by Rhys Bowen
Darcy turned on the electric light and his father sat up, blinking. “What the devil?” he demanded.
“We’ve come back with news, Father,” Darcy said. “And Alexandra has been kind enough to bring you a treat for your tea.”
“Oh, thank you, but I don’t feel much like eating these days,” Lord Kilhenny said. “Take them over to Oona.”
“You have to eat,” Zou Zou said firmly. “And speaking of Aunt Oona, we have some lovely things being delivered to her house. Steaks and lamb and pheasant. You must come over to dinner and eat properly for once. I know she has invited you and you turned her down.”
“And I’ll turn her down again,” he said. “I don’t want to be the recipient of charity or pity.”
“You’re a stubborn man,” Zou Zou said. “Well, you don’t have to eat, but we want to. And these look delicious enough to tempt anybody. Besides, I think we could all do with a cup of tea. We’re frozen to the marrow . . . what funny expressions there are in the English language.”
“I’ll go and put the kettle on,” I said. I went through to the kitchen and heard snatches of their conversation as Darcy told his father about the events of the day—the discoveries about the dead man’s fingerprints and face, and our suspicion that he had been drugged that night.
“It’s odd you should say that,” Lord Kilhenny said. “I felt terrible when I woke up in the morning. Oh, I realize I’d had a drink or two, but my brain was in a complete fog. I couldn’t even think clearly when those Garda chaps showed up on my doorstep. So it had to have been the Mickey creature who put something in the stew, didn’t it? I’d wondered about him all along. Never liked the fellow.”
The kettle boiled and I poured the water onto the tea leaves, then carried through the tray.
“So we might learn more about him when they’ve had a chance to examine his fingerprints,” Darcy was saying. “At least we have the American government working on our behalf now. So that’s good, isn’t it?”
His father grunted. I couldn’t tell if he was agreeing or not.
“And we’ve all been busy on your behalf today,” Darcy continued. “Alexandra has been in touch with a QC friend of hers in London and he recommended a barrister to us. We went to see him today. A splendid chap. The best in Dublin, they say. Sir Grenville Hobbes. Of course, Leach is dead against him, but it’s up to you. You’re the client. So can we suggest he come to see you tomorrow and you two can talk? You’ll get along well. He’s one of us. His son went to school with me. And he used to play cricket with you.”
Darcy’s father had been staring at him. Then he said, “You seem to forget one thing, my boy. I am living in this hovel because I have no money. And I’m sure barristers of the quality of Grenville Hobbes don’t work for charity. I can’t pay him. You’ve wasted your time.”
“Lord Kilhenny—Thaddy—” Zou Zou said. “Please don’t worry about the money side of it. The important thing is that you meet this man and you trust him to represent you. I think you’ll be happy to put your life in his hands.”
Lord Kilhenny was frowning now. “Don’t worry about the money side of things? I don’t think you grasp the situation. I cannot pay a barrister.”
“Then you must rely on kind friends who will take care of matters for you,” Zou Zou said.
“What kind friends? I have no friends any longer.”
“You have us,” Zou Zou said.
“No, no, a thousand times no,” Lord Kilhenny roared. “I most certainly will not allow you or anybody to pay for me. Do you hear that? I absolutely forbid it. I do not want your charity.”
Zou Zou’s face had gone very pink. “You really are a most stubborn man,” she said. “And a stupid one too. You should realize that there are people who care about you and want to help you. But fine. If that’s the way you want it, reject our help, just like you have rejected your son all these years. Come on, Darcy, let’s go. We’ll have tea at your great-aunt’s house where we are welcome.”
She made a magnificent exit. Darcy and I hesitated for a moment, both feeling upset and embarrassed.
“We do want to help you, Father,” Darcy said. “But you have to want to help yourself.” He took my arm. “Come, Georgie.” And he led me outside.
