A knight in shining armor stood next to the gold and marble fireplace, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase dominated the wall in back of the piano, and another glittering chandelier hovered above the large Persian rug laid out on the stone floor. Siobhán couldn’t help but feel sorry for anyone who lived in this castle. She much preferred her cozy, comfortable bistro. Home should be like a soft cushion to fall upon at the end of a hard day.
“We’d better not dally.” Val crossed through to the pocket doors. The transom above them held a stained-glass window that appeared to be a family crest. Every new detail of the castle filled Siobhán with wonder. Oh, she could only imagine the fascinating owners the castle had housed over the years, the least of which, in her opinion, were the Huntsmans. She couldn’t believe they had just abandoned the castle. There were too many questions they needed to answer. Val was already ascending the right-hand staircase. Siobhán had an urge to take the left and beat him to the top. One person could be going up one staircase while another was coming down the other, and if it was timed just right, they might not even be aware of one another. Just like Kevin might not have been aware of someone coming up the hill.
When he reached the top of the stairs, Val flicked on another set of lights. Faded rose-colored wallpaper and sconces lined the hallways. Siobhán hurried up the stairs, not wanting to fall behind. As she did, she tried to imagine Kevin walking down these steps the last morning of his life. What was he thinking about? Who was he going to meet? When they reached the first landing, Siobhán stopped and looked left and right. “Should we start with Kevin’s room?”
“The victim?” Val sounded thoroughly shocked. “His room isn’t to be touched.”
Siobhán thought as much, but she kept trying. “I assumed they’d want his things packed up as well.”
“No.” Val’s eyes flicked to the closed door as if he was half afraid of it.
“I wonder why they won’t turn over the hotel key.” Siobhán kept her voice light and casual.
“What key?”
“There must have been a room key found in one of Kevin’s pockets.”
A know-it-all grin broke out on Val’s chubby face. “Why, his pockets were completely empty, Ms. Detective.”
“He’d been robbed?” Siobhán slipped and didn’t disguise the surprise in her voice.
Val clamped his lips shut, then realized he’d been tricked into letting that tidbit slip and glared at her. “And you said there wasn’t a robber in the village.”
“Do you smoke?”
If the abrupt change in conversation startled Val, he didn’t let on. He stood taller. “Never touched me lips.”
“Good on ye. Do you know anyone around the castle who smokes Newtons?”
“Funny you should say that. The old guy does.”
“Which one?”
“The one that was having a walkabout the morning they found the body.”
Martin Donnelly. “How do you know?”
Val sighed. “He said he was down to his last two. Asked if I knew where he could buy a new packet.”
“When was this?” If it was the morning of the murder, that could be a definite clue. It meant Martin had been in the woods, not heading for Kilbane as he had said.
“The very first day they arrived,” Val said.
So the packet may have been dropped Tuesday and not Wednesday. And as offensive as Siobhán found it to mar the beauty of the woods with trash, the difference between litterer and murderer encompassed more than just a few letters. Still. Just because she couldn’t prove what day Martin dropped it didn’t mean she couldn’t confront him about it. If he had dropped it the morning of the murder, perhaps she’d be able to suss it out from his reaction.
Val was growing impatient. He crossed to the door directly across from Kevin’s. “The maid of honor,” he announced as he opened the door to Brenna’s room.
It was of modest size, with faded rose wallpaper, decorative crown molding, and a four-poster bed. It was stripped of all sheets. A garment bag and suitcase lay on the bed. The nightstand drawers were empty and open. But that’s where the tidiness ended. Brenna’s clothes were strewn everywhere. Thrown over chairs, heaped on the bed, dangling every which way from hangers in the closet. If she hadn’t have already met Brenna, she might have wondered if the room had been ransacked.
Val began taking clothes out of the closet and throwing them into the suitcase.
“Stop,” Siobhán said. “I’m supposed to do that.”
“Then why aren’t ye?” He was trying to hurry her along.
“She’s not going to be happy if she finds out your paws have been all over her delicates,” Siobhán said.
