by Zara Keane
“Yeah,” Ronan said. Kyle tossed him the drink, and both boys disappeared back into the living room.
After they left with the drinks, Olivia poured herself a large glass of water and massaged her throbbing temples. In an attempt to restore family harmony, her grandfather had gathered the clan for lunch on the Sunday after the funeral. The reading of Aidan’s will had revealed that while Aidan had very little money in his own name, the small holiday house he owned in Cobh was mortgage-free and now belonged to Olivia. She couldn’t do anything with it until probate ended. Once that occurred, she’d planned to sell the house and use the money to buy another in Ballybeg, one large enough to accommodate her brothers, should they wish to live with her. Which, apparently, they did not.
Her grandfather slipped into the kitchen and closed the door. “Not exactly the Sunday lunch I’d envisioned. Too soon after the funeral?”
Olivia bent down to pet Jasper and give him some leftovers. These he consumed with gusto. “Perhaps.”
“I take it the boys didn’t respond well to your offer of an alternative home.”
“No. I was sure they’d be delighted.” Her stomach twisted at the memory of their mockery. “I thought I was rescuing them, but it turns out they don’t want to be rescued.”
“They’re teenagers. Jim and Victoria aren’t the most responsible, but they’re not mistreating the boys. The boys, I suspect, rather enjoy the freedom that comes with having absent-minded and self-absorbed parents.”
“I was certain they’d jump at the chance to live with me. It was part of my plan to escape Aidan.”
“I know I’m just a doddery old man, but I’ve lived a long while.”
“Hardly doddery, Granddad. You’re fit as a fiddle. I want you to stay that way for many more years.”
“I hope so, my dear,” he said with a small smile. “As for your brothers, don’t you think you used the idea of the boys needing rescuing to motivate yourself to leave Aidan? It’s often easier to fight for those we love than for ourselves.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” She gave a little laugh. “You should have become a psychologist, Granddad.”
“I have no patience. I’m much better at barking orders at people. The army was perfect for me.” He regarded her with concern in his eyes. “How are you coping at the café? With the rumors, I mean.”
She shrugged. “There’s little I can do to stop them. Until and unless the police arrest someone for the murder, they’ll continue. I heard what you did, by the way. Sticking up for me in the supermarket. Bridie mentioned it to Fiona.”
“Ah.” A faint pink tinged his cheeks.
“Thanks, Granddad, but don’t feel you need to defend me every time some eejit makes a remark.”
“A disparaging remark, Olivia. You’re my granddaughter. I will always defend you against vicious rumors and vile accusations.”
His words brought tears to her eyes. On impulse, she kissed his warm, wrinkled cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, my dear.” He paused in his task of polishing the wine glasses. “There are a couple of topics I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.” He fished in his trousers’ pockets before extracting a neatly folded piece of paper. “First, here’s the number of a barrister in Cork. He specializes in criminal cases. I think you should give him a call and make an appointment. If there are any fees to be paid, send me the bill. You deserve the best legal representation money can buy.”
“It’s kind of you, but don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? I have a solicitor, and she seems to be doing her job.”
“I wish I could be as optimistic,” he said grimly. Then, catching her stricken expression, “No, I know you didn’t do it, dear, but the justice system doesn’t always favor the innocent. I think you should talk to this man before the police come knocking on your door. Know your rights ahead of time.”
Tears stung her eyes, making her blink. “The police aren’t even looking for anyone other than me and Jonas. That’s what frustrates me the most. They’ve already decided we’re guilty, and now they’re just trying to figure out how they can stitch us up.” The longer the police focused on them as the sole suspects, the harder it was to envisage a future with Jonas. Over the past few months, she’d grown used to having him next door, had enjoyed rekindling their former friendship and reigniting the spark between them. For the first time in years, she was happy. The idea of that happiness evaporating terrified her.
“I’m sure the police are exploring many roads of enquiry,” her grandfather said. “If they weren’t, they’d have arrested you and Jonas by now.”
“In that case, wouldn’t talking to a barrister be like tempting fate? My solicitor hasn’t mentioned it yet.”
“Nonsense. It’s the sensible thing to do. If the worst should happen, you’ll have someone familiar with the case whom you can call.” He pushed the piece of paper toward her. “Now, come. Take the number and use it.”
She took the piece of paper reluctantly, rubbing the quality paper between her fingertips. Moleskine, she’d bet. Her preference was for Claire Fontaine. And by dwelling on stationery, she was trying to distract herself. Sometimes her sharp self-perception was a bitch.
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “I don’t want to go to prison for a crime I didn’t commit. Much as I despised Aidan, he deserves justice. If they pin it on us, the real murderer will never be found.” She’d seen the way Connelly and his team looked at her. They were convinced of her guilt. They were merely biding their time on the arrest until they had more concrete evidence, whatever that might be. She knew her DNA would be all over Aidan’s house. How could it not be? She’d lived there up until a few months ago. But she highly doubted her fingerprints were on the gnome that had been used as a weapon. “Okay, I’ll ring the barrister tomorrow.”
Granddad squeezed her arm. “That’s my girl.”
