“I know. It’s just my job to make sure you feel safe.”
“He’s after you, right?” Ciarán said.
“Right,” Siobhán said grimly.
“Then I feel safe.” Ciarán grinned. Siobhán wanted to ruffle his carrottop and pinch his cheeks, but she restrained herself.
“Macdara could check around and see if he can figure out how the person got in,” Gráinne said. “I think we should call the guards.”
“Can we talk this through first?” Siobhán headed into the kitchen, and they all gathered around the back wall, where they had their list of suspects. Siobhán pointed to Mary Murphy’s name. “On two visits to Mary’s house I saw separate piles of magazines.”
“She did it!” Ciarán said. “But why would she murder her own son?”
“She didn’t,” Siobhán said quickly. Heavens, she couldn’t have Ciarán thinking that.
“Then why is her name up there?” Ciarán persisted.
“I thought you were supposed to suspect everyone so I added her name. I don’t think she murdered Niall. But she still could have sent the note.”
“If we’re supposed to suspect everyone, why aren’t our names up there?” Ciarán said.
“Can we focus? I’ll add our names later if you like.” Siobhán turned back to the board. “ We all saw the condition, Mary was in at the wake. There’s no way that she left the note.”
“She could have sent someone,” Eoin said.
“It’s possible,” Siobhán said. “But let’s just assume that the person who wrote the note is the person who left it. In that case, I think we can rule her out.” They fell quiet as Siobhán put a light line through Mary’s name. “Did anyone notice if any of our suspects weren’t in attendance? Came in late? Anything?”
“Alison Tierney wasn’t there,” Eoin said.
“Right.”
“And since she owns this building, isn’t it possible Séamus gave her a copy of the new key?”
“I don’t think he would’ve done that without letting me know, but it’s a good point. I’ll ask him.” Siobhán put a tick mark next to Alison’s name.
“Sheila came to the wake much later than everyone else,” Gráinne said.
“Are you sure?” Siobhán asked.
“Yes. Because Pio was setting up with his band, and one of the lads asked where she was, and he made a joke about taking the chain off for a bit.”
“Good catch,” Siobhán said. “How long after did she walk in?”
“I’d say at least an hour. And she didn’t look happy at all. It was like she knew that Pio was talking shite about her behind her back.”
“Language,” Siobhán said. She put a star next to Sheila’s name. “Did you notice if anyone else was late or left early?”
“Father Kearney went in and out.”
“I’d like to think we can safely rule him out.”
“Because he’s a priest?” Gráinne looked at Siobhán as if she were the biggest eejit alive.
“Honestly? Yes.”
Gráinne shrugged but didn’t comment further. Siobhán was glad. She didn’t want to get into a conversation about naughty priests.
“Bridie and Séamus were a bit late. Séamus made a joke about Bridie taking so long. And Courtney Kirby came in right after. She also said she couldn’t stay long, something about needing to take inventory.”
Siobhán put a star next to their names as well. “Mike Granger?”
“I didn’t see him at all,” Gráinne said.
Siobhán looked at the rest of her brood. One by one they shook their heads. Siobhán put a bigger star next to his name. And there was still the matter of the passport. Mike might have satisfied Macdara with his explanation, but Siobhán’s gut told her it didn’t make sense.
“What about the Yank?” Eoin said.
Gráinne tilted her head and clasped her hands. “He was too busy making eyes at Siobhán.”
Siobhán glared at her. “I think he was there when we arrived.”
“And he was there when we left,” Ann said.
“With a wee bit of drool hanging off his lip,” Gráinne said.
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t slip out,” Eion said.
“Because of the drool?” Ciarán said.
“No, Ciarán,” Siobhán said. Half the time she had no idea what was going on in that noggin’ of his. She turned to the list and sighed. Eoin was right. Anyone could have slipped out and back in. This was getting them nowhere. But it was odd that Mike hadn’t shown up. What was so urgent that he couldn’t show his respects? She was definitely going to have to follow up on that.
“Declan didn’t stay long either,” Ann piped up. “Said he couldn’t leave the pub for long.” Siobhán handed her the marker and let Ann put a star next to Declan’s name. When she turned back around, there were tears in her eyes.
