Murder in an Irish Village

by Carlene O'Connor

  She kissed her siblings good-bye, took a few more jokes directed at her and Macdara, and went out to get on her scooter. A lady wouldn’t ride a scooter in a dress, she thought for a second. Then again, she would squeeze her legs tight, it’s not like she’d be flashing anyone. Then again, she was going to be having a few drinks. Macdara and Pio had to think this was just a fun night out. She would walk. Macdara would probably give her a lift home anyway.

  He can’t kiss you good night if you drive home on your scooter.

  O’Rourke’s was alive with music and people. Siobhán stood just inside, feeling like a party crasher. It was as if everyone in town had had enough of murder, and they were all out to celebrate instead. There was no doubt that the people in this town liked to have a good time. Siobhán smiled when she thought of the typical saying lads here often used: Up here for thinking, down there for dancing as they pointed to their head and then their nether regions. Even a murderer couldn’t take the craic out of Kilbane.

  And the more people she could talk to tonight, the more she could narrow down the suspect list. Chances were good that one of the folks in this room tonight was the killer. She had to do everything in her power to make it look like she was just having fun, to convince everyone she was done sleuthing, yet still get them to talk.

  She sensed someone behind her, but before she could turn around, a pair of hands were plastered over her eyes. It could be the killer, trying to drag her out before anyone else had seen her. Thank God for heels. She lifted her foot and brought it down as hard as she could on the foot of the person behind her. The shriek was loud, and female.

  The pair of hands immediately fell from her eyes. Siobhán whirled around to see a girl bent over, still shrieking, the foot Siobhán had stomped on raised in pain.

  It was Maria. She must be back from Dublin for the summer! And she looked browned off. Oh, Jaysus. She had just stomped on her best friend’s foot. “I’m so sorry. You gave me a fright.”

  Maria looked up, her eyes watering. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She bent down as if examining Maria’s foot would help. “I thought you were going to drag me outside and stab me.”

  “Oh my God. They’re right. You’ve gone mental.”

  Siobhán straightened up. “They?”

  “Mam and Da said you were having a hard time of it. Going a bit nuts with Niall’s death. That’s why I decided to come home for the weekend and surprise ye.”

  “I wish you would have told me. I’ve missed you so much!”

  “I thought the surprise would do ye good. Didn’t consider it might be bad for my foot.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not the only one who’s jumpy around here lately. Can you believe it? A murder in Kilbane? And you thought Dublin would be exciting.” Siobhán was so happy to see Maria. Now she wouldn’t be alone. Maria would be here all summer.

  “Dublin is exciting.” Maria stood, and gently tested out her foot. “In fact, I’m only back for the weekend. To check on you.”

  “Just for the weekend?” Siobhán had a million questions stuck in her throat. “You mean you have to pack everything up before you come home for the summer?”

  “Let’s get a pint into us and start over,” Maria said.

  “Is Aisling with you?”

  Maria shook her finger. “I told ye. Drinks first, news second.” Siobhán nodded and looked around. If she had known Maria was here she wouldn’t have made a date with Macdara. And he was late on top of it. Should she text him and let him know Maria was here, or just wait and see what time he bothered to show for their date?

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “Garda Flannery.”

  “No investigating. We’re on the drink tonight, and that’s that.”

  “It’s not work-related. Macdara asked me here tonight.”

  “Like a date, like?”

  “I think so.”

  “You’re joking me.”

  Siobhán didn’t like her tone. She’d been dying to see Maria all year, and this was nothing like she imagined their reunion would be. “You don’t think he’s cute?”

  “He’s going to stay in Kilbane the rest of his life, and all he’s looking for is a woman to pop out his babies. You, on the other hand, are coming to Dublin. Why put him through all that?”

  “I can’t come to Dublin. I have five siblings and a bistro.”

  “Don’t start. The only way you’re stuck here for the rest of your life, Siobhán O’Sullivan, is if you think you are.”

  “I do. I think I am.”

