“And you’re just telling me this now?” he asked.
Siobhán shook her head. “I forgot.”
“Blarney, you forgot.” He got up from his chair and approached her. “That’s called interfering with an active investigation.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t look like you’re interrogating anyone but me brother.”
“Right now I’m interrogating you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re the one with a temper. You admitted Sheila forced you to take a pair of the scissors, and you were the one who found the body.”
“What are ye saying? Are you accusing me of murdering Niall?”
“It’s crossing me mind.”
“Well, uncross it. I could never do something that vile.”
“But you can keep important information from me.”
“I told ye, I forgot.”
“And I called blarney on ye, Siobhán O’Sullivan.”
He was close. Close enough to kiss. He was also furious. “Yes, Garda Flannery?”
“What else are ye hiding from me?”
Chapter 11
Siobhán stood still for what felt like a lifetime. Macdara’s eyes never left hers. If she didn’t tell him everything now, he’d never be on her side again. It was now or never. She took a deep breath. “The Friday before he was killed I got in a bit of an argument with Niall.”
“You did, did ye?”
“At Sheedy’s cycle shop.”
“What’s the story?”
“Niall Murphy was trying to extort me.”
Macdara kept still. “What?” His voice was almost a growl.
“He asked me for ten thousand euro.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“He said he had proof that Billy was innocent.”
“Are you joking me?”
“That’s what I said. Of course it was madness. You were there. At the accident site. There’s no doubt it was Billy who killed them, is there?”
Macdara suddenly lunged forward and took Siobhán’s hands. She was startled, then ashamed, as a shiver of attraction ran through her. “There is no doubt, Siobhán. Billy ran into your parents. He was drunk. He was in the car. There was no one else. I don’t know what Niall was on about, but there is no doubt.”
Siobhán nodded as tears filled her eyes. She’d done so little crying; she was terrified that once she started she’d never be able to stop. She bit her lips and pulled her hands away. “Niall mentioned someone else who he said would pay him twenty thousand for his proof. So he was extorting or blackmailing someone else too. Maybe he or she killed him.”
“Who was this other person?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I said he or she. Niall just said ‘yer one.’ ”
“Yer one.”
“ ‘Yer one would pay me twenty thousand for it.’ That’s exactly what he said.”
“I can’t believe I’m just hearing this now.”
“I thought it was madness. I still do. But you should look through his things. See if you can find anything.”
“Mary Murphy will put up holy hell, if I try to blacken Niall’s name during the course of this investigation. I can tell ye that right now.”
“Even if it’s to find her son’s killer?” Macdara gave her a long look. “Does she know James was here for questioning?”
Macdara nodded. “She was in the station when they brought him in.”
“And she thinks he did it?” Macdara’s look said it all. Of course, she thought James did it. There had been bad blood between their families ever since the crash. “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe any of this is happening.”
“Did James know about your run-in with Niall?” Siobhán looked away. “He knew. He went out that night to find Niall, didn’t he?” Macdara’s fury was back. Siobhán just didn’t know when to stop.
“I didn’t say that,” Siobhán said. “You can’t say that I said that.”
“So, that’s a yes. Damn it, Siobhán. You’re making this worse.”
“How?”
“James went out all cocked and ready to fire at Niall. That’s damning evidence.”
“So is extortion. Niall was extorting or blackmailing someone else. Maybe that someone was willing to kill to protect his or her secret.”
“What secret are ye on about?”
“I don’t know! You’re the guard. You figure it out.”
“I told you there is no doubt that Billy caused that accident.”
“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t going around extorting other people. He knew me well enough to know what buttons to push. How do we know he wasn’t torturing several others with different lies? And why did he need ten thousand euro? With that suit, and that much money? What if he was running off with someone? What if they had intended to marry? Isn’t it usually the spouse who does it?”
“Damn it, Siobhán,” Macdara said. “I’m the one who should be asking these questions.”
