A few minutes later, Chris and Siobhán stood back on the porch. The search of the house had turned up absolutely nothing.
“Now what?” Chris Gorden asked. “Are you going to break into everyone’s home and see who has Niall’s bag?”
Siobhán shook her head. “It could be in the trash or in the creek by now.” The only things she found in the house were cut-up magazines, as she suspected. If Mary Murphy was telling the truth, the suspects were down to three.
“Be careful,” Chris said.
“I will.”
“You weren’t afraid of me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You walked right into the house with me. Alone. Unarmed. What if I was the killer?”
“Are you the killer?”
Chris laughed. “No. But you didn’t know that.”
“Mary Murphy wasn’t afraid to talk in front of you.”
“And you think she knows who the killer is?”
“I think she believes it’s one of those three. Besides, if I turned up dead, Mary Murphy and Alison Tierney would have known it was you. Plus, I texted Garda Flannery and told him exactly where I was.”
Not that he’d be able to reach her in time. Siobhán left that bit out. Chris was right. Only an eejit would follow a potential killer into his home all alone. Had she been assuming he wasn’t the killer because she didn’t want him to be? Too gorgeous to be a killer, he was. But shouldn’t the ones she didn’t suspect at all be the ones to look out for? Wasn’t it always the one you least suspected?
What a sick game. She suspected everyone and no one equally. She wasn’t cut out for this. And she was still standing here, chatting away, not a bit afraid for her life. Then again, she’d survived this far she might as well get a bit more out of him. She’d make sure she never put herself in such a vulnerable position again.
“Why did you buy this house?” Siobhán said. “I thought you were looking for a place in town.”
“For my business,” Chris said. “This will be my home.”
“What is your business?”
Chris smiled. “You’ll just have to wait for my grand opening.”
“I suppose Courtney Kirby’s place will be up for sale,” Siobhán said. She wanted to weep. Poor Courtney. They had to catch the killer.
“I was thinking I could do with a pint,” Chris said. “Would you like to join me?” He gave her a long look. He knew she wanted to talk to Declan. It couldn’t be him. She loved Declan. Everyone loved Declan. The town might survive two murders, but she didn’t see how anyone would get over it if the oldest living publican in Kilbane did it. Siobhán would have to be careful what she said to him as well. Accusing Declan was right up there with accusing Father Kearney. She sighed and hopped on her scooter. Chris pointed to the seat.
“Mind if I hop on?”
“I’ve only had it a short while. I’m a bit wobbly.”
“I like to live dangerously.” Siobhán gave a nod, Chris jumped on the back, and they were off. As she zoomed along the back road, she tried not to admit how good it felt to have Chris’s arms wrapped around her waist, and she prayed it would never get back to Macdara.
Chapter 38
Declan flashed his gap-toothed grin, and if he thought it was odd to see Siobhán enter with the Yank, he didn’t let on. And why would he? He probably knew more about every person in town than anyone realized. Bartenders didn’t talk out of school, and Declan O’Rourke was a large man who didn’t suffer fools. What if Mary Murphy had lied about who she had e-mailed? It was definitely a possibility with Declan. But had she lied about all three?
Mike Granger was sitting at the bar. And so was a haggard-looking Bridie. Would ye look at that—all three of her suspects in one place. Just as Siobhán was trying to figure out what to do, her mobile rang. It was Macdara. Declan set a pint of Guinness in front of her.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I have to take this call.” She hurried out to the back patio and quickly filled Macdara in on her visit with Mary Murphy. Then, to her surprise, Macdara filled her in on what the guards were doing.
“We’re seizing Courtney’s computer, and Sheila has given us a list of her most recent customers,” he said. “And I’ll be able to track Mary Murphy down if I need her. She’s moving into an apartment in Cork. Near the prison.”
“Don’t we have enough for the authorities to let James go?” Siobhán said.
“I’ve petitioned for his release,” Macdara said. “But the sergeant hasn’t ruled out the possibility of two killers.”