We drove through the village, which now looked deserted, everyone having gone inside at the onset of the snow. Night was falling fast and snow now stuck to the windscreen, mounting up as it was pushed aside by the wipers. Darcy muttered a swearword under his breath. “I won’t be staying at Oona’s after I deposit you,” he said. “I’m not looking forward to going back to my father’s, but I think I’ll soon be trapped if I don’t get home quickly. And I don’t want to leave him alone on a night like this.”
“You’re a good son,” Zou Zou said. “He doesn’t deserve you, the way he behaves.”
We left the last lights of the village and were now in darkness with white flakes driving toward us in the headlights’ beams. As we were driving down the hill to the little stone bridge, Darcy saw headlights facing us and suddenly put on the brake. We felt the motorcar sliding on the soft snow. He pumped the brakes but we kept on sliding. Then he turned the wheel into the hedge, we heard the scraping of twigs against the side and luckily we came to a halt.
“What is some fool doing? Is he stuck on the bridge?” he asked. He sounded a little shaken. He got out of the Rolls and walked forward. There appeared to be more than one vehicle ahead of us, although they were just indistinct outlines through the snow.
“What’s going on?” Darcy shouted.
“There’s a car gone off the road into the stream,” someone called back. “We’ve sent for the police and the breakdown lorry from the garage.”
I got out in a hurry and slithered after Darcy, my heart beating very fast. It was an eerie scene with headlights sending narrow shafts of light and snow swirling. Below us we could hear the water rushing. Where it had tripped merrily over rocks before, it was now a raging torrent, and in the blackness we could make out the shape of a vehicle. What was more, I recognized that distinct shape. It was a taxi. And inside the cab I could make out a white hand up against the window.
Chapter 32
LATE EVENING, DECEMBER 5
AT MOUNTJOY.
Not much joy tonight.
We were a somber group as we drove up to Mountjoy. We had stayed until help arrived. Of course Barney was quite dead, having pitched forward and hit his head against the windscreen.
“He must have taken that sharp bend too fast and skidded over the side,” Darcy said in a shaken voice. “Poor man. You saw how easily something like that could happen.”
I did see. In fact I was still shivering. But a whisper was nagging at the back of my mind. I had asked Barney about Professor Peabody, and he had died. And Mickey had observed us on his way to the pub. Had he waited until we drove off, then asked Barney to drive him, and then orchestrated his death? Hit him on the head and then taken off the brake and headed him for the river, maybe? It was now clear to me that this whole business was much more than a burglary gone wrong, a simple feud. It was well thought-out and I suspected that Mickey was at the heart of it. I prayed that our fingerprints would reveal something of importance.
“You were brilliant to save us, Darcy,” Zou Zou said. “I hope they delivered my goodies before the weather set in. I am in desperate need of a glass of champagne, aren’t you?”
“I thought you wanted tea and cakes,” I said.
“That was before the tragedy,” she said. “One needs something stronger to bolster the nerves.”
Oona met us at the front door. “Beastly night. Glad you made it safely. Dooley was getting worried,” she said. “Are you staying for dinner, Darcy? I’ve cooked the pheasant that Her Highness so kindly had delivered. I hope that was all right?”
“All right? It was splendid,” Zou Zou said. “And I hope the c
hampagne was delivered too?”
“Out in the washhouse, keeping cold,” Oona said.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay, Aunt Oona,” Darcy said. “I should get back to my father before the snow gets too thick.”
“It’s a damned blizzard out there. We hardly ever see snow, at least not like this. I wonder if it will be a white Christmas.”
It was funny but I had completely forgotten that Christmas was approaching. It was as if time had stood still since Darcy and I had driven north that night.
“You have to stay and have a drink first, Darcy,” Zou Zou said. “Steady your nerves.”
“Steady his nerves?” Oona asked. “What for?”
“There was a nasty accident at the bridge,” Darcy said.
“I thought I heard the bell of a police car,” she said. “What happened?”
