Murder in an Irish Village

by Carlene O'Connor

“Sit down, Siobhán, I’m not nearly finished.”

  Siobhán sighed. She sat. But she kept herself perched on the edge of the chair. Gráinne came over with a tea kettle. She exchanged a look with Siobhán.

  “Would you like a cappuccino?” Gráinne asked.

  “From here?” Alison said. She laughed. “No thanks.”

  “I was talking to my sister,” Gráinne said.

  “I’d love a cup, thank you,” Siobhán said. Gráinne smiled and left. “I have the best cappuccinos in Ireland. I dare say I would hold me own with Starbucks.”

  Alison’s eyes flicked over to the cappuccino machine. Siobhán didn’t even like her looking at it. She scooted her chair over, hoping to block her view. “It looks like a very expensive piece of equipment.”

  “You have to spend money to make money.”

  “How many cappuccinos do you make?”

  “Loads,” Siobhán said.

  “How many do you sell?”

  Shite. She had her there. She was mostly the one drinking them.

  “I’d say they double my energy, allow me to do the work of two,” Siobhán said.

  “And now three?” Alison said. Siobhán just stared at her. “With James gone?”

  “He won’t be gone for long,” Siobhán said. “My brother didn’t stab Niall Murphy in the heart with a pair of scissors in his own bistro.” Even though Siobhán kept her voice low, she still crossed herself after her utterance.

  “I’m sure he didn’t either.”

  Siobhán was glad she didn’t have the cappuccino yet; she would have spit out a mouthful. “You are?”

  “Of course. Your brother isn’t a killer.” Alison waved her hand again.

  “Thank God.” So the woman did have some decency after all. Either that or she knew James was innocent because she was the killer.

  “But between you and me, I don’t trust the gardai to do much investigating when they’ve got a perfectly good scapegoat in jail.” A creepy smile illuminated her pinched face.

  “Garda Flannery wouldn’t do that to James.”

  “Garda Flannery.” The snarl was back. “Yes. I see the way you two look at each other.”

  “There’s no way.”

  “I don’t blame you. He’s sexy.”

  “There’s no way.”

  “But sexy or not, he’s not a detective superintendent, is he?”

  “So?”

  “So if the detective superintendent thinks they’ve got yer man, then there isn’t a thing Garda Flannery can do about it. No matter how much he wants to.” She gave Siobhán another look.

  “I have to get back to work.” Siobhán started to stand. Alison reached out and touched her hand.

  “Please. I have a proposition that I think you’ll want to hear.”

  Siobhán sighed, then sat.

  Gráinne brought her the cappuccino.

  “Do you need me on the floor?” Siobhán asked Gráinne.

  “We’re sorted,” Gráinne said. “Take all the time you need.”

  Alison watched Gráinne walk away. “She looks like a woman now.” She doesn’t always act like it, Siobhán wanted to say, but not in front of the likes of Alison. “Do you still want to go to college?”

  Why was everyone asking her about college? It was starting to get on her nerves. “I have a lot on my plate,” Siobhán said. One glance at Alison’s empty place setting and she wanted to add, unlike you. As if it were beneath the woman to eat here. As if they didn’t have the best brekkie in town.

  “I finally have a buyer,” Alison said. “For the bistro.”

  “What?” Siobhán shot out of her chair, bumping the table and rattling the cappuccino. Frothed milk sloshed out the side. Siobhán wished it would leap onto Alison’s pristine suit and stain it with a T for traitor.

  “His finances check out. I’m afraid he wants to set up his own business in the space, but he’s willing to give you time to vacate.”

  “Time to vacate?”

  “To figure out what you’re going to do instead. Why don’t you go to college like you planned?”

  “You’re the one who would make money on the sale of the property—that is, if you’re telling the truth about a buyer. But we’d have nothing. You can’t do this. We have a lease.”

  “James had a lease,” Allison said emphatically.

  “Has a lease,” Siobhán answered with equally gusto. “I’m telling ye he’s going to be out soon.”