“The chances of that are nil,” Siobhán said. “But we do have one blackmailer and one killer.”
“How so?”
“Mary Murphy all but admitted she was trying to get the money from those Niall was already blackmailing.”
“Through e-mail?”
“She thought the Delete button deleted everything.”
“What?”
“Honestly, I have no idea what she was thinking. Guess it was getting time-consuming cutting letters out of magazines.”
“Are you saying she sent you the threatening note?”
“No—she said it was the killer. And she thinks the killer is one of the three she e-mailed—Declan, Bridie, or Mike.” Siobhán whispered the names even though she was alone on the patio. “The sooner you check Courtney’s computer, the better.”
“One of those three?” Macdara said.
“I’m just telling you what Mary said to me.”
“She could have been lying.”
“Don’t I know.” Siobhán filled Macdara in on the search for Niall’s bag and her interaction with Mary. She didn’t mention Chris Gorden. Macdara promised to get access to the computer right away. Siobhán let out a sigh of relief. “Something in those e-mails led to Courtney’s death.”
“If you’re right, this will all be over soon. Promise me you’ll stay out of it until then.” Macdara’s voice was soft but strong.
“I promise.” Siobhán meant it. She wasn’t going to risk her life anymore. Not when so many other lives were counting on her.
“I’ll talk to ye later.”
“Wait. Do you think Niall and Mary would actually blackmail Declan O’Rourke? I mean, they couldn’t possibly have anything on him, could they?” Siobhán didn’t even know she was going to ask it until it was out of her mouth.
“You mean besides who has the biggest bar tab in Kilbane and who has ever shifted who?”
Siobhán laughed. “So you do it too.”
“Do what?”
“Trust your gut during an investigation. Rule people out based on a feeling?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“But you think I’m right? If Mary Murphy had known it wasn’t smart to send threats through e-mail, then Courtney would still be alive.”
Macdara let out a low noise, almost like a growl—a protective growl, if Siobhán had been forced to analyze it. “You have good instincts,” he said. “The killer might have thought it was Courtney threatening them. Too bad the killer didn’t stop to think that Courtney would be smarter than that. But let me bring this home. I don’t want you in harm’s way.” A few folks wandered out onto the patio, and the noise level rose. “Where are you?” Jealousy crept into Macdara’s voice.
“I’m at O’Rourke’s.”
“In the middle of the day?”
“Folks are on edge. Me included. But I’m headed back to the bistro now.”
“I’ll ring ye later,” he said, and then hung up. Odd, she thought as she headed back to the bar. He sounded different with her this time. More intimate. She was right. He’d be green with jealousy if he knew she was hanging out with Chris Gorden. Was she doing anything wrong?
When she got back to the bar, Mike and Bridie were gone. Great. They didn’t want Siobhán questioning them. Nobody wanted to answer her questions anymore.
Wait a minute. She’d just told Macdara that chances were slim that Kilbane had two killers. But what if she�
��d been wrong? What if Bridie and Mike were in on it together? Kilbane’s own Bonnie and Clyde. Suddenly it seemed not only possible, but likely. Bridie would have known about Mary Murphy using Courtney’s e-mail, so she wouldn’t have mistaken Courtney for the blackmailer and killed her.
Unless. What if Courtney wasn’t killed because she was mistaken for the blackmailer? What if Courtney was killed because she read Mary Murphy’s e-mail to the killer? I learned something that’s going to crack the case wide open.
If Bridie and Courtney were so close, why did Courtney call Siobhán instead of Bridie?
Because Bridie was the killer.
My God, could that be it? Could Bridie and Mike be the killers? The more she turned it around in her mind, the more convinced she became. What did she do now? Just wait for Macdara to find the proof?
She glanced at her pint, then at Chris Gorden, who, she just noticed, was watching her intently. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to go.”
“I thought you wanted to talk to Declan,” Chris said.
“You want me alibi, do ye?” Declan said from the far end of the bar. Chris Gorden’s mouth dropped open.
“He hears everything,” Siobhán said.