“It was the taxi from Kildare.”
“Poor old Barney? We’ve used him a few times when Dooley didn’t feel like driving. Nice chap. A bit too friendly. Or should one say nosy. Is he all right?”
“He’s dead,” I heard myself saying. “His car went into the water.”
“How terribly sad. What a shock for you to come upon that. A cup of tea, do you think, or something stronger? Brandy?”
“I think we should open a champagne,” Zou Zou said. “Not that we’ve anything to celebrate, but I find it always goes down well at moments of stress.”
“Good show. Brilliant idea,” Oona said. “I’ll tell Treadwell. He’s making apple dumplings with the help of your girl, Georgie. I must say she’s a good little cook.”
“Queenie?” I asked. “She’s a good cook?”
“Yes. And so willing. She was obviously so upset by what she did last night that she’s been trying desperately to be helpful.”
This did not sound like Queenie at all. I was almost tempted to tiptoe into the kitchen and see if her body had been taken over by one of the family ghosts, when the girl herself appeared, carrying a tray.
“Mr. Treadwell told me to bring these through to the sitting room,” she said. “They’re cheese straws. Just came out of the oven.”
She looked around for somewhere to put them. As usual there was no clear surface. But Oona stepped up and took the tray from her. “I’ll pass them around, my dear. Will you make sure the table is laid in the dining room? We’ll be four for dinner. Mr. O’Mara will not be staying, I regret to say.”
I waited for her to say “Bob’s yer uncle” but to my astonishment she said, “Very good, Lady Whyte.”
Champagne was poured. Cheese straws were handed around as we related the events of the day.
“I knew young Thaddy couldn’t have done it,” Dooley said. “Now the truth will come out. Well done.”
“We’re not home free yet, Uncle Dooley,” Darcy said. “Chief Inspector Callahan will take some convincing. But at least he’ll be held up from going ahead with the trial until all the facts are in, and that could take a while.”
On that somber note Darcy bade us farewell. I followed him to the front door, where he gave me a chaste but tender kiss.
“Take care of yourself, won’t you?” I whispered.
He gave me a questioning look.
“I’m wondering whether Barney’s death was an accident, and I’m beginning to believe that Mickey is at the bottom of this whole thing. He watched me talking to Barney earlier when I asked him about Professor Peabody. And a little while later Barney is dead. You and your father should take extra care.”
Darcy nodded. “But if he is behind all this, then why wait this long to kill Roach? He’s been with him—what—four years? Plenty of opportunity to kill him before then and plenty of chances to make it look like an accident too. Kilhenny is an old castle. There are crooked steps, dark corners, lots of opportunities to give someone a push.”
I had to grin. “If we ever live there and I come into money, then I’ll watch my back.”
“Are you likely to come into money?” he asked. There was the slightest hint of a smile on that worried face.
“I am the only heir to Sir Hubert Anstruther, remember. But he’s hale and hearty and not even fifty yet, so I’ll be ancient by the time he dies.”
Darcy wrapped me in his arms. “We’ll manage somehow. We’ll survive on our own, if we can just get through this.” He kissed me again, this time with real passion, leaving me breathless as he ran out into the swirling snow.
Dinner was a masterpiece. The pheasant was tender enough to eat with a spoon, the gravy rich and the apple dumplings perfect. I was relieved that Treadwell served at table and didn’t ask Queenie to help. I was dreading the thought of custard spilled over the princess’s dress. In fact I didn’t see Queenie until I went up to bed.
“I’ve brought up a hot water bottle, my lady,” Queenie said. “I thought you’d like a warm bed.”
“Queenie?” I looked at her. “I’ve had glowing reports on you today. What happened?”
“Well, miss,” she said, looking down at her hands, “after what I did last night, I saw that I was a right bloomin’ failure, and what’s more, I was a discredit to you, who’s been so kind to me. So I decided I’d try really hard and make myself a credit to you.”