“Finally,” Siobhán said. “At least we agree on something.” She could still feel the heat of his glare as she took the opportunity to make a dramatic exit. She probably shouldn’t step on his toes. But if he wasn’t going to do his job, she would have no choice but to do it for him.
The O’Sullivan Six gathered in the bistro and cozied up to the fireplace, as if seeking warmth wherever they could find it. Gráinne’s eyes were swollen from crying. Ann was biting her nails. Eoin was pacing. Ciarán was hopping about, unable to keep still. Siobhán was watching every few seconds out the window as if she’d be able to figure out how it was going with Macdara and Sheila. She’d seen him go into the salon about an hour ago. James was the only one not in motion; he was lost in thought, staring into the fire.
They’d been over and over James’s last recollection. It wasn’t much; he remembered going to O’Rourke’s and having that first drink. After that, everything else was gone.
“We need to talk to Gráinne alone,” James said, snapping out of his catatonic state.
“We do?” Siobhán said. Her heart clenched. She knew something was up with Gráinne and Niall. She didn’t want to hear it.
“What for?” Gráinne asked.
“I want to stay,” Eoin said.
“Me too,” Ann said.
“Can I watch telly and eat crisps?” Ciarán asked.
“All of yez upstairs now,” James said, sounding very much like their da. “And don’t make me say it again.”
“We never used to keep secrets,” Eoin said with a disgusted look before herding Ann and Ciarán upstairs. James was looking at Gráinne. A feeling of foreboding washed over Siobhán.
“Bits and pieces of the evening are coming back,” he said.
Siobhán lunged forward. “Do you know who beat you up?”
James shook his head. “I just remember Niall goading me.”
“About what?” Billy not causing the accident.
James looked at Gráinne. “About you. Niall told me, Gráinne. He told me.”
“Told you what?” Siobhán said.
Gráinne just looked at the fire, tears running down her cheeks.
“What is going on?” Siobhán pressed. She was wrong; she did want to know. Imagining all sorts of scenarios was worse.
“Niall and Gráinne have been writing each other this past year,” James said. “Isn’t that right, Gráinne?”
“Oh my God,” Siobhán said. “No.”
Gráinne stepped forward, clutching her hands. “You didn’t know him. He wasn’t bad. He wasn’t bad at all.”
“How did this even start?” Siobhán asked.
“He sent us that letter after Mam and Da died,” Gráinne said. “And I wrote him back.”
Siobhán had forgotten about that letter. In fact, she hadn’t even finished reading it. She hadn’t wanted his sympathies. “Were you in love with Niall?” The thought made her cringe.
Gráinne shook her head violently. “Don’t be daft.
We were friends. That’s all.”
“Did he mention being romantically involved with anyone?” Siobhán asked. “Do you know any reason he would have been in a suit?”
Once again Gráinne shook her head. Siobhán wondered what she was hiding, because it was obvious there was something. “Were you supposed to meet him that night? Was he coming here to see you?”
Once again she just shook her head.
“Let me see the mobile,” Siobhán asked.
Gráinne looked horrified. “Why? You think I’m lying?”
“I think you’re skirting the truth.”
“What does that mean?”
“Garda Flannery thinks James killed Niall. You have to tell us everything you know.”
“We were friends. Writing letters. That’s all. I hadn’t even seen him until he came into the bistro and everyone got in a fight with him.”
A fight that started with Mike Granger. Siobhán had forgotten all about that. She needed to talk to Mike, find out exactly what had triggered that fight. She remembered being surprised at how upset Mike was. As if he was personally affronted by the sight of Niall. Siobhán glanced at Gráinne. She wasn’t telling the whole truth either. She knew her sister well enough to know that.
“Go get the mobile,” James said.
“I won’t.” Gráinne actually stomped her foot.
“Do it,” James said. Gráinne whirled around and sprinted out the door. Seconds later they heard her furious stomps on the stairs.
“She’s going to erase everything first,” Siobhán said.