  “He’ll have to be out in thirty days.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you’re all out.”

  “You’re despicable.”

  Alison reached out again to touch her hand. Siobhán yanked it away. She stood. “I’m not the enemy. In fact, this is for your own good.”

  “Kicking me and my four siblings out is for my own good?”

  “Go to college. Move everyone to Dublin. Get out of this small town.”

  “This is our home. Our livelihood.”

  “I told you. I have a proposition.”

  “We’re not leaving.”

  “Agree to it now and I’ll buy you out of a portion of your lease.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’ll give you ten thousand euro from the sale.”

  Ten thousand euro. The exact amount Niall wanted from her. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I’m not heartless. It’s not even much in today’s world, but it’s fair.”

  “Kicking us out of home and job, that’s fair, is it?”

  “Take the offer. In the next twenty minutes it goes away.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “I don’t have time to waste. If I don’t sell now, who knows when I’ll have another buyer.”

  “Who is this buyer?”

  Alison began to blink rhythmically as if sending an SOS signal to someone at a neighboring table. Was the buyer here in the bistro? “I can’t say.”

  “You won’t say.”

  “Ladies?” Macdara said from behind Sibohan.

  Siobhán jumped and whirled around.

  “Don’t go sneaking up on a person like that,” Siobhán scolded. Alison had twisted her pear-shaped.

  “Sorry. Is everything alright here?”

  “Alison just offered me ten thousand euro to abandon the bistro and move out of town,” Siobhán said.

  “What?” Macdara looked truly shocked.

  “Apparently she has some sort of mysterious buyer.”

  “Who?” Macdara demanded.

  “She can’t say,” Siobhán said. “But the timing is interesting, don’t you think?”

  “What are you on about?” Alison asked. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

  “It’s almost as if someone placed Niall’s body here thinking it would put us out of business.”

  Alison screeched her chair back and stood. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

  “I’m not implying,” Siobhán said. “I’m stating it outright.” She turned to Macdara. “She’s talking about a clause that if James ‘abandons the property’ the lease is null and void. Just when did you find this clause? Before the murder? Or did you add it right after?”

  “What exactly are you accusing me of?” Alison said.

  Siobhán spoke to Macdara as if Alison wasn’t there. “Ten thousand euro she offered me. The exact amount Niall was trying to extort from me.”

  “You are out of your mind,” Alison said.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Siobhán said. “Get out of my bistro.” Siobhán started to walk away.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Alison said.

  Siobhán whirled around. “I’m sure I’ve made a lifetime of mistakes in the past year. But this isn’t one of them.”

  The two women glared at each other until Alison’s phone dinged. She read the text, and a look of alarm came into her eyes. She practically flew from the table, and before one could say “Hail Mary” she was out the door. Her figure sprinted by the window, and Sio
bhán watched, intrigued, as she practically dove into her car and peeled out. You could hear her tires squeal all the way down the street.

  Siobhán turned to Macdara. “Is it me, or was that odd?”

  Macdara shifted. “She did seem to be in a bit of a hurry.” He went outside and stood on the footpath, staring in the direction where Alison had taken off. Siobhán went up to the window, and Gráinne and Ann followed. They watched him watching the road.

  “Odd,” Gráinne said.

  “Totally odd,” Ann added.

  “You should follow her,” Gráinne said.

  Siobhán hushed her, then leaned into her sisters. “My thoughts exactly. Are you two okay holding down the fort?”

  “We’ve got this,” Gráinne said. “See what the witch is up to.”

  “Be nice,” Siobhán said, although she couldn’t agree more.

  Siobhán was almost out the back door when someone grabbed her arm. She whirled around to face Macdara.

  “Where’s the fire?” he said.

  “We’re out of tea,” Siobhán said. It was the first thing that came to her. Out of tea. What a ridiculous notion. Macdara must have thought the same thing, for he frowned. He was still touching her elbow. Siobhán gently extracted herself, smiled, and shot out the door.