“Ah, pet,” Siobhán said. “Are you alright?”
“I don’t like this,” Ann said.
Siobhán put her arm around her sister and held her as she cried.
“I’ll make tea,” Gráinne said.
“Good idea,” Siobhán said, steering Ann out into the bistro and sitting her down near the fireplace. “And how about some cake too?”
“We have cake?” Gráinne said.
“I made it to bring to Mary’s and I completely forgot. It’s in the kitchen on the rack.” Gráinne hurried in to get the cake while Siobhán knelt down and wiped the tears off Ann’s cheeks and smoothed her hair. “It’s been a rough year,” she said. “But remember what mam always used to say?”
Ann sniffled and then nodded. “This too shall pass,” she said.
“This too shall pass,” Siobhán agreed. She wanted to cheer Ann up. An idea struck her. Something special, just for her. “Wait here.” Siobhán hurried up to her room and pulled the whittling box out from underneath her bed. She picked up a hummingbird she’d started quite a while back and her carving knife. Only the details were left to do, and so she began to shave around it, concentrating on the details of the feathers and the needle-beak. Soon, the delicate bird was complete. Maybe Ann would even like to paint it. Perfect.
She raced back downstairs. Her siblings were sipping tea and eating cake. Siobhán’s mug was waiting for her at the table, steam curling into the air. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand,” she said. Ann closed her eyes and reached out with both hands, palms up. Siobhán gingerly set the bird in it. “Open.”
Ann’s eyes flew open, and a smile spread across her face. “It’s lovely.”
“You haven’t whittled for a year now,” Gráinne said. “You’re so good at it.”
“For your eyes only,” Siobhán said. “Don’t say a word to Bridie or Courtney, or they’ll be on me about carving them for the store.”
“You should,” Ann said. “We would be rich.”
Siobhán sighed. “Sometimes doing things for money takes all the love out of it.”
Money. The root of so much evil. Once again Siobhán thought about Niall trying to extort ten thousand euro out of her. This was key to cracking the case—she just knew it. Who else had Niall been extorting or blackmailing, and why? And now that they were up anyway, should she talk to Ann about what she overheard? Warn her not to tell anyone else that Niall had texted Gráinne that evening? She turned to find her youngest sister nodding off with half a piece of cake still left on her plate. She gently removed the plate, shook Ann awake, escorted her and Ciarán upstairs, and helped them until they were snug in their beds.
“I miss James,” Ciarán said just before he fell asleep. “And Mam and Da too.”
Siobhán held back tears. She was too exhausted to cry. “Our brother will be home soon,” she whispered. “I promise.” When she came back down, Gráinne and Eoin were still planted in front of the fire. Siobhán stood, staring into it for a very long time.
“You’re thinking,” Gráinne said. “It’s annoying.”
“Tell me more about your correspondence with Bi
lly,” Siobhán said.
Gráinne’s eyes widened. “What do you want to know?”
“When are visiting hours, and do you think he would agree to see me?”
“Why do you want to see that wanker?” Eoin asked.
Because he might know who else Niall was extorting or blackmailing. “Mind your language,” she said.
“I don’t know,” Gráinne said. “I can ask.”
Siobhán nodded. She loathed that Gráinne was communicating with Billy. She for one never wanted to see his face again. But now, with James’s life on the line, she had to do it. She had to visit Billy Murphy in prison and get him to explain Niall’s scheme. She had to find out every single person he’d been hitting up for money. It might be her only chance to catch a killer.
Chapter 30
Siobhán didn’t want anyone but Gráinne to know she was going to visit Billy in prison. Luckily, she had the perfect excuse for going to the prison, seeing as how they needed to see James as well. When Macdara learned the O’Sullivans were going to visit James, he offered to drive them to Cork City. It just so happened that he had some business there himself, and from the city centre they could take the number 8 bus to Cork Prison. When they were finished, they would meet him back in the city and have a spot of lunch before returning home.