  “You’re too young to throw away your entire future. But enough of that. Look at you. Your little black dress. You look like a city girl. We’re going to have some craic tonight.” Maria took her hand and pulled her to the bar.

  Declan was over in a jiffy, smiling, setting up coasters. “Trouble is back in town, I see,” he said to Maria with a wink. “Where’s your third wheel?”

  “Right,” Siobhán said. “That’s what I want to know.”

  Maria smiled at Declan but didn’t make eye contact with Siobhán. “She’s in Dublin. In fact, I’m only here for a wee visit meself. We rented a flat near Grafton Street for the summer.”

  Maria’s words were like a thousand paper cuts to Siobhán’s heart. Of course they did. They couldn’t even bother coming home for the summer for her. And why should they? They were young and free. This was the time of their lives. It came around once. Once. And they knew better than to waste it. Maria was still prattling on to a smiling Declan.

  “Aisling’s got a new beau. He’s Scottish, can ye believe it? I told her he was going to be tight in the pockets, and she said that was just what she was looking for in a man.” Maria threw her head back and cackled. Then she got it under control but was still smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary. “She sends her love, but I told her we’d get you to Dublin soon anyway.”

  Siobhán would have to bite back her jealousy. Easier said than done when her stomach was already flipping inside out. She ordered a Guinness, and Maria made a face. They always got a pint of Guinness when they went out. At least to start.

  “I’ll have a martini,” Maria said to Declan as if they were ordered all the time. “Straight up with a twist of lime.”

  “How about vodka in a pint glass with a lemon?” Declan said. Maria just looked at him. “Tell you what. I’ll throw a wee umbrella in there. A tourist left it here last summer. Been waiting to use it ever since.” He flashed his gap-toothed grin, rubbed his hands in delight, then lumbered to the other end of the bar, where he bent over and began rummaging around the shelves.

  “How can you stand it here?” Maria said as if she was a tourist herself.

  Did she mean the pub or Kilbane? “It’s not that bad. And you have to admit we’ve had quite a bit of excitement since ye left.”

  Maria waved her hand as if brushing off Siobhán’s words. “There are loads of murders in Dublin. Like every week.”

  Siobhán was sure that was a fine bit of exaggerating, but she kept her gob shut. Maria and Aisling were still her best friends, no matter how much had changed. “You’ve only been gone since the fall.”

  “And yet I’m a completely different person.”

  “You look the same to me.” Siobhán was the one who had a new haircut, and a scooter, and had a murderer after her. She didn’t want to be bitter, but she hadn’t prepared for this. Seeing Maria would have been tough under any circumstance. But Maria didn’t even seem to understand the gravity of what was going on. Would she really rather talk about martinis and flats near Grafton Street instead of who could have stabbed Niall Murphy to death?

  Declan put their drinks in front of them. Maria did indeed have vodka in a pint glass with a green umbrella set on top like a lid. “Let’s get the table in the back,” Siobhán said to Maria. Siobhán turned to Declan. “If Garda Flannery comes in, will ye tell him I’m sitting back there.”

  “Will do, petal,” Decl
an said with another wink. Siobhán wondered if he ever got eyelid fatigue.

  Siobhán steered them to a table right by the band. Pio was only a few feet away. Sheila sat in her own chair directly in front of the stage, her legs open wide, her pint glass resting on her knee as she tapped her foot along to the music. Siobhán had to hand it to her; she was very confident for her size, not afraid to take up space in the world. That was how it should be, although Sheila scared the bejaysus out of her.

  “Did you ever meet up with Niall in Dublin?” Siobhán asked Maria, trying to sound casual.

  “Of course not,” Maria said. “I was never friends with Niall.”

  “I know. I just wondered if you ever saw him about town, or knew where he lived, who he hung out with, if he had a girlfriend.”

  “Oh my God, you sound like Ciarán. All CSI.”

  “My brother is sitting in jail for his murder. What do you expect?”

  “I’m sorry, I am,” Maria said. She placed her hand over Siobhán’s. “I heard he confessed.”

  Siobhán pulled her hand away. “He did not confess.”

  “I thought he blacked out. Did it in a drunken rage?”