I felt a lump come into my throat. “Why, Queenie, I’m impressed and pleased. And I hear that you are a good cook too. I never knew that.”
She made a face. “Not really, miss. I just know how to make a couple of things and custard is one of them. And I did knock over a jug of milk, but luckily the cat lapped it up before Mr. Treadwell saw.”
As she spoke, she helped me out of my dress and hung it in the wardrobe. Then she helped me on with my nightdress. “Anything else, my lady?” she asked.
“No, thank you, Queenie. You can go to bed now,” I said. I felt a great bubble of happiness inside. Queenie was going to turn into a real lady’s maid and Fig was going to have to approve, and I would never have to worry. . . . I slid under the covers and recoiled as my foot touched warm wetness. I turned back the sheets.
“Queenie!” I called as she was disappearing down the hall. She came running back.
“Yes, my lady?” she asked sweetly.
“My bed has turned into a lake. You didn’t put the stopper on the hot water bottle properly,” I said.
“Nobody’s perfect,” she replied.
We spent the next hour drying the sheets in front of the fire. Luckily the moisture hadn’t been there long enough to soak into the mattress but I was cold, tired and crotchety by the time I finally went to bed. Would she ever cease to be a liability, I wondered. How could I keep her as my maid if and when I married Darcy?
Chapter 33
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 6
A SNOWY DAY IN KILHENNY.
The next morning we woke to a Christmas card scene with a sparkling snowy landscape and smoke curling from cottage chimneys. Darcy came over around ten, announcing that the snow was already starting to melt and it should be safe to drive where we wanted to go. We debated what we could possibly do until we got more news from Mr. Lennox at the embassy. Zou Zou was all for driving around and trying to locate Professor Peabody or the young priest. Darcy looked doubtful. “They could be anywhere by now and we don’t know when all the roads will be clear. I’m afraid we’ll just have to sit and wait.”
“At least we can go and check on my poor little aeroplane,” Zou Zou said. “I want to know if it’s still in one piece.”
“Are planes not supposed to withstand the elements?” Darcy asked, looking amused.
“A little rain maybe, but not mountains of snow.”
We drove toward the village. Men were still working at the site of the accident. A winch had now been attached to the taxi and they were attempting to haul it out as rushing water splashed over it. We skirted them and drove cautiously up the hill. As we passed through the village I
spotted Mrs. Murphy standing outside the Harp, chatting with some women.
“Wait,” I said, touching Darcy’s arm. “I’ve just thought of something that might shed some light on poor Barney’s death. I won’t be a minute.” I got out of the car and hurried over to the pub. Mrs. Murphy was about to go in at the side door when I caught up with her.
She turned back as I called her name. “I was wondering whether the American man’s servant, Mickey Riley, often comes into your pub in the evening.”
She nodded. “He’s been coming here for all his meals since the tragedy. Never says a word, though, or talks with the local men. Keeps himself to himself. Eats in a corner and then goes again. Unfriendly type, I’d say.”
“I think I saw him going into your pub yesterday evening,” I said. “Do you happen to remember what time he left?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It was a busy night, my dear. We’re always run off our feet these days, what with all the visitors from out of town. I remember seeing him, but that’s about it.”
So I was none the wiser when I returned to Darcy and Zou Zou. Then Zou Zou insisted she had to visit her aeroplane to make sure it was all right. This time the constable on duty waved us past. Apart from a coating of snow on the tarpaulin, the plane seemed to have weathered the storm quite well.
“As soon as the snow melts I’m going to fly around looking for this Professor Peabody,” she said. “I could cover so much more ground than we could in the motorcar.”
Darcy had to laugh. “You can’t buzz every village, Zou Zou. And I feel you’d be rather conspicuous. We don’t want the whole world knowing what we’re doing. It would make more sense to ask at the train station and the harbor to see whether he has already left Ireland.”
“You spoil all the fun,” she said.
