Gráinne shot to her feet.
“I’m coming too,” Ann said, scrambling up.
“I need money.” Gráinne held her hand out to Siobhán.
“You don’t need money if it’s borrowed,” Siobhán said. Maybe all of their vocabulary needed a little work.
“Oh,” Gráinne said. “Right.”
“But you can get your allowance from the register and a little extra. You’ve earned it.” Gráinne and Ann flounced off for the register.
“Sure you can handle this crowd on your own?” James asked.
“No easier than handling you lot,” she joked back.
“I’ll stay,” Eoin said.
“Will ye now?” Paul teased. He could tell that Eoin was in love with Alice. Everyone was in love with Alice. At first, Siobhán had been jealous. Now she couldn’t imagine being her. Never getting a bit of peace. At least Ronan wasn’t anywhere around, for once.
“Is there anything I can get ye?” Siobhán asked the happy couple.
“We’re thrilled just to hide out here,” Paul said. “If that’s alright?”
“Of course.”
“We’re going to head to the abbey in an hour,” Alice said. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“Perfect,” Siobhán said. “Make yourselves at home. You deserve a rest.”
“Did you fetch our things?” Alice looked so hopeful.
“Your things are in your rooms back at the inn,” Siobhán said. “There’s a bit of news, but I’ll fill you in later.” She had no intention of breaking any more bad news. Not until she had had a bit of a rest herself.
“Lovely,” Alice said. “Thank you very much.”
“Not a bother.” Siobhán left the couple to themselves—and Eoin—and finished clearing off tables. The bistro was now closing, and Siobhán gently herded the remaining townsfolk out the door and turned over the CLOSED sign. Then she tucked the book of poisons behind the register. She wished Chris Gorden had opened a different kind of shop. Something a little more cheerful. Would her mam and dad have squashed the poison book straightaway, or would they have thought it was a normal part of being a lad? She went into the kitchen. Chef Antoine was standing at the cooker with Brian. They appeared to be in a heated argument.
“And now this,” Chef Antoine was saying. “Too many changes!”
“Just do it,” Brian said. He whirled around and brushed right past Siobhán and went out the swinging doors. Siobhán just looked at Antoine.
He sighed, took his hat off, and wiped his brow.
Siobhán offered a sympathetic smile. “What changes did Brian ask you to make?”
Chef Antoine raised a bushy eyebrow. “Just wedding details.” He shook his head as if perplexed by the whole business.
Siobhán wanted to push for more details, but she could tell Chef Antoine would stubbornly refuse to answer. Besides, she still needed to have a look at the items in her bag that she’d taken from Martin and Alice’s room, as well as the envelope of alibis. She liked Chef Antoine. She just couldn’t see him as the killer. Not that killers couldn’t be likable. But he was so obsessed with being a chef that she just didn’t picture him being distracted by anything else. Now, if Kevin had threatened his livelihood somehow—maybe. But that certainly hadn’t been the case. Siobhán threw one more thing at him before heading out the door. “Would ye at least help me weed out the herb garden when we get a free moment?” She smiled and blinked her eyes.
“That I will do,” he said, sounding genuinely thrilled. “We can hang herbs from the ceiling, no?”
Tears came to Siobhán’s eyes. “My mam used to do that.”
“Well, then,” Chef Antoine said with a smile, “we must do it too.”
Chapter 15
Siobhán hurried down the street to the field in front of the abbey, crossed over the timber bridge atop the Kilbane River, and stopped to gaze into the water. It was swollen from the recent lashing, and the grass was slick and shiny. She felt a moment’s peace, and who knew how long that would last? She dug into her handbag, diving past the crumpled balls of paper from Alice’s rubbish bin, and felt the slip of paper from Martin’s blazer. Where were the alibis? She checked once, twice, three times. Why did she carry such a big bag? But it wasn’t that big. The envelope with the alibis was gone.
