by Zara Keane
By six that evening, I was, to quote my Irish relations, wall-falling tired and more than a little drunk. Philomena and Julie poured me into a taxi and gave the driver directions to Shamrock Cottages. When I’d finished fastening my seat belt, the taxi driver, who was used to St. Patrick’s Day debauchery, handed me a plastic bucket.
I squinted at it. For some reason, I was having problems seeing straight. Maybe that fifth Leprechaun’s Gold cocktail had been a bad idea after all. “It’s green,” I said redundantly. “You’re getting into the festive spirit.”
“I came prepared,” he said with a grin. “This is my seventeenth time working on St. Patrick’s Day.”
I must have nodded off during the drive from Smuggler’s Cove back to my cottage, for I suddenly found myself being hauled out of the taxi by the driver and propped up on my doorstep. “Are you all right to get in, love?” he asked.
“Definitely.” I reached for my purse and, on the third attempt, succeeded in counting out the correct fare plus tip.
The taxi screeched off into the night. I struggled to my feet and wrestled the key out of my purse. All I wanted to do was have a bath and fall into bed. Maybe not in that order.
I’d just inserted the key in the lock when my senses alerted me that I wasn’t alone. I whirled around and scanned my surroundings. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
A shadow emerged from between two of the empty cottages. Lisa from the hotel walked up to me, hollow-cheeked and red-eyed. I sobered up immediately. “What’s wrong?”
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “May I come in? I need to talk to you, Maggie.”
I blinked past my surprise and pushed open the door to my cottage. “Sure. Come on in. Can I offer you a coffee? I could do with one.” Especially if I needed to sober up and concentrate.
“I’d love a coffee.” Lisa followed me into my small kitchen and sat in silence at the table while I fixed a frothy cappuccino for her and a strong black coffee for me. Bran raced from the living room to sniff our guest but judged her unworthy of his interest. He lay beside my chair and settled his face on his paws.
“So,” I said, sliding our coffees onto the table and taking a seat. “What’s going on?”
She slid her gum to the other cheek. “I heard you arrested Jack.”
“News travels fast,” I said, taking a sip from my mug. “And I didn’t arrest Jack. That was the police.”
“Well, you apprehended him. That’s what people are saying.” Lisa wound the tissue around her hands in a nervous gesture that I doubted she was aware of making.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why do you care about Jack being arrested? I’d have thought you’d be more concerned about Marcus. Isn’t he your friend?”
“I don’t care about Marcus.” She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s Jack I’m worried about. He and I were…close…and I’m afraid he might say something about me that could be misconstrued.” She twisted her lips into a bitter Cupid’s bow. “He was upset when I broke up with him. It would be like him to be vindictive.”
I cast my mind back to the night in Murphy’s Pub when I’d seen an uncomfortable exchange between Lisa and Jack. “Jack was your lover?”
Lisa bowed her head with the grace and piety of a martyr. “Yes. He didn’t mention it to you?”
“Well, no. Buying a useless car from Jack was the extent of our relationship.”
“I wasn’t sure. I know you’re friends with his cousin and close to his grandfather.”
Even my alcohol fuddled brain recognized when someone was fishing. Okay, Ms. Lisa. Two can play at that game. “Are you still involved with Jack?”
She shook her head. “That ended years ago. You know by now that he was a crook in Berlin. We met when I was working there.”
“Do the Logans know you and Jack were an item? More importantly, does Carl know?”
Lisa reared back. “Goodness, no. He’d be horrified.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
She bit her lip. “Because I need your help. I’m worried Jack will try to blame me for the murder. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s shoved the blame onto someone else. Sergeant Reynolds trusts your opinion.”
“Alex Scheffel,” I said, shifting the pieces into place. “Jack let him take the fall for the diamond robbery in Berlin.”
Lisa nodded. “Alex was a minor player. All he did was trail a diamond dealer who was staying at the hotel where he worked.”
“Were you also working at the hotel?”