His pale Irish skin flushed scarlet, and he stepped back to the door. “From what I hear, she might not mind.” He mumbled it, but Siobhán caught it clear as day. So he had been keeping his ear to the ground. And it sounded as if the guards knew that Kevin had spent the night in here. At least they were making progress. What had Kevin stolen from Brenna? Looking around, it was hard to imagine he’d want anything from her room. Siobhán slid her hand into every piece of clothing of Brenna’s that had a pocket. She found nothing.
“Where are her personal effects?” Siobhán asked when all the clothes had been folded or hung.
“Like what?”
“Makeup, toiletries, letters.”
“Letters?”
It had occurred to Siobhán that the red ribbon could have been tied around a letter. Was it a love letter? “Books? Notes? What did she have on the nightstand or in the drawers?” Siobhán pointed to the empty drawers.
“The guards have taken some possessions out of each guest’s rooms. They’ll get them back when the investigation has concluded.”
Shoot. So this was just going to be a regular errand. She wanted to look under the bed and lift the throw rug, but the lad was staring at her. Besides, it appeared as if the guards had been quite thorough.
Val came forward and picked up the luggage bag. “We’re to place each suitcase, box, and garment bag outside the door to each guest room. The guards will load them into the limo.” Siobhán nodded, but she really had her mind on the mattress. If anyone seemed like the type who would hide things under the mattress, it was Brenna. The minute Val was outside the door with the luggage, Siobhán lifted the mattress and began to feel around underneath. Once more, she found nothing. Then she dropped to the floor and peered under the bed. She had to wait for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she was disappointed. Barely more than a few flecks of dust.
Suddenly she felt a firm grip her arm. Val seized her and hauled her up. She was so startled, and his grip so tight, that for a moment she forgot to breathe.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He’d gone from harmless to hateful in a matter of seconds, and his previously jovial voice was now laced with a murderous rage. Maybe the suspects weren’t just limited to the wedding guests. Maybe someone had better take a second look at the baby-faced security guard.
Chapter 13
The minute Siobhán was upright, and glaring, Val dropped her arm and stepped back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You had no right to manhandle me.” She rubbed her arm where he had grabbed her.
He cocked his head and studied her for moment, then looked away. “Let’s move on.” So much for an apology. Siobhán hugged her handbag to her side. If he touched her like that again, she was going to text Macdara. Was she alone in a deserted castle with a killer? He was already walking ahead; for him the incident was entirely forgotten. It enraged her even more.
He came to a halt in front of a door. “Faye and Martin Donnelly.” He opened it and gestured for her to go in first. She didn’t like turning her back to him. She felt around for the light switch and flipped it on as fast as possible. As if he wouldn’t have the guts to kill her when the lights were on.
Like in Brenna’s room, the sheets had been stripped, and the bedside drawers were empty and open. Why had th
e guards been specifically looking through the drawers? She had a sneaking suspicion they’d been searching for the contents of Kevin’s pockets. Find his things, you find his murderer. Siobhán could hardly imagine the killer being dense enough to hide Kevin’s belongings in his or her room, but she understood the guards had to at least give it a go. Surely if they had they found anything, they would have arrested someone by now.
Compared with Brenna, the Donnellys had a lot less clothing even between two of them, and everything was perfectly hung or folded. It took no time at all to get them into the suitcase and garment bags. But this time, dipping her hand into one of Martin Donnelly’s pockets revealed a folded piece of paper. Siobhán’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. There was nothing more intoxicating than an unread note. There was no time to examine it or Val would catch on. She shoved it in her handbag, then turned to look at the jacks. The bathroom was completely bare. Not even a toothbrush lay on the counter.
“All the bathrooms have been stripped of belongings?”
Val nodded. “They can buy new toiletries in town.”
“But what did the guards want with everyone’s toothbrush?” DNA? She wanted to talk to them so bad.
Val cocked his head and studied her. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” His voice was laced with disdain. Perhaps all those years of working for the Huntsmans had soured his view of the residents of Kilbane. The dislike was mutual.