“What was the second thing you wanted to talk to me about?”
Her grandfather’s face grew grave. “A person rather than a thing. Jonas.”
She took a shuddery breath. “You think I should stop seeing him, don’t you?”
“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m fond of Jonas. I think he’d be good for you under different circumstances.” He laid a hand on her arm. “But whatever happens with the murder investigation, your continuing involvement with Jonas will do you no good in the eyes of the town. You depend on the people of Ballybeg for your business.”
“And Jonas has Luca to think of.” She stared out the kitchen window and the sea. “I hear what you’re saying, and I know what I have to do. It’s just seems unfair. For the first time in years, life was working out for me.”
She glanced in the direction of the closed kitchen door. “I suppose we’d better serve the coffee and cake.”
He grimaced. “I suppose we’d better.”
Conversation flowed no more freely over dessert than it had during dinner. The Major made several remarks designed to be conversation openers, after which everyone lapsed into silence once more.
Olivia brooded, avoiding thinking about Jonas by turning the facts of the case over in her mind. Aidan didn’t have many friends, but the list of people who actively hated him was short. Apart from herself and Jonas, there were, of course, her parents. Hate might be too strong a word to apply, but they certainly had reason to resent him. He’d bailed them out of financial difficulties, but at a price. There was Moira Keating, Aidan’s last mistress. If the rumor mill were to be believed, she was fairly bitter about being thrown over in favor of a younger, blonder replacement in the weeks prior to Aidan’s death.
Then there was the landscape architect who claimed Aidan had stiffed him on a bill a couple of summers ago. He seemed an unlikely candidate, but one never knew. If only she had access to Aidan’s private files, perhaps she’d find some irregularities in his dealings with clients.
Clutching at straws, but what else could she do? Sit and wait while the homicide team gathered evid
ence to support their theory that she and Jonas murdered Aidan? She didn’t want to go to prison. And she certainly didn’t want to go to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.
When the family gathering finally drew to an end, Olivia gave her grandfather a quick hug. “Thanks, Granddad. For everything.”
“Chin up, old girl,” he whispered into her ear. “It’ll turn out all right in the end.”
She certainly hoped so.
Her family’s good-byes were awkward, with only Ronan taking the time to address her personally. “Cheer up, sis,” he said with a slight smile, unconsciously reiterating their grandfather’s message. “Once they lock up whoever killed Aidan, tongues will stop wagging.”
Olivia was getting into her car when an idea struck her. Her parents were in a good position to know of anyone who had a grudge against Aidan. Perhaps they had a few names she hadn’t thought of. On impulse, she leapt back out of the car and strode over to her mother. “Mum? Can I have a word? In private, preferably.”
If Victoria was surprised, she hid it well. “Why don’t you call ‘round tomorrow?” she said airily. “Your dad and the boys will be out in the afternoon.”
“All right. I’ll call you before I leave the café.”
In Victoria’s case, calling in advance was essential, preferably no more than five minutes before arriving. She was apt to forget arrangements and never bothered to cancel if something better cropped up. When it came to a visit from her daughter, something better always materialized.
Now for the task she’d been putting off since the morning in the Ashbourne hotel—breaking up with Jonas.
Chapter Thirty-One
“DAD? ARE YOU GOING AWAY?” A lone tear ran down Luca’s cheek.
If someone had punched Jonas in the gut, it wouldn’t have hurt as much. He held a mental middle finger up at all the autism experts who insisted autistic kids couldn’t emote. He’d never found that to be true in Luca’s case, although part of him wished it were today. If he could absorb Luca’s pain, he’d do so in a hot second. But he was powerless to shield Luca from hurt. Instead, he knelt down in front of his little son and held out his arms. After a moment’s hesitation, Luca took a tentative step toward him.
“Please don’t cry,” he said gently, taking his son into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Tommy Daly said you were going to prison,” Luca said with a hiccup.
Damn Tommy Daly. And damn whatever adult had mentioned the murder investigation within his hearing. He stroked Luca’s cheek, wiping away his tears. “Tommy is wrong. The police are investigating a serious crime. They need to talk to lots of different people to find out what happened, including me and Olivia.”
“But they think you did it,” Luca insisted. “If they think you did it, they’ll lock you up.”
Luca looked small and vulnerable in the oversized dinosaur sweatshirt Gavin had bought him for his last birthday. A lump formed in Jonas’s throat. He could lie to the kid, but it wouldn’t be fair. “At the moment, maybe the police do think that. Olivia and I are hoping to convince them otherwise.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Well…we’ll just have to hope for the best and see what happens.”
“You can’t promise you won’t go to prison?”
Jonas bit back a groan. Luca needed reassurance. How could he promise the child something he couldn’t guarantee? “If the police do arrest me, there’ll be a trial before they decide to send me to prison. I’ll get a good lawyer, and he or she will try to make sure I don’t go to prison.”
Luca was clearly not satisfied with this response. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight? I’m scared.”
“Yeah, go on,” Jonas dropped a kiss onto the little boy’s tumble of dark curls. “Just don’t hog the quilt this time.”
“I never hog the quilt,” replied Luca in indignation.