Lisa frowned. “Oh, no. I was a pharmacy assistant at an English-language pharmacy in the center of Berlin. The position at the Whisper Island Hotel is my first job as a receptionist. They hired me because I’m good with languages.”
The coffee in my mouth suddenly tasted bitter. A pharmacy assistant would know the effects of sodium nitroprusside. But how did Lisa get hold of the vial that went missing from the Whisper Island Medical Centre? Wait…hadn’t Mack mentioned a blond woman was among the patients in the waiting room on the day he made the delivery? He hadn’t known her name, but he’d said she was about our age. Lisa wore a lot of makeup, but I judged her to be no more than a couple years my senior.
“Tell me more about this diamond robbery,” I said to buy time. “What role did Scheffel play?”
“None beyond supplying Jack with the information about where the diamond deal was to take place. Jack and his gang arranged the robbery. They knew Alex would squeal the moment the police caught up with him, so it was either kill him or frame him.”
“And Jack opted to frame him.” I leaned back in my chair and regarded the woman across from me. She flinched under my scrutiny and reached for another piece of gum. When she pulled the package from her purse, I sucked air through my teeth. It was the brand of gum that I’d seen on the passenger seat of the postal van. It might mean nothing, but could Lisa’s be among the jumble of prints forensics had found in the van? If she had no police record, her prints wouldn’t be in the system. I glanced down at Bran. His eyes were closed and he began to snore. While I was sitting here with a killer, the dog my aunt had insisted would protect me snoozed at my feet. Some guard dog you’ve turned out to be, buster.
“Why do you think Jack will try to frame you?” My palms were sweaty as I slipped my phone out of my pocket under the table with one hand, while I faux-casually held my coffee mug with the other. I hit Mack’s number and paused. Would Mack know who Lisa was? Even if he’d seen her at the Whisper Island Medical Centre the day he made the delivery of pharmacy supplies, would he be able to put a face to a name? No, I wasn’t thinking clearly. Mack could wait. I needed to contact Reynolds.
“Jack always tries to frame someone for his crimes. Fool that I was, I came to Whisper Island in the hope that Jack and I would reunite.” Lisa gave a delicate sniff. “When I saw that wasn’t going to happen, I got together with Carl. The marriage was doomed before it ever began. I didn’t love Carl, and he figured out pretty quickly that there was someone else, but he never found out it was Jack.”
I leaned back in my chair and snuck a glance at my phone’s display. I opened a new message to Reynolds and hit record. “Lisa, did you help Jack arrange Alex Scheffel’s murder?”
She reared back as though I’d struck her, and a hand fluttered to her neck. “Of course not.”
“You’re going to have to work harder than that if you want to convince me.” I hit send and prayed that Reynolds would check his phone soon and get his behind back to Shamrock Cottages in time to save me from the psycho sitting across from me. I switched my phone to silent in case he tried to call me. Sure enough, the display flashed with an incoming call a moment later. I hit the green button and focused on Lisa. Please let Reynolds have the sense to stay silent.
“I’m going to ask you again. Did you kill Alex Scheffel?”
No sound from Reynolds, but the call was still connected. A message flashed.
I’m on the way. Keep her talking.
“I came
here to talk to you because I was afraid Jack would try to push the blame onto me. I thought you’d understand the position I’m in.” Tears glistened in her eyes, unshed. “He’s pressured me from the moment I came to the island. It’s because of him that my marriage to Carl failed.”
“Jack doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type. I’d peg him as the use-’em-and-loose-’em kind of guy. Why would he care if you hooked up with his cousin?”
Lisa bristled and a hint of anger flashed in her cold gray eyes. She was a cool customer, but underneath that controlled exterior lay a red-hot temper. Somehow, Alex Scheffel had aroused her anger and she’d poisoned him. But why? What did Scheffel have on Lisa for her to want him dead?
I took a deep breath. “Lisa, if you want me to help you, I need you to be honest with me. What did Jack pressure you to do that he can use as leverage against you?”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but after a pause, she took the bait. “He asked me to get Carl’s knife from the hotel kitchen. I didn’t know what he wanted it for.”