“We all have the capacity to be clever,” Siobhán said. “Some of us just choose to use it.” They fell into a silent rhythm as they went from room to room. Ronan had the fewest clothes, and what he did own was black. His bathroom door was closed. She went to open it.
“Don’t,” Val yelled, but it was too late; she’d already flung it open and flipped on the lights.
“I said don’t!” Val came up from behind. “I clearly said, ‘Don’t.’”
Photographs of Alice covered every inch of the bathroom walls. A close-up of her lips. Alice walking across the field. Alice holding a flower. Alice brushing a strand of hair away from her mouth. Alice kneeling down by the garden. Alice laughing. Alice with a wounded look on her face. That was the only photo that included another person. In it the back of a man could be seen in a distance, and Alice was watching him. Colm Cahill, Siobhán was sure of it. Siobhán stepped closer. Alice appeared to be standing near the gardens in the back of the castle, and Ronan had obviously caught her in a painful moment. Colm glared at her in the background, and Alice wore the wounded expression of a child abandoned in a crowd. Had they just gotten in a row?
“Heavens,” Siobhán said. This certainly put Ronan in a suspicious light. Had Alice inadvertently hired her stalker? Was it possible that Kevin had discovered Ronan’s obsession with Alice? Had he confronted him? Threatened to tell Colm or Paul? Perhaps Kevin had even tried to extort him. After all, Ronan had been given five thousand euros for the smashed camera. Imagine Kevin doing the damage and then having the nerve to ask for the money that was supposed to replace it. That could certainly push a man to murder. Especially a man as intense and odd as the likes of Ronan. But she was just speculating, spinning her wheels. There was no proof Kevin tried to steal Ronan’s money after smashing his camera. Macdara was right; Siobhán had to be very careful about jumping to conclusions. Still, the pictures spoke for themselves. Ronan was obsessed with Alice Cahill.
“I told you not to open it.” Val’s voice was hard and threatening.
Siobhán continued to stare at the pictures. “She doesn’t look like she’s aware that he’s following her every move.”
“You can’t say anything to her.”
“Why not? He’s clearly obsessed. She should know.”
“The guards are watching him. Do not interfere.”
“You mean they’re using Alice as bait?” Siobhán cried.
“No one is going to harm a hair on her head,” Val said. “We’re watching her.”
If Ronan was so enamored of Alice, you would have thought he would have wanted to kill Paul. Not that Ronan stood a romantic chance with Alice, but who knew what was going on in his unhinged mind? Jealousy could have driven him to murder. But he didn’t go after Paul. Unless . . .
Everyone looked alike in those tracksuits. She’d heard several people make the same comment. What if Kevin wasn’t the intended victim? Both Colm Cahill and Paul Donnelly were the same height as Kevin. Not to mention Macdara. From behind, in the darkness of the woods—smashing someone in the back of the head—
Had the killer struck his intended victim, or was it a case of mistaken identity? If the wrong man had been killed, was the killer waiting to strike again? Was Ronan the murderer? A madman in love with Alice? Could Paul’s life be in danger? Or even more terrifying—Macdara’s?
“I need to speak with the guards,” Siobhán said.
“No. You need to clear the rooms.” Val opened the next room. The minute Siobhán saw a suit with a pocket square, she knew they were in Brian’s room. His was the neatest by far, with all of his garments organized by color. His room was the quickest to pack, and she didn’t find anything of significance. It was hard to get a read on that Brian. It could be said that people who had everything under control were hiding something. What effort it must take to be so perfect all the time. Siobhán always found imperfect things to be the most attractive. Like Macdara’s lopsided grin.
She sighed. “Who’s next?” She was eager to get this over with and speak with Macdara about everything she’d learned. If Kevin wasn’t the intended victim, that changed everything.
“Colm and Susan Cahill.” He opened the door and immediately cried out. “My God!”