So that was why she had been shoved down the stairs, and why they hadn’t bothered taking her handbag. They wanted the alibis. Why hadn’t she checked right away? She had been in shock, and in such a hurry. And then she’d completely forgotten, just assumed it was still there. Had the killer done this or someone else? The person could have killed her if he or she had wanted to. Siobhán hated to admit it, even to herself, but she had been extremely vulnerable. It would have been easy to follow her down the stairs and finish her off. But the person simply took the envelope out of her handbag and disappeared. What would they find in the alibis? Maybe nothing. Maybe a lie that would end up catching a killer? She’d had her chance to suss them out, and she’d completely blown it.
What was she going to tell Macdara and O’Brien now? She’d be forced to come clean or lie. But it wouldn’t be a little white lie this time. Not the kind of lie she could justify. From now on, she would examine any piece of evidence right away. Starting now, starting with Martin’s receipt. It was from Mike’s Market. Martin had purchased a newspaper, a breakfast biscuit, and juice. It was from the morning of Kevin’s murder. This was proof that Martin was in town checking out the walls, like he said he was. Why hadn’t he produced the receipt as an alibi? Perhaps he’d forgotten he had it? But it was the back of the receipt that interested Siobhán. In scratchy handwriting it read:
Don’t be late was heavily underlined. If the appointment had anything to do with the wedding, Brian would know. She thought back to his secret conversation with Susan under the passageway, and just recently with Antoine. Shipment. Permission. Was the receipt related? Siobhán would have to question Brian as soon as she could.
Next she dug out the three crumpled pieces of paper from Alice’s rubbish bin. She opened the first one.
Dear Paul,
I’m so sorry
Dear Father,
How could you?
Dear Paul,
Please forgive me. I cannot
Siobhán’s heart squeezed. So much for having the perfect life. How could you? What exactly had Colm done? Forgive me. Siobhán felt a pinch of shame for reading Alice’s private words. There was little difference between these notes and a diary. Maybe she was just writing down her fears and they didn’t mean anything.
Or maybe she had done something that needed forgiving.
This was the part she hated. Accusing everyone. Siobhán imagined that the rest of the crumpled letters in the bin were along the same lines. Letters Alice couldn’t finish and most likely never intended to send.
Even so. There had to be something to them. Were her father’s attempts to stop the wedding starting to work? Had Alice been writing a breakup letter to Paul? Was she having second thoughts about marrying Paul?
Siobhán shoved the notes back into her handbag and headed down the dirt path leading to the entrance of the monastery. The remains of the building and grounds were always a striking vision, the bell tower a welcome sight. The sun was starting to set, sending shards of sunlight beaming through the gaps in what remained of the monastery walls. Every time Siobhán was here, she could picture the monks going about their day, cooking, tending the grounds, brewing beer. If only she could go back in time. Then again, as a woman she would never have gained access to the comings and goings.
The monastery was made up of two stories. The ground floor held the church, the refractory, the kitchen, and the Tomb of the White Knight. The upper floor made up the monk’s dormitories, and a final set of stairs led to the bell tower. Although just the bones of the structure remained, there were still carved heads hidden in walls, gorgeous arches, recessed niches, and of course the remains of the five-light window, said to be the
most gorgeous in Ireland. She entered a hallway leading to the sections of the ground floor and could hear angry voices rising from the centre. Uh-oh, sounded like there was a row afoot.
She wound her way through until she reached the centre, which housed the Tomb of the White Knight. The friary was founded in 1291 by an ancestor of the White Knights, and the tomb was dedicated: To Edmund FitzJohn Fitzgibbon, the second to last of the White Knights. The slab of his tomb was broken in two, and dripping water had carved a small hollow in the gap. The imperfection of the tomb was said to be a sign of God’s displeasure at Edmund’s treatment of Catholics—he had been loyal to Queen Elizabeth I, daughter of Henry VIII. And of course it was Henry VIII who had ordered the dissolution of all monasteries in 1541. Ah, trouble and turbulent times, as then as it was now.
Susan and Colm Cahill were standing at opposite ends of the space, each with their arms crossed. Paul was sitting in a folding chair near the tomb where Alice was pacing back and forth. “It’s my wedding. Not yours. Mine.” She whirled on her mother.