Even though Siobhán didn’t quite believe Macdara had to be in Cork, for once she didn’t put up a fuss. Visiting James was going to be an ordeal for all of them, and she was grateful for the support. She sat in the front of his police car as if she were a member of the gardai, while her four little prisoners cozied up in the back.
During the drive to Cork, they sang along to the radio as rain tap-danced on the roof of the car, and not a single one of them mentioned prison, or murder, or anything remotely macabre. It was as if they had all been craving a little slice of normal. A little slice of heaven, really. That’s what normal life was to them now.
Ciarán begged Macdara to put the lights and sirens on, and to Siobhán’s surprise and delight he did just that. They laughed as cars veered to the side and faces pinched in prayer greeted them as they sped past. Siobhán could almost hear the collective sigh of relief pile up behind them.
“Sorry, lads, that’s all I can get away with,” Macdara said, returning to a normal speed and cutting the lights and siren once they pulled far enough ahead of all the others.
“Deadly,” Eoin said from the back, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Awesome,” Ciarán said, sporting an outright grin. Ann giggled, and soon Gráinne joined in. A burst of warmth filled Siobhán, and she gave in to a smile as well. Macdara glanced at her, and their eyes locked, and the warmth spread between them. She looked away first, fearing he would have an accident if he continued to stare at her like that.
Would you look at that, they were happy out. Siobhán had forgotten what that felt like. Imagine. She would hold on to this memory like a nugget of gold until the light could shine again. They would get through this. They would get James back, and they would be a normal family again. Save your strength for your darkest days, her mam used to say when Siobhán was bothered over some trifle of a problem—a boy who didn’t fancy her, or a friend who didn’t invite her to go shopping with the other girls, or a less than perfect mark in school, or heaven forbid she gained half a stone over the holidays. Such were the worries that used to rock her world. Silly, how much time human beings wasted on things that didn’t matter. She supposed one couldn’t truly appreciate that perspective until one was faced with real problems. And, as usual, Mammy was right. If these weren’t the darkest days, Siobhán never wanted to know what was.
She touched the threatening note tucked into the pocket of her denims as they wound their way through a patch of vibrant trees glowing from the kiss of rain, reminding Siobhán why her home was called the Emerald Isle. The leaves indeed sparkled like precious emeralds. And she knew that, if forced to make a choice, she’d rather gaze upon this beautiful land than wear true emeralds around her neck.
She fixed her eyes on the Ballyhoura Mountains resting in the distance, barely visible through the mist, their earthy lumps as familiar to her as an old friend. She placed her hand on the window and imagined she was touching them. She felt Macdara glance over, but she kept her gaze outward. She couldn’t afford being distracted by the likes of Garda Flannery.
Besides, he wouldn’t be this nice to any of them once he found out they were keeping new evidence from him. In fact, she wondered if not producing the note was the same as hindering an investigation, but she knew she couldn’t tell him. Not just yet. Once he found out, he would keep track of her like patrons in a pub keep track of their pints. She was getting close to the truth; she could feel it. Or at least, they were eliminating suspects, and that was the same as making progress, wasn’t it?
Her thoughts returned to Sheila Mahoney, and how she was late coming to the wake. Siobhán didn’t know how she would have gotten into the bistro, what with the new locks, but she had that problem no matter who the killer was. They were Sheila’s scissors. She went to the trouble to get something out of the rubbish and bring it back into her shop. She said it was a broken vase, but she was allergic to flowers. She had a bruise as if she’d tussled with someone. And she was one of the last people to see Niall Murphy.
What if Sheila had planned the entire murder way in advance? What if that was the sole reason for passing out those hideous scissors, and even changing her sign? So that when she stabbed Niall, everyone would be suspect. Everyone who had access to a pair of her scissors, which was, well—everyone. Just days before the murder Sheila had seen to that.
Was Siobhán on to something? Had the entire thing been a ruse? It was a startling new thought. Maybe the broken glass in the salon didn’t come from a vase, as she claimed; maybe Niall had smashed the window, crawled in, and what? Startled Pio or Sheila, who had just returned from the pub, and they stabbed him with the scissors? Wait. That would be self-defense, wouldn’t it? And then how did some of Niall’s blood get on James’s clothing? How would Sheila or Pio even know where to find James?