“I know,” James said. “But we can hint that we’re sending it somewhere where people can retrieve messages. Maybe it’ll scare the truth out of her.”
“And what do you think the truth is?”
James shook his head as he walked over to the window. “Hey,” he said, his voice perking up. “Macdara is across the way talkin’ to Sheila and Pio,” he said. “It looks serious.”
Siobhán ran to the window. Sure enough, Macdara was standing just outside, with a very unhappy-looking Pio and Sheila. Just then, Sheila’s head swiveled, and she looked directly at the bistro. If her eyes were explosives, the place would have been blown to smithereens. Uh-oh. Maybe this was a good time to pop into the market and talk to Mike Granger. Anything other than face Sheila’s wrath again. She’d leave that to Macdara. She lied to James about needing a bit of fresh air and slipped out the back door.
Chapter 12
Mike’s Market was on the same side of the street as the bistro, but was situated at the end—or the beginning, depending on which direction one was headed. It was small, but it stocked most everything one could ever need, and as usual it was filled with people doing their messages. Siobhán hurried past the fresh veggies, spuds, packets of crisps, chocolates, and meats, and headed for the back of the store, where Mike had a small office. The door was closed. Siobhán knocked.
“I’m busy,” she heard him call. Who could have known that murder would turn everyone in Kilbane into a recluse?
“It’s Siobhán O’Sullivan. Please. I need to speak with ye.” A few seconds later, the door opened a crack, and then Mike quickly pulled her into the office and slammed the door behind them.
“How ya keeping?” he said. “Can you believe dis now?”
She didn’t know whether he was talking about the murder, or the crowd in his market. “Ah, sure, lookit,” she said.
The office was small, but unlike Macdara’s orderly space, this one was messy and cramped. Soft-drink cans lined the desk, along with empty crisp wrappers. Diet Coke. He always drank regular as far as Siobhán could remember. When had he switched? Come to think of it, he was looking a bit trimmer. Good for him. He’d stopped smoking last year as well. A man of perpetual improvements—good on him. He had his cap on this time, which was a bit of a relief as Siobhán tried not to think about the vein on the top of his bald head.
Papers were piled on the only chair across from Mike’s desk. He removed them, then stood for a moment, trying to figure out where to put them. Finally he settled for a spot on the floor. “Sit, sit,” he said. Siobhán did. He folded his arms across his chest, leaned back in his chair, and just waited.
This was so hard. Questioning people who were neighbors, and friends. After her parents died, Mike let them buy food without having to pay right away. It seemed every month they were stretched after paying Alison Tierney the rent. They literally owed him. Siobhán didn’t want Mike to think she suspected him of murder, but she had to find out more about the fight he had with Niall. Was it possible Niall had been trying to squeeze money out of him, too? Every little drop of information was a clue. “This has been quite a shock,” Siobhán said.
“Indeed,” Mike said. “Although . . .” He stopped talking and then shook his head.
“Although?”
“I’m not entirely surprised. The lad was trouble. Just like his brother.”
“Who do you think did it?”
Mike looked at the ceiling as if the name of the killer was written there. “Niall didn’t have too many friends in town.”
“Being a begrudger is a far cry from being a murderer,” Siobhán said. “I just can’t imagine one of us a killer.”
“Who says it’s one of us?”
“Well, there aren’t many strangers in town.” She suddenly thought of the good-looking man she’d passed on the footpath the morning of her run. So tall. Those blue eyes. Like a movie star, he was. In the wake of the murder, she’d forgotten all about him. “There is a fellow I saw the other day who wasn’t from here.”
“A real good-looking one?” Mike asked. “Tall? About your age?”
“That’s the one,” Siobhán said, feeling her face flush slightly.
“Chris Gorden. He’s a Yank by way of New York. Here tracing his Irish roots.” Mike produced air quotes around “Irish roots.”
“How long has he been here?”