My chest swelled and I struggled to keep my breathing even. The news of the doctored surveillance footage hadn’t been released to the public. Only the police, Zuzanna, her boyfriend, Lenny, Julie, and I knew about it. A lot of people, sure, but none of us were close to Lisa, so there was a strong chance that she had no idea I knew Marcus was the one who’d stolen Carl’s knife.
“When did you take it? On the night of the murder?”
She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t working that night. I snuck into the kitchen during my morning shift and stole it then.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire. I kept a straight face. If Lisa wanted to drop a hint about how she’d inadvertently helped Jack to murder Alex Scheffel, she’d chosen the wrong clue to drop. I recognized bait and switch when I saw it, and that was totally what Lisa was trying to do. By telling me she’d taken the knife, a weapon that had not actually killed the murder victim, she was hoping no one would connect her with the sodium nitroprusside that was the true cause of death.
Lisa widened her eyes. “So will you help me, Maggie? I’m desperate.”
Desperate…the one true word she’d spoken during our entire conversation. Yeah, I’d help her…all the way to the police station. Which, if my hunch was right, was exactly where Lisa wanted to go.
I cast her my most understanding cop look. “Sure I’ll help, but you need to come to the station with me now and talk to Sergeant Reynolds. You have no need to worry about Jack. He’s in custody.”
And so was the box of diamonds that I was pretty sure my unexpected guest wanted to steal. I’d watched Reynolds lock them in the police station’s safe. How did Lisa intend to get to them? I glanced at her purse and swallowed hard when I saw a telltale pistol-shaped bulge. Yeah, a gun would do the trick, especially in Ireland where most cops didn’t carry firearms. I knew from a previous case that the police on Whisper Island had none.
The woman blinked back fake tears. “Thank you, Maggie. I’ve been so frightened. It’s a relief to get this off my chest.”
She stood up and looked at me expectantly.
I sat frozen, and the phone in my lap burned an imaginary hole in my pants.
At the sound of Lisa getting ready to leave, Bran leaped to his feet and knocked against my leg. As if in slow motion, my phone slid from my lap and tumbled to the ground.
Please land face down. Please, please…ugh.
My heart slamming against my ribs, I stared down at the glowing display that showed my phone was currently on a call with Liam Reynolds. A horrible silence descended over the kitchen for one tense second. Then, with a hiss, Lisa pounced on my phone and disconnected the call from Reynolds.
“You contacted the police?” she snarled. “They were listening in all this time?”
Slowly, I got to my feet and inched my way to the back door.
“Don’t even think about it.” Lisa whipped the pistol out of her purse and aimed it at my heart.
I tasted bile. How long would it take for Reynolds to reach me? Another fifteen minutes? If Lisa had her way, I’d be dead before then. “You wanted me to go with you to the station to find the diamonds. Why did you need me?”
“Why do you think, you fool? I needed a hostage so that the police would give me the diamonds and let me off the island.”
I stared at her, genuinely perplexed. “You could have used anyone to be your hostage. Why pick me? You must have waited for me to get back from town. Why go to all that trouble when you could have used someone else?”
She sneered at me. “You might have brains, Maggie Doyle, but you have no common sense. I needed someone Liam Reynolds cares about. Someone he’d lose his cool to protect.”
“But Liam and I are not an item. We live next door, but that’s it.” Now who’s the liar, Maggie?
Lisa’s laugh was as sharp as shards of broken glass. “I know men. I saw the way he looked at you today when you caught Jack.”
My head jerked up. “You were there?”
“Oh, yes. I was one of the runners. I saw the whole thing.” Lisa jutted her chin and her pretty face twisted into a scornful expression. “I watched you and your flabby bottom chasing after Jack, and him desperately trying to conceal the box. And Reynolds putting the diamonds—my diamonds—into the police car.”
I ignored the insult about my behind and focused on solving the mystery—and saving my life. The fire extinguisher was beside the back door. If I could only get to it… “Did Jack hold out on you? Did he not give you your fair share of the loot?”