  Chapter 26

  Siobhán revved up her scooter and took off in the direction Alison had headed after she peeled out. Soon she spotted Alison’s silver SUV just beyond King’s Castle, taking a left at the end of the street. By the time Siobhán caught up and took the left, the SUV was out of sight. This particular road continued out of town, or you could take another left on Hardy Street, which bordered the back of the town, just beyond the wall. Siobhán would take the left, and if there was no sign of Alison, she would simply take the loop to the next entrance gate and go home.

  As soon as Siobhán took the left, she spotted Alison just ahead. She was just on the other side of the Dominican Priory, and it struck Siobhán where Alison might be headed. Had Alison been going home, she would have continued straight ahead. Had she been going anywhere in town, she would have stayed inside the wall. So, barring any other friends she might have who lived along this road, there was one destination that stood out. Mary Murphy’s house was halfway down this street, to the right up on the hill. But why in the world would Alison be visiting her?

  Just when Siobhán thought she had it figured out, Alison’s car pulled over to the side of the road. Shoot. Siobhán would either have to turn around or pass her. If she passed her, she would be caught. There weren’t enough other redheaded young women on scooters in Kilbane. She hadn’t really been thinking the clandestine part through.

  Just then someone approached going the opposite direction on a bicycle. The rider was wearing a helmet, but Siobhán immediately thought of Séamus. Alison had been speeding, and she was lucky she hadn’t run him over. Siobhán reduced her speed enough to have a gawk, and just as she neared, the rider removed his helmet.

  It wasn’t Séamus at all; it was the Yank, Chris Gorden. She would have recognized his movie-star looks from even farther back. Was he pulling over to see if Alison needed help, or was this an arranged meeting? If only they had been on the other side of the wall, there would have been a place to hide.

  Then again, the first town entrance was just beyond where they were standing. If they were there long enough, Siobhán could try and get to a point on the opposite side of the wall where she could eavesdrop. If she left her scooter a ways away and kept to the ground, she might go undetected.

  The perfect place to park her scooter would be the Kilbane Museum, which was situated at the end of the road that led to the field bordered by the wall. It was a tiny museum, to be sure, but a local treasure. Filled with Kilbane history and memorabilia, including the Troubles and the potato famine, the museum was staffed by locals who took turns volunteering. Siobhán loved spending afternoons riffling through its crates of old photographs and trinkets. She pulled up alongside it and turned off the engine.

  Before the murder, Siobhán wouldn’t have thought twice about parking on the footpath without a lock and chain, but Niall’s death had changed all of that. She still didn’t have a lock and chain, but she would definitely worry about it.

  It wasn’t possible to put a price on peace of mind, but Kilbane’s had been shattered. Love they neighbor had now become Be very wary of your neighbor. Siobhán looked across the field and tried to estimate the distance from the museum to where Alison and Chris were meeting. Before heading off, she glanced in the window and saw Bridie standing in the museum’s back room. She was standing near the attic, and the ladder was pulled down.

  The few times Siobhán had volunteered, there was no need to go upstairs among the dusty boxes. She wondered what Bridie was doing. She would have to pop in when she was done listening in on Alison and Chris. Not that she was going to come out and ask Bridie if she and Niall had been having an affair, but maybe she would think of something.

  Siobhán hurried across the field, ducking as she went, hoping Alison and Chris would still be there by the time she reached the place where they were talking. The tinker’s horse was out, farther down the field than usual, and Siobhán wished she had a carrot. It would have been the perfect cover were she to be spotted. She supposed she could pretend to be feeding the poor thing a carrot, but decided that was just too cruel to the horse. Besides, if he nipped at her when she did have treats, he’d probably chomp a finger off to punish her for coming empty-handed. When she was about twelve feet from her destination, she dropped to the ground and began crawling through the grass.