Pio could have been playing trad music at Declan’s that night. He would have seen the state James was in, and that could have led to Pio framing him.
“A quid for your thoughts,” Macdara said.
“Just enjoying the scenery,” Siobhán said.
“So is he,” Gráinne said from the back. “What do you think? Is she beautiful when she’s staring out the window like an eejit?”
“Gráinne Kate O’Sullivan!” Siobhán said.
“Pardon?” Macdara said.
“Never you mind. Gráinne’s just being smart.” Siobhán shook her head but didn’t turn around. The cheek of that girl! It was true, though: Macdara had been staring at her almost the entire ride. Macdara coughed and fixed his gaze out the front. Ann and Gráinne tittered in the back.
“How much longer?” Ciarán said.
“Not long now,” Macdara answered.
“We would have been there by now if you’d kept your lights and siren on,” Ciarán said.
“Hush,” Siobhán said. Meeting with Billy was the key to cracking this case. It had to be. Motive was key. Who really wanted Niall dead? Siobhán was convinced it went back to the person Niall mentioned, the one willing to pay twenty thousand euros for some kind of video. Even if the video was a lie, the killer could have fallen for it. And Sheila had certainly been going on about business being bad. Maybe she needed money to pay off Niall. What did he tell her was on the video? Something she’d done? Something Pio had done?
Thankfully Gráinne had successfully set up the visit. Billy would know what Niall had been up to—at least she prayed he did.
Situated behind the Murphy army barracks on Rathmore Road, the pale stone building with bright blue doors looked more like a cheery castle than a medium-security prison. Siobhán was sure it was nothing like a royal abode inside. Still, she was somewhat relieved to see that it had a
nice appearance. Hopefully it was just as well-kept inside, and her brother was doing okay. If James was convicted of murder, he’d be sent to Cloverhill Prison in Dublin. There would be nothing cheery about that address. The thought was enough to make anyone shudder. She couldn’t let that happen. It would send her to her grave.
Before entering, the O’Sullivans stood outside as if to collectively gather their nerve. “Let’s go,” Siobhán said and took the first step to the door.
They entered, stepped up to the officer standing just inside, and told him they were there for a visit. He checked Siobhán’s ID, and then he teased her siblings for not having motor licenses. She’d brought their birth certificates, and soon they were given a locker in which to put all their belongings, including their mobile phones. Then they waited.
Volunteers with St. Nicholas Trust were on hand to offer tea and a biscuit, and to explain the rules about visitation. They were to go in no more than three at a time, which cut their time down to fifteen minutes for each group. The volunteers doted on Ciarán and Ann, and soon had them laughing. Siobhán could feel the tears welling behind her eyes; she hated this place, no matter how nice they were or what a pretty blue they’d painted the door. She wished she had the power to yank James out of here and never look back. Her visit with James was scheduled first; she’d saved Billy for last.
Should she tell James she was meeting with Billy? It might ruin their visit. Then again, if he heard about it through someone else, it was going to ruin the next visit. She’d play it by ear, see what kind of form James was in first.
“Siobhán O’Sullivan and Eoin O’Sullivan?” a guard called. Siobhán and Eoin were ushered to an electronic door. Inside there was a revolving door and a security checkpoint. They were told to put all belts, jewelry, and anything else metal into the tray. Neither of them had anything that merited an eyebrow raise from the guy holding the scanner. We haven’t had time to dress ourselves up, Siobhán wanted to say. She also wanted to smack him. He looked so smug.
Once they passed the metal detection, they were asked to stand in position. An officer approached with a dog. Siobhán prayed Eoin wasn’t secretly doing drugs. She also prayed Ciarán wouldn’t try to pet the dog. Had she really told him they could get one? She’d been so tired. She had a feeling she was going to regret it. Finally, they were sniffed, scanned, and ready to go. The next room was the visiting room. There was a long table divided down the middle by a sheet of plexiglass. At one end of the table two women were visiting a man. Siobhán’s heart was racing as they took a seat and waited for James. This wasn’t going to work if her meeting with Billy was in the same room.
Murder in an Irish Village Page 23