When she finally edged her way in, Siobhán saw a tornado of clothing on the floor. The drawers weren’t just empty, they were completely out of the nightstand and turned upside down. The mattress was overturned. This wasn’t the work of the guards. She was so stunned, she barely had time to register another odd site. The room had two separate beds. Had the Cahills requested that? Was their marriage troubled? Or had married life simply drained all the passion out of the pair?
Siobhán grabbed Val’s arm this time. “Who had access to the room?”
“No one,” Val said. “Just the guards.”
And you. “And the Huntsmans.” Except they hightailed it out of town. Or had they? If anyone could have snuck back into the castle, it was them. There were probably loads of secret passageways.
“You have a key,” Siobhán said.
Val looked genuinely offended. “Me?”
“I’m just saying.”
“Out. Out. I have to call the detective sergeant.” He began backing her out of the room.
“Susan and Colm Cahill will demand their things.”
“We’re not touching anything. I’m calling the guards.” He maneuvered her out into the hall and then shut and locked their door. He removed his mobile from his back pocket and was about to dial when Siobhán stepped in.
“We should check Alice and Paul’s room first.” He glanced at her, then looked at his phone, undecided. “They’ll want to know if anyone else’s room has been ransacked. Do you want to tell them we didn’t bother to check?”
He shook his head, then looked left and right. “Their rooms are one floor above, and they’re at opposite ends of the floor.”
“Give me the key to Alice’s room while you check Paul’s,” she said. “Come on. There’s no time to waste.”
He hesitated, then slipped a key off the ring. “Don’t pack or touch anything. Just see if it’s been tossed.”
She headed toward the stairwell on the left, while Val hurried down the hall to the opposite end. Siobhán jogged up the long stairway. She had only four more steps to go when the lights flickered and then extinguished, plummeting Siobhán into the pitch dark. She grabbed the railing and felt for the stair with her foot. Instead she came into contact with something solid, yet not hard. Like a human leg. She made the connection just as she heard a loud grunt. A figu
re towered over her in the dark. Hands clamped down on her shoulders, and she screamed. Her handbag was ripped away, and a hand pressed hard against her chest and pushed.
Siobhán’s stocking feet slipped on the stair treads, and her body hurtled backward despite her mind screaming for it to stop. She was airborne, free-falling for several terrifying seconds. She landed with a thud on the hard steps, first the back of her skull, then her back, and bottom. She slid down the last several stairs before coming to a stop on the cold stone tiles at the base. She hadn’t so much as screamed; all the wind had literally been knocked out of her. For a few seconds,she lay at the bottom of the stairwell as her heart pounded in her chest, terrified to move and find out that she was paralyzed or had broken bones. Tears pooled in her eyes.
Stupid, stupid, stupid lass. Who goes around a castle in stocking feet? Then again, who viciously pushes another human being down a dark stairwell? A killer, that’s who.
She took a shallow breath and would have been ashamed if anyone ever found out that, in this moment, every part of her cried out for her mam. All she wanted was to be pulled in by her soft arms and wrapped in a hug. She should have gone clothes shopping with her brood. She didn’t need this. Waves of pain rippled through her as she tried to take deep breaths and calm her nerves. Her handbag. She pawed around in the dark even though she knew. The person at the top of the stairs had ripped it from her arms. Her handbag was gone.
Slowly, slowy, slowy, she sat up. Then came to her feet. The lights flickered back on with a hiss and a pop. Someone had deliberately cut the power just as she was coming up the stairs. Anger surged through her, giving her the jolt of bravery she needed to move. Siobhán stared up to the landing to see if she could make out a figure on the floor above. But she saw no one. She gripped the bannister. She should turn around, call the guards, or yell for Val. What if the person who shoved her was just waiting to do it again? Or what if they decided to come down for her, finish what they’d started? Fear buzzed around her like an army of wasps, and she nearly turned and ran. Then fury set in, and before it vanished, she used the anger to surge back up the stairs. They weren’t going to get away with this. With each step, her heart hammered louder in her chest. When she reached the top this time, she was stunned to see her handbag sitting on the landing.
Murder at an Irish Wedding Page 11