“I was here, luv, you know that yourself,” Declan said.
“With Séamus?” Siobhán said. She wanted to check on Bridie’s statement.
“You’ve asked me this before. Séamus left at half one to run home to the missus.”
So Bridie had lied. Said she was at her sister’s. There was no doubt. Bridie was a killer. It hardly seemed possible, yet the evidence was mounting. Maybe Mike had kept Niall’s passport because they were planning a quick getaway of their own. Poor Séamus.
Siobhán thought of the visit to the museum. If Séamus hadn’t been there, would Bridie have killed her, too? Bridie and Mike had motive. They had means. Mike said he saw two lads outside his shop, but Mike could have been one of the lads; he could have chased Niall right down the street, to the back of their bistro. He hadn’t gotten up early that morning; he was still up from the evening before.
Bridie and Mike were still in love. That’s why they were in the pub together. Were they on their way to the train station or airport this very moment?
“Did Bridie or Mike Granger say where they were going?” Siobhán asked Declan.
Declan raised his eyebrow. “You’re making it sound like they were going somewhere together. They just happened in at the same time is all.”
“Right. Did either of them say where they were going?”
Declan shook his head and moved away. Siobhán started to leave. Chris put his hand on her arm.
“I heard . . . Bridie, is that her name?” he said.
Siobhán nodded, too worried to speak.
“I heard her tell the man from the store—”
“Mike Granger.”
“She said, ‘I swear.’ Then something about ‘tonight.’”
They were leaving. Tonight. She had to stop them; they couldn’t get away with this. “Thank you.”
Chris smiled. “You might be Nancy Drew, but I’m both Hardy Boys rolled into one.”
“Who are they?”
“Never mind. What’s going on?”
“I have to go,” Siobhán said. She hurried out the front door and called Macdara. It went to voice mail. She hung up. What was she going to do? Wait? Or confront Mike and Bridie?
She exited the pub and ran to her scooter. It looked lower to the ground than usual. She looked closer. Her tires had been slashed; they weren’t just low, they were flat as pancakes. Someone had done this deliberately. Mike and Bridie—who else?
She ran toward Mike’s shop, then ran around it until she reached the back street—the same route Niall and the killer took that night. Maybe it would help to literally follow in their footsteps. By the time she reached her back garden, she was out of breath. Should she ask Séamus to fix her tires before telling him that Bridie was running away with Mike Granger and the two of them were cold-blooded killers?
Siobhán glanced at the garden. Bridie not only knew about that jar, she’d purposefully misdirected Siobhán by telling her she could buy a replacement jar at the hardware store instead of at Courtney’s. Then again, Bridie could have bought the jar at the hardware store as well, like. That bit didn’t matter so much. What did matter was that everything was starting to click into place.
Siobhán walked up to the back door, praying her siblings had locked it. Instead, it opened easily. Siobhán stepped into the bistro. Ann and Gráinne were in the front, drinking tea.
“How many times do I have to remind you to lock this door?” Siobhán said.
“All our customers are in the pubs,” Ann said.
“I want this locked. Always.” The girls nodded.
“Where have you been all day?” Gráinne said. “Is James getting out?”
“I’ll tell ye all at the same time. Where’s Eoin and Ciarán?” Siobhán asked.
“Eoin’s upstairs,” Gráinne said. “Ciarán went to the cycle shop.”
The news stopped Siobhán in her tracks. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled. They had Ciarán. She had to keep calm, not alarm the girls. “Why?”
“Bridie stopped by, said Séamus had a surprise for Ciarán.” Oh, God. She was using him as bait. Bridie wouldn’t harm Ciarán, would she? “Does Ciarán have the mobile on him?” Siobhán heard her voice crack into a higher register.
“I’ve got it,” Gráinne said, holding it aloft. Why didn’t she let Ciarán have his own mobile? Or a puppy? She would let him have one the minute they got him back. Her family was everything. The only thing. Never again would she complain about being stuck here. She wasn’t stuck; she was where she wanted to be. They needed her. She’d been so busy investigating she had let her guard down.
