try on stuff.”
Lenny scratched his scraggly beard. “When were you planning to go? We could make a day of it. Maybe see if Julie wants to come with us.”
“Come with you where?” My cousin stood in the doorway of the Movie Theater Café’s tiny projector room, carrying a tray of cocktails. She’d pulled her wavy auburn hair into a loose bun tonight, drawing attention to the light dusting of freckles that brought color to her milky-white complexion. She raised the tray. “I thought you could do with a drink.”
“You were right.” I took two martini glasses and handed one to my aunt. “The projector is a bust,” I explained to Julie. “Lenny is taking it to the mainland next week for repairs, and I’m going to join him and go shopping. Want to come along?”
“If it’s a day I’m not working, sure. When were you thinking of going?”
“Thursday is the only day that’ll work for me,” Lenny said, taking a glass of lemonade from the tray. “I have to work every other day at my parents’ shop.”
Lenny’s parents ran Whisper Island’s one and only electronics store. In addition to working at the family store, Lenny supplemented his income by repairing computers on the side.