  “It’s not true.”

  “Well, the guards think it’s him, don’t they?”

  “They made a mistake. That’s why I’m investigating.”

  “First your parents, now James. I would be a right nutter too. It’s too much.”

  Siobhán leaned across the table and scrutinized her friend. Maria did look the same. Very typical pale Irish face with pretty dark hair, and brown eyes. Petite, except for the lungs on her; she had a boisterous voice and an endless thirst for good craic. But she was also her friend, and she’d known James her whole life. If she didn’t believe James was innocent, that meant no one else did either. Even if James was released, they would all titter about him as if he’d done it but had just gotten away with it. The only way their lives were ever going to go back to normal was if Siobhán exposed the true killer. She was wasting her time trying to convince Maria of anything.

  “Tell me all about Trinity,” Siobhán said, and hoped it wasn’t obvious, as her friend began to rattle on, that Maria may have had her ear but she was keeping her eye on the rest of the room. Siobhán was just getting the hang of pretending to listen when the band took a break and Pio practically flew over to their table. He stared down at Siobhán, eyes flashing.

  “We need to talk,” Pio said. Siobhán glanced at Maria. “Not her, you.” Pio grabbed Siobhán’s elbow and hoisted her up. “Let’s go for a smoke.”

  Chapter 33

  “I don’t smoke,” Siobhán said as he began to drag her to the back patio.

  “I’ll smoke for ye,” Pio said. The patio was no bigger than a few hundred square feet with broken-up bricks and old Guinness signs discarded on the floor. A picnic table that had seen better days housed coffee cans for cigarette butts, but the ground still took most of them. Siobhán coughed and tried to move out of the path of the smoke from the others out to indulge their nicotine habit, which was virtually impossible. Pio lit his cigarette without taking his eyes off her.

  “You sounded great,” Siobhán said. She tried to smile.

  “I heard you were asking around again about that broken vase,” Pio said.

  “How did you hear?” Siobhán said.

  “You can’t keep secrets in Kilbane.” Pio blew smoke directly at her.

  “Some people seem to be getting away with it,” Siobhán said.

  Pio glared at her. “What’s your theory?”

  “I saw Sheila the morning of the murder. Coming into the house with a black rubbish bag.”

  “Broken vase. End of story.”

  “Sheila is allergic to flowers. Sounds like ‘To be continued. . . ’ to me.” He was trying to bully her, and she wasn’t going to let him.

  “Is that all you’ve got?”

  “Sheila was a right mess the next time I saw her, yet the salon smelled like bleach. She also had a bruise. That was especially disturbing.” Siobhán met Pio’s gaze head-on.

  “Your theory?” Pio repeated.

  “Maybe Niall broke into your house that night. Smashed a window. Maybe he attacked Sheila. Maybe she grabbed the nearest pair of scissors, or you did. That would have been self-defense. But then you got scared. So you dragged his body across to our place. Cleaned up. Maybe Sheila threw away something she regretted, then went back to the trash can.”

  “We dragged his body across the street? How did we get into your bistro?”

  That was where her theory didn’t quite float. Because in order to bring Niall in through the back garden, they would have had to carry his body all the way down the street, then around back to the road behind their place. “I hadn’t completely worked it out,” Siobhán admitted.

  “I liked your parents,” Pio said. “They minded their own business.”

  “Sheila was hiding something. She was acting very strange.”

  “Ah, for feck’s sakes,” a female voice from behind them said. Sheila entered the patio and came up to Siobhán. “You just won’t let it go, will ye?”

  “It’s not a matter of won’t,” Siobhán said. “I can’t.”

  “You’re right,” Sheila said. “I was hiding something.”

  “It’s none of her business,” Pio said.

  “I’m going to tell her,” Sheila said.

  Finally. A confession? Should she be worried? Neither of them looked as if they were about to kill her. And there were the other smokers. Still, was this how killers confessed to murder? “The glass was from a broken vase. But not just any vase. It was the one your parents brought back from Waterford.”