  As she crawled toward the stone wall, she could only pray no local residents were out in their back gardens, and so she was a wee bit relieved when it started to rain. Between the mist and the fact that her red hair was tucked up in her helmet, maybe no one would spot her. By the time she reached the wall, her linen pants were soaking wet. She was going to have to start carrying a change of clothes. She finally reached the wall, huddled against it, and strained to listen. In addition to the pattering of the rain, she could hear the swoosh of traffic on the road, and it was only after several seconds that Alison’s high-pitched voice rose above the din. At first, Siobhán only caught a few words. Bank. Obligations. And then a phrase: “It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Are you sure they want to leave?” Chris asked. “I didn’t get that feeling today.”

  “I told you to stay away,” Alison said.

  “But why? If it’s as you say.”

  Alison said something about it being a delicate situation, and something about bittersweet. Then she mentioned the bank again. Just then Siobhán felt something strange bump into her backside, followed by a snort. She gave a little cry and whirled around to see the tinker’s horse directly behind her, sniffing at her backside. She thought only dogs did that. She heard Chris say something about the horse, then heard footsteps. She flattened herself against the wall just as Chris reached his hand over the wall to stroke the horse. It whinnied and rubbed its nose against his hand. Would you look at that, the tinker’s horse didn’t try to bite the Yank the way he did her. The cheeky little bugger.

  “Who owns him?” Chris asked.

  “A tinker. You don’t want to be touching it. It’s probably diseased.”

  “His ribs are showing.”

  Alison launched into a mini-tirade about the travelers, like most in town would, and Siobhán couldn’t help but wonder how it sounded to the American. Like they were all a bit prejudiced? The truth was, they were, and listening to the disdain in Alison’s voice made Siobhán feel slightly ashamed.

  “If I wasn’t convinced it was James who stabbed Niall, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of the tinkers,” Alison said.

  “You think James did it?” Chris asked.

  “He’s been arrested. The gardai wouldn’t do that for no reason, don’t you think?” How dare she? Telling Siobhán she knew James didn’t do it, now spreading rumors that h
e did.

  “I don’t know. I only met him that night in the pub. He just didn’t seem like he was in any shape to pull it off.”

  “He blacked out is what I heard. Doesn’t remember a thing. Even more reason to believe he did it,” Alison said.

  “I don’t know. I think scissors to the heart requires a bit of coordination,” Chris said.

  Siobhán wanted to cheer Chris on. He was thinking this through logically, unlike a lot of people in town. How could she go on serving all these traitors who thought her brother was a murderer? Maybe she should move her entire brood to Dublin.

  “Maybe he sobered up by the time he killed Niall,” Alison said.

  “Maybe,” Chris said. He didn’t sound like he believed it.

  “I must be off,” Alison said. “Will you sit tight another couple of months?”

  “If it’s as you say, I will,” he said.

  “Naomi’s Bistro won’t last past the summer,” Alison said. “I can promise you that.”

  Siobhán was seething by the time she arrived at the musuem. Her scooter was still there, propped on the footpath next to the front door. For a second Siobhán could bask in the lie that Kilbane was the charming town it had always been. Full of Irish cheer, and a thousand welcomes. One thousand welcomes and one wee killer. And one soul-killing landlady.

  Won’t last past the summer. The nerve of that woman. And the Yank. She’d been so caught up in the fact that he’d been defending James that she hadn’t pieced together the rest until now. The Yank wanted to buy the bistro. So much for his flirting, and so much for his lies about traveling around Ireland for the fun of it. And there probably wasn’t a book either. What else might he have been lying about? If Chris Gorden had money, and was flashing it around, Niall Murphy might very well have been sniffing around him.

  This Yank was definitely a threat. Buying the bistro out from under them! The cheek of him. How dare Alison Tierney do this? Maybe she indeed was the killer. She certainly stood to profit. Maybe that’s why she told Siobhán she thought James was innocent but was telling everyone else a different story.

  Siobhán had a feeling that she was dealing with a very smart killer. Why couldn’t the culprit be one of those dumb ones who get caught on camera really mucking it up?