“You’re paying for it, are you?” Susan said.
“No,” Alice said. “But neither are you. Daddy is.”
“How dare you? It’s our money.”
“That’s enough,” Colm said. “Bickering in this run-down eyesore like a couple of commoners.”
Run-down eyesore? Siobhán felt her temper flare. She suddenly wished they were all gone, the lot of ’em. She wanted to go back to life in the bistro and get started researching online universities. She should walk away from them right now. Walk away from the wedding, and the drama. And the killer.
Alice’s eyes flew to Siobhán, and she cried out. “Don’t listen to him. This is a very special place. We’re thrilled to have our wedding here.” Tears came into her eyes, and she was so tense Siobhán could almost see her vibrating. She threw her arms up. “I’m so happy,” she bawled. Paul looked as if he wanted to go and comfort her, then sank his head into his hands instead.
Siobhán glanced around. She was afraid if she didn’t choose her next words carefully, she’d send Alice plummeting off a cliff. “I’m glad you like it.”
Brian ran in, his sharp appearance for once somewhat askew. His tie was loosened, and his hair not as slick. “Some bird is dive-bombing the reception table.”
“I hardly think that’s reason to bother us,” Susan said. No sooner had the words come out of her mouth when a blur of black came whizzing down from the sky, headed directly for her head. She screamed and dropped to the ground as it did a flyby. Alice and Paul hurried to help Susan up. Colm watched from afar.
“It must have a nest of baby birds somewhere,” Siobhán said.
Colm began to pace, shaking his fist at the sky. “Find it and get rid of it!”
Siobhán clenched her jaw. Now, on top of everything else, she was expected to be some sort of bird wrangler. How entitled this man felt. Everyone was beneath him; everyone was put on earth to do his bidding.
“You don’t mean,” Brian said, “kill the baby birds?” He whispered the last bit.
“Of course not,” Siobhán said.
“Poison them,” Colm said.
“No!” Brian and Siobhán yelled simultaneously.
The bird swooped again, this time straight through the middle of the crowd, treating them to a warning cry. They parted and ducked.
“Let’s move out of the crypt for now,” Siobhán said. “Until we can get someone to find the nest and gently move it to a safer location.”
Everyone began to look up, scanning for a nest. “There are so many little crevices,” Brian said. “Hello, haystack. Got a needle?”
“Deal with it,” Alice said. “Just deal with it.”
Brian looked as if she had slapped him across the face. “Yes. Certainly,” he said, and then hurried away as the rest of the group moved out of the crypt and into the larger open space, where hopefully they would be safe from momma bird. The ever-changing Irish sky was now the color of a dusty pearl, the emerald grass was slick from the recent lashing, and the nearby river was having a chat with fishes and birds, answering their plops and caws with murmurs and gurgles. It would have been a lovely close to the matinee of the day if not for the company she was keeping.
Susan popped up in front of Siobhán, her face stretched like a violin string. “Are our things in our room?”
Siobhán couldn’t stall any longer. She took a step back. “I have some bad news.”
“Don’t tell us they found another body!” Colm shouted, sending his voice bouncing across the field.
“No, no. Of course not.”
“Did you get my ring?” Alice held out her hand and wiggled her fingers as if she expected Siobhán to place said ring on her finger.
“Your ring?” Siobhán felt the first vestiges of worry crawling up the back of her neck. What ring?
“My diamond ring. In mam and da’s room.” Alice fixed her eyes on Siobhán, who stared back. Alice stepped closer. “Right on the dresser.” Alice turned to her mother. “Isn’t that where you kept it?”
“Of course it is,” Susan said. “Surely you have the ring.” She fixed Siobhán with a laser stare.
“I’m sorry.” Siobhán’s palms grew slick, and her heart thudded with guilt as if she had been the one to raid the Cahills’ room. She suddenly understood why innocent people confessed to crimes. “I wasn’t able to pack up Susan and Colm’s room.”