Mike scratched the top of his cap. “I’d say he showed up about the same time Niall came back. C’mere to me. Would ye look at dat? I think you’re onto something there.” Mike beamed at her as if she’d just solved the case. Siobhán wasn’t convinced.
“Why would a Yank kill Niall?”
“Why do the Yankee Doodles do anything? Maybe he’s lying about the reason he’s in town. Maybe he was in Dublin with Niall. Could have followed him here. Surely whatever malarkey Niall was up to in the city, it was no good. You know yourself.”
Siobhán hadn’t thought of that. It didn’t have to be one of them. The Yank from New York or an outsider from Dublin. There were a lot of drug-related murders in Dublin. Maybe Niall was in debt to a bad sort. Maybe that’s why he was going around trying to extort money. He was desperate. Drug dealers were after him if he didn’t pay. And they’d managed to find him.
But why leave his body in their bistro? That didn’t seem much like a nasty drug dealer. Still, it was a possibility. She’d have to mention it to Macdara. If he was still talking to her.
“You seemed awfully angry with Niall that afternoon at the bistro,” Siobhán said, trying to keep her voice as light and un-accusing as possible.
Mike lifted his eyebrow, then leaned foward. “Did I now?” he said.
Siobhán nodded. She hated the Irish way of answering most everything with sarcasm disguised as a question. Was he trying to give her a gentle warning? She forced herself to press on. “What started the argument? Do you recall?”
Mike leaned across the desk. “Why, Siobhán O’Sullivan, do you fancy yourself a detective superintendent?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why do I feel like I need my solicitor?” He grinned, but there wasn’t any warmth in his eyes.
“I’m just beside myself with finding his body in our bistro. I guess I’m acting the fool, trying to keep myself occupied.”
“Why don’t you concentrate in the kitchen? Whip up a nice batch of brown bread. You’ve a special talent with baking alright.”
>
“Thank you.” Siobhán gritted her teeth and curled both fists. “I was very touched by how you stood up to Niall for us the other day. No disrespect to the dead.” Siobhán crossed herself.
Mike nodded, then leaned back, looking a lot more relaxed. He fancies himself a protector. That’s his key. When he spoke again, it was with an air of confidence. “I told Niall he should be home with his poor mammy instead of bothering the likes of you.” He shook his head, then adjusted his cap and reached for his can of Diet Coke. He jiggled it, then put it down and tried the next one. It too must have been empty, for he opened one of his desk drawers and brought out another can. The sound of it popping open filled the tiny space. Siobhán was forced to watch as he horsed it into him all at once, then let it down with a simultaneous belch. “I was sorry to hear about James having a right slip. Ah, but it’s part of the process, like. I’ll get him back to a meeting, I will.”
Siobhán nodded. Mike was a Pioneer too. Hadn’t had a drop of the drink in years. He’d not only been there for them at the bistro, he’d been there for James during some of his darkest days. Maybe he had been just protecting them from the likes of Niall. And here she was, suspecting him of murder. She hated this. Every single bit of it. Mike clearly didn’t want to answer her question about why he was so angry with Niall, and she couldn’t afford to make another enemy. She changed the subject instead. “Have you seen Mary Murphy in here since?”
“Father Kearney picked up her carton of fags. Says she barely let him in the door.”
“Oh, no,” Siobhán said.
“I’ve been looking the other way when it comes to her bill the past few months. I told Niall he should be ashamed of himself, not taking care of his mammy in her time of need.” He sighed as a forlorn expression took over his face. “If I had known he was going to be murdered I would’ve minded me own business.”
“I didn’t know things were so bad.” Billy’s legal bills. Niall had said as much. She would have to make an attempt to see her, no matter what kind of reaction she got. It was the only decent thing to do. Not that Mary had come to see them after her parents died. No matter. Her mam would want her to pay her respects. But there wouldn’t be a funeral until the body had been released, and as Macdara had stated, the investigation would take as long as it takes.
Murder in an Irish Village Page 10