She would never ever let Ciarán out of her sight again, and she would kill them, God help her, if they harmed a single hair on his head; she would kill them. She dialed the number of the cycle shop. After so many trips visiting her scooter, she had it memorized. There was no answer. Bridie knew Siobhán was on to her. She could have her. She could do whatever she wanted to her—as long as she didn’t hurt Ciarán.
She dialed Macdara again. Once more his voice mail picked up. “Call me,” she said, then hung up. She could call the other guards, but what if she was wrong about it all? And what if she was right and they didn’t move fast enough? She couldn’t leave Ciarán all by himself. She had to go.
“There’s no answer at the cycle shop,” she told the girls. “I’m going to fetch him.”
“You sound funny,” Ann said. “What is it?”
“Yes,” Gráinne said. “What is it?”
“Lock all the doors and windows. If I’m not back with Ciarán in thirty minutes, you need to call Garda Flannery and tell him to get over there.”
“You’re scaring me,” Ann said. “What’s the matter with ye?”
“For once I agree with her,” Gráinne said. “What are you hiding?”
“Please. Just do as I say. It’s so important. Stay here. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, call Macdara. And if he doesn’t answer, call the gardai station and have them send whoever is available.”
“Based on what, like? That we haven’t seen you for a half an hour?” Gráinne said.
“Make something up. Just get them there.”
“Are you saying that Séamus is the killer?” Ann asked, wide-eyed.
“No. I’m not saying that at all.” Should she tell them about Bridie and Mike? She didn’t want to alarm them further, and she didn’t want to falsely accuse anyone. It was better they be wary of everyone. “I don’t care if Father Kearney comes knocking on the doors. Do not open them for anyone.”
“Not even for Father Kearney?” Ann asked, wide-eyed.
“Just pretend you’re not home,” Siobhán said. “Until I’m back with Ciarán.”
“Should we get Eoin?” Gráinne said, looking toward the stairs.
<
br /> Eoin would insist on coming with Siobhán. She’d rather he be here to protect the girls. “The minute I’m gone. Stay close to Eoin. But don’t tell him where I’ve gone unless it’s been thirty minutes.”
“If you won’t let us go with you, then you should take Eoin,” Gráinne said.
“No. I want him here. Stay here, and do this for me. Will ye? Please. I need you, I really, really need you to listen.”
“We will,” Gráinne said.
“Cross our hearts and hope to die,” Ann said. She slapped her hand over her mouth as the irony registered.
“Thirty minutes,” Siobhán said.
“We heard you,” Gráinne said, trying to stay brave. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
Chapter 39
Siobhán thanked God she’d kept up with her running. She’d never sprinted so fast in her life. They wouldn’t hurt Ciarán; it was Siobhán they wanted. Oh, please, let Séamus be there. Bridie couldn’t hurt either of them if Séamus was there.
A light rain started to fall just as she reached the cycle shop. She crouched low and snuck up to the window. She peeked in.
Ciarán and Séamus were in the front room, sitting on the floor. Siobhán’s first thought was that Bridie was standing behind them with a gun. Then she saw that they were working on a bicycle. Ciarán was laughing. Thank God. Should she go in with a nod and a smile and just pretend she needed Ciarán back at the bistro?
Where were Bridie and Mike? What if they were hiding, just waiting for her? Siobhán continued to crouch down and began to move alongside the building. Maybe she’d sneak into the backyard, see if there was any sign of Bridie and Mike.
She scrambled alongside the building and soon reached the back field. About ten feet away was Séamus’s private shed. There was no sign of Bridie and Mike. She was about to go back around to the front when something shiny and gold caught her eye. The shed had a fancy new padlock. Why would Séamus bother with a padlock for a beaten-up shed?
Niall’s bag? Bridie didn’t use that shed; Séamus said so himself. What did he call it? His man cave.
Her chest tightened, and her heart started to hammer. And her mind began to go over everything anyone had ever said about Séamus and the case.
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