“What?” Susan said. “You mean you didn’t bring our things?”
“This is outrageous,” Colm said. “Who’s your superior?”
Alice held up her hands. “Mam and Dad, would you let Siobhán speak?” Alice nodded as Siobhán. “Go on.”
“Someone ransacked your mam and da’s room.”
“What?” Susan shrieked.
“Everything was turned upside down. We had to tell the guards.”
“Of course you did,” Alice said. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Siobhán lowered her head. She should have told her earlier. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking forward to sharing more bad news.”
“I see,” Alice said. “I understand.” But her tone said otherwise. She definitely wouldn’t appreciate Siobhán going through her rubbish and reading her personal correspondences.
“After we discovered the room had been turned inside out, the guards wouldn’t let us touch anything. So I don’t know what was there and what wasn’t.”
“If someone broke into our room, of course they stole the ring,” Colm said.
“How could you let this happen?” Susan said.
“Me?” Siobhán said. “I wasn’t even at the castle when it happened.”
“That security guard,” Colm said. “He must be questioned and then fired.”
Alice lifted her head to the muted sky. “I’m cursed. My wedding is cursed.” A bird cawed in the distance.
“Don’t say that, darling,” Paul said, taking Alice by the hand. “We don’t need the ring to get married.”
“I need to talk to your mother,” Alice cried, pulling away from her groom-to-be. “I need to turn my luck around.”
The distinctive warning cry from the bird rang out, and it swooped again, sending everyone running farther out into the field. They stopped when they reached the river. The banks were starting to swell, as if mirroring the anger of the group. “See?” Alice shrieked. “Cursed!” She turned on her father. “Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?”
“You think I stole the ring? Perhaps bribed the bird to wreck havoc?” Colm said.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Alice said.
“My own mother’s ring?” Colm threw Paul a pointed look. Paul visibly winced.
“There you go again,” Alice said. “Putting down the man I love. In front of everyone. In front of me.”
Paul must have noticed confusion stamped on Siobhán’s face for he turned to her with an explanation. “I wanted to buy Alice an engagement ring. But she wanted her grandmother�
�s ring.”
“Because it’s so beautiful, and reminds me of her,” Alice said caressing her engagement finger.
“Because she knew Paul couldn’t afford one,” Colm said.
“Daddy,” Alice said, “when did you get to be this person?”
“Why don’t you just come out and say it?” Paul said. “I’m not good enough for your daughter.”
“You’re not good enough for our daughter,” Colm said.
“Daddy, please,” Alice begged.
Out of the corner of her eye, Siobhán caught sight of Macdara strolling across the field. Angry voices disrupted the private smile she shared with him. She had actually tuned Colm and Paul out for a second, but they were still hollering at each other. Paul set his jaw and curled his fists. Alice flung herself at her groom-to-be as if her touch could diffuse his anger. Macdara immediately assessed the tension and physically stepped between the posturing men. When they each took a step back, he turned to Siobhán. “What’s the story?”
Siobhán swallowed and turned to face the Cahills. “Susan and Colm’s room has been ransacked.”
Alice cried out. “Someone stole my diamond ring.”
“There’s a bird dive-bombing the abbey,” Brian cried. Apparently, everyone was ready to unburden themselves.
“This godforsaken village!” Colm said, clenching his fist and raising it to the sky.
Siobhán couldn’t have felt worse. “We don’t know for sure if the ring has been stolen.”
“Of course they were after the ring,” Susan said. “What else?”
“I’ll call the guards at once,” Macdara said. “See what I can find out.” He stared at Siobhán. “Anything else?”
Ronan is obsessed with Alice. Alice may have second thoughts about marrying Paul. Martin is sneaking out to meet someone in Limerick at half nine in the morning on Friday. The killer could have climbed a tree, but probably didn’t. Somebody shoved me down a flight of stairs and stole the alibis. Ciarán is an orphan obsessed with poison, and I hate your mam. “No,” Siobhán said. “Nothing else.”
Murder at an Irish Wedding Page 13