  The Waterford crystal. After the accident dozens of gifts were found in the trunk of their parents’ car. Siobhán couldn’t bear to look at them. How could inanimate objects survive and her parents be gone? She’d given them all away, hadn’t paid a lick of attention to who took what. “Why would you take the vase when you hate flowers?”

  “It wasn’t for me. You were giving away all those gifts during such a tough time. I didn’t want you regretting it one day, wishing you’d kept something. So I was going to save it for you.”

  A lump grew in Siobhán’s throat. That was actually very thoughtful. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge Sheila. “Well, why didn’t you just tell me that earlier?”

  “I didn’t want to upset you. The fact is that I accidentally broke it. I felt real bad about it. That’s why I wanted to try and put it back together.”

  “I see.”

  “And I know what else you’re thinking. Pio doesn’t hit me.” Pio stared at Siobhán, as if waiting for an apology. Sheila held up her beer. “So I like to have a few. Sometimes I stumble home. Sometimes I fall.”

  “Sometimes she pukes,” Pio said. Sheila glared at him. He shrugged. “I’m just explainin’ the bleach.”

  “It’s also why Pio had the lights blaring. Said I had to stop trying to stumble in in the dark or folks would start spreading rumors that he was abusing me.” Sheila barked out a laugh and smacked Pio across the chest with the back of her hand. “Little did ye know we’d get accused of being cold-blooded murderers instead!” she said. She roared with laughter.

  Pio nodded seriously, then pointed at Siobhán. “Can you please eliminate us from your list?”

  “Who cares about her list?” Sheila said, leaning left as if she were about to topple over.

  “John Butler is off it, and I want off it too!” Pio said.

  Sheila’s eyes went wide. “John Butler? Drumming up business, was he?” She roared with laughter again.

  Oh, God. Siobhán remembered what she hated about small towns. Everyone knew everything. And yet the murderer had managed to keep out of the limelight. “I’m just trying to do what’s right,” Siobhán said. “For all of us.”

  “Sure, sure,” Pio said. He dropped his cigarette to the patio floor, crushed it with his foot. “Well, now you know,” he said. He headed b
ack inside.

  Sheila stared at Siobhán.

  “I’m sorry,” Siobhán said. She wasn’t really, but she was still afraid of Sheila.

  “There is something I’ve just discovered,” Sheila said. “I put a call in to Garda Flannery, but I haven’t heard back.” She glanced around the patio as if worried someone would overhear. “And since Garda Flannery is sweet on you, maybe you can give him the news.”

  “Garda Flannery and I are just friends.” Siobhán’s voice cracked.

  Sheila rolled her eyes. “Since you and Garda Flannery are so friendly, like, I was wondering if you would tell him for me. Just in case he’s a bit browned off that I didn’t notice it earlier. Because I should have mentioned it. I don’t know why I didn’t. And the longer I waited, the harder it was to confess.”

  “Confess what?”

  Sheila took Siobhán by the elbow and maneuvered her into a back corner of the patio. Then she leaned in. Siobhán wanted to recoil from the smell of beer and cigarette smoke, but there was nowhere to go. “I’d ordered two different types of scissors,” she said in a harsh whisper.

  “Okay,” Siobhán said. She had no idea why Sheila was so intense.

  “One was just for promotions, like the box you refused to take.” Sheila glared again as if waiting for another apology. Siobhán remained silent. “The other was actual scissors for the salon.”

  “For the salon?”

  “For cutting hair, like. They still had the same pink handles, but they were sharper. Much sharper. I only ordered three of them. I was keeping them for work, like. After Niall was stabbed, I should have realized the promotional scissors weren’t sharp enough to do the job. But I wasn’t thinking. I was in shock, like. And the drink has a way of knocking all the sense out of me head. It wasn’t until just this morning, when I had an appointment, that I finally noticed one of the salon scissors was missing. I’m betting it was the pair found in Niall.”

  “Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell Garda Flannery straightaway?”

  “I did leave him a message to call me straightaway. He hasn’t called me back, like.” Sheila edged closer. “Do you really think it’s important?”