“Hmm…,” Jonas said teasingly. “That’s not how I remember it. Go on and get your teddy.”
Luca disappeared into his bedroom, soon returning with his dino encyclopedia and a well-loved bear.
“I’ll read you a story before you go to sleep. Then I have to get a bit of work done. I’ll be in after that.”
It didn’t take Luca long to travel to the land of slumber. As Jonas watched the small, sleeping form, his temple began to throb. Would that he could take Luca’s worries away. But Luca voiced the same concerns that were plaguing him. He was terrified of being sent down for something he didn’t do and leaving Luca all alone. Yeah, his parents would help out, but that wasn’t what he wanted for his son. Luca belonged with him.
His mother’s absence had been an eye-opener. He’d loved spending more time with Luca and getting to know the little guy better. He’d also loved watching Luca interact with Olivia. Somehow, seeing her be sweet with his son had resurrected all the feelings he’d suppressed for years. Yes, they’d been lovers for a brief and intense couple of weeks, but they’d been friends long before that. The sooner this damn murder investigation was over, the better. The longer it dragged on, the less likely it seemed that he and Olivia would be able to make their relationship work.
Despite his brave face, he worried that they’d charge Olivia. His writing research meant he knew far too much about life inside an Irish prison to regard a sojourn there with anything but horror. Tucking the covers around Luca, he bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. He closed the bedroom door behind him quietly and padded down the hallway to his home office. After his extravagant promise to hire the best legal representation money could buy, he’d best get cracking on his manuscript.
The cursor blinked on the monitor. His heart raced. Jonas took a deep breath and began to type.
He’d finished three pages when the doorbell rang. A glance at the clock told him it was late for callers, especially ones he wasn’t expecting. Then he remembered the text message he’d heard come through earlier but had forgotten to read. He grabbed his mobile phone. Sure enough, there was a brief message from Olivia, asking if he had time that evening to talk. Without a moment’s hesitation, he bounded to his feet and strode toward the front door.
Olivia looked pale and tense in her stylish blue jacket, her long red hair uncharacteristically wild.
A ball of panic formed in his stomach. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” He took her hand and tugged her over the threshold and into his arms.
“Did you get my message?” The bags under her eyes indicated she’d passed another sleepless night.
“Just this instant.” He moved aside to let her pass. “Come on in.”
She looked past him dubiously. “Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to disturb Luca if he’s sleeping.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He took her jacket and hung it by the door. “Luca’s insomnia never starts before midnight. Come on through to the kitchen.”
He led her toward the kitchen and put on the kettle. It was too late for coffee, but Olivia was fond of a cup of hot tea before bed.
She cradled the steaming mug in her hands, a haunted expression on her face. Just as it had with Luca, seeing her this stressed physically hurt. He reached for her hand. “What’s up?”
“Ever since the morning at the Ashbourne,” she began, her eyes downcast, “We’ve been skirting this topic. I think it’s best we stop seeing each other. I know we said we’d keep our distance, but we haven’t been very good on following through. The more we’re seen together, the more the police will focus on us as the suspects.”
Her words slashed him like a dagger, the ball of panic turning to bile. He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand.
“Please, Jonas. Just hear me out. I’ve started doing a little digging around of my own. Maybe I can come up with an idea of who killed Aidan. Until I do, or until the police make an arrest, I’m going to stay away from you.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to stop him. “For Luca’s sake, if for nothing else. Remember the sto
ry you told me about selling your motorbike because Luca was having panic attacks? You gave up something you loved because you love your son more. That’s what a good father does. Now it’s time to give up me.”
He wanted to contradict her, say it didn’t matter to him what the police thought. Then a vision of Luca’s worried face danced before his eyes. If he were sent down, how would he earn the money necessary to pay for Luca’s therapies? Even if his father labored until he was seventy, he’d never have enough to pay those sorts of sums. Jonas squeezed his eyes shut and uttered an oath. His number one priority was supporting his son. It had to be. No matter how much he cared about Olivia, Luca’s welfare came first.
“I fecking hate this.” He slammed a fist on the table. “If those incompetents from Dublin would concentrate on doing some actual detecting, we wouldn’t have this threat hanging over us.
“I know.” Her eyes were wet, her voice thick with emotion. “The police seem fixated on the idea of us scheming together to kill Aidan. But if we’re seen less together, perhaps they’ll consider other options.”
He came round to her side of the table and slipped his arms around her. “This isn’t over, Olivia. We’re not over. The moment the police find the killer, I’ll come knocking on your door.”
“I’ll be waiting.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, her lips skimming past the edge of his mouth. He had to resist the urge to grab her and kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed.
She stepped back and moved to the coat stand. “I’m glad we’ve at least put some of our ghosts to rest over the past few months. I cared deeply for Bry. I hated you thinking I’d ever harm him, either willfully or through negligence.”
“I know that, Olivia. I’ve always known it.”
She shrugged into her jacket and reached for the door handle.
“Wait.” He spun her around and took her in his arms. “Promise me that if you do come up with any ideas as to who could have killed Aidan, you’ll go straight to the police. Don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger.”