She snorted. “Do you honestly think Jack would have thought to hide the diamonds in a tourist attraction that gets trampled over all year round? Burying them in the beehive hut was my idea.” Her jaw tightened. “The snake must have followed me to find out where I’d stashed the box.”
I took a deep breath and sidled toward the back door. Two more feet… I stretched out my arm.
“Stop right there.” Fury suffused Lisa’s face, turning it into a contorted mask. “I’m the one in charge here. I say when—”
The front door opened with a crash. On instinct, Lisa whirled around, forgetting to keep the gun aimed at me. Amateur hour.
I darted to the back door, grabbed the fire extinguisher, and charged at my wannabe killer. We fell to the floor in a screaming heap at the precise moment my unexpected visitor barged into the kitchen.
An orange-haired, green-bearded Lenny stared down at us from under an enormous leprechaun hat. “Hey, dudes. What’s up?”
25
Lenny’s dramatic appearance, in every sense of the word, distracted Lisa sufficiently for me to prize the pistol out of her talons and hurl it across the kitchen.
“You bitch,” she screeched and scratched me with her long nails.
“Whoa, dude. Not cool.” Lenny lurched sideways, showing me that he’d had as much to drink as I had.
I whacked Lisa on the arm with the fire extinguisher and she screamed in pain. She fought me like a wildcat, clawing and pulling hair.
“If you have a weapon about you, Lenny,” I said through gritted teeth as Lisa clawed at my eyes, “now’s the time to use it.”
My friend considered this for a moment and then his face lit up. “Man, I got just the thing.”
With the speed and dexterity of a Wild West gunslinger, Lenny pulled two cans of glitter spray out of his backpack, popped the lids and let loose.
Lisa screamed when the spray hit her face. In a glitter-filled haze, I rolled out from under her and struggled to my feet. Blinking through my glittered eyelashes, I staggered over to the spot the pistol had landed and picked it up.
Breathing hard, I aimed it at Lisa through blurred vision. As long as she stayed writhing on the floor, there was a good chance my shot wouldn’t go astray. “We need a rope to tie her up,” I wheezed.
Lenny, also coughing, nodded and pulled off his crazy hat. “We can use my leprechaun legs.”
A laugh bubbled up my throat. “Go fo
r it, buddy.”
When Liam Reynolds ran into my kitchen five minutes later, he found a trussed up killer covered in glitter with her feet bound with leprechaun legs and her wrists tied with Bran’s leash.
“Yo, dude,” Lenny drawled. “Have you come to join the fun?”
Reynolds took a step back at the sight of us. “Please tell me you two took a taxi. I can smell the alcohol fumes from here.”
“Of course,” I said confidently, not at all sure how Lenny had arranged transportation from Smuggler’s Cove to my cottage.
“Granddad gave me a lift,” Lenny supplied, beaming. “Julie told me Maggie had gone home early, and that just won’t do on her first St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland.” He reached down and pulled several more cans of glitter spray from his backpack and a bottle of Gerry Logan’s infamous poteen, dyed green for the occasion.
“Oh, no,” I groaned. “No more alcohol. The only drink I’m fixing is coffee.”
Liam handcuffed Lisa and hauled her to her feet. “Have an espresso toast for me, Maggie. With the station cells full to bursting, I don’t think I’ll be home anytime soon.”
After the drama and the excess alcohol, I slept like a rock. When I rolled out of bed the next morning, I had less of a hangover than I deserved, but I still hadn’t felt this lousy since spring break my freshman year of college. After an extra-long shower, I dragged myself into the kitchen and fixed an extra-large, extra-strong coffee to match. I’d just taken a seat at the kitchen table when my doorbell rang.
I managed to place my mug on the table without spilling its contents—a major win in my shaky condition—and staggered to the front door. I remembered that I was still wearing my bathrobe the instant I opened the door.
Reynolds stood on my doorstep carrying a paper bag bearing the Movie Theater Café’s logo. “Whoa, Maggie. You look like I feel. What happened to your hair?”
