by Zara Keane
I took the hint and followed him into the hallway. “Enjoy the scones,” I said when I’d put my winter jacket back on.
He snorted. “Is ‘enjoy’ the right word?”
“Maybe not.” I stepped outside the house. “Try ‘survive’ instead.”
Paddy gave a bark of laughter. Despite myself, I had a grudging liking for the man, and I suspected it was mutual. “Give my regards to Noreen,” he said. “And Maggie?”
I looked over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“You’re looking in the wrong place for answers. You’d do better to look at your past.”
With those cryptic words, Paddy Driscoll slammed his door in my face.
18
The next couple of days were hectic. Each day after work, I tracked down members of the Movie Club to question or re-question, but no one had anything new or interesting to add. Brid Kelly at the Whisper Island Medical Centre didn’t seem concerned about the blind item Sandra had allegedly written about her. The one club member I’d been unable to talk to was Maria Reilly, the doctor’s wife, who’d gone to Dublin to visit her sick mother.
By the weekend, Noreen was feeling better. I arranged for Kelly to cover my Sunday morning shift at the café while I accompanied my aunt to Mass.
“Since when are you a regular churchgoer?” Noreen demanded when we pulled into the church parking lot. “I remember you complaining every Sunday when you were a teenager.”
“I’ve turned over a new leaf,” I said primly. “I even wore a rosary, purloined from your mantelpiece.” I unzipped the top of my jacket to reveal the butt-ugly mother of pearl rosary underneath.
My aunt made the sign of the cross. “You don’t wear a rosary, Maggie. It’s not like a crucifix.”
“Why not? It fits around my neck.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Give it here.” She took the beads off me and slipped them into her coat pocket. “You won’t have a clue when to sit, kneel, or stand.”
“No problem,” I said confidently. “I’ll just follow your example.”
Muttering, my aunt got out of the car, and I followed suit. The wind was gale force and icy cold this morning, and the stone path up to the church was like an ice rink. I slipped twice but only landed on my behind once. I considered that a victory.
When we reached the entrance, I could finally take a break from concentrating on my feet and admire my surroundings. St. Brendan’s Church dated from the twelfth century, although little remained from the original structure. It was an imposing stone edifice located on the edge of one of Whisper Island’s most dramatic cliffs. When I was a kid, I’d sit on one of the benches in front of the church and stare out at the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, awed in the certainty that if I kept going straight, I’d reach America. My enthusiasm hadn’t been dampened when my aunt had pointed out that my latitudinal calculations weren’t accurate, and that I’d actually land in Canada.
Noreen slipped her arm through mine and urged me up the steps and into the church. “Why did you want to come, Maggie? Was it to give me moral support? Because there’s no need. Anyone foolish enough to believe I killed Sandra doesn’t deserve to be my friend.”
“I want a chance to scope out the suspects in their natural habitats. I figured some of the oldies would hang out here on a Sunday morning.”
Despite her best efforts to hold it in, Noreen burst out laughing. “You’re right on that score. The young people prefer to go to St. Jude’s in Smuggler’s Cove.” She dropped her voice to a confidential whisper. “Their priest has a guitar.”
“A guitar…right.” I blinked, casting my mind to the church services I’d attended with my non-Catholic mother. “I guess that means we don’t have one here?”
Noreen grinned. “Oh, no. Just you wait.”
At that moment, bombastic organ music boomed through the building, sending my heart rate soaring.
“Whoa. That thing’s loud.”
My aunt dragged me to a pew where Philomena and John had saved us seats. I noted that Julie hadn’t subjected herself to this morning’s Organ Special.
During the ceremony, I scanned the congregation. As Noreen had said, none of the younger members of the Movie Club were present. I spotted Joan Sweetman seated on a pew with Miss Flynn, Miss Murphy, and Cormac Tate. The Two Gerries sat beside each other, and I recalled Lenny mentioning that both men were widowers of long-standing.
When it was time to pass around the collection box, Sister Pauline supervised, reminding me about the blind item concerning a nun and stolen money. I ran through the published blind items in my head. I’d already spoken to Joan and Paddy Driscoll. Lenny, Julie, and Philomena had all denied they’d been a blind item subject, although I couldn’t help feeling that Philomena was holding something back. That left the Spinsters, Sister Pauline, and Paul Greer. They’d all been implicated in blind items, either published ones or unpublished.
I didn’t have long to wait for an opportunity to speak to Miss Flynn. Much to Noreen’s disgust, I’d worn my running gear under my church clothes and intended to avail of the chance of a run on this side of the island. After the service had finished, we congregated on the steps outside.
“Are you sure you don’t want a lift home with me?” Noreen asked, eyeing with distaste the flash of hot pink from the running shirt that my sweater didn’t quite cover. “It’s a cold morning to go jogging.”
“I like running in the cold. I’ll soon warm up.” I stripped off my coat and sweater and handed them to my aunt. “Thanks for taking these.”
“No problem. Will you be back in time for lunch? I’m making a roast with three veg.”
I grinned. “Oh, yeah. I love your roasts. If you’re cooking, I’ll clean up after.”
Noreen patted my arm. “We’ll worry about that later. Enjoy your run.”
“I will.” I waved goodbye to Philomena and John and proceeded with caution down the slippery path. Once I reached the road, I’d run on the fields beside it.
I’d reached the graveyard and put music on when I chanced on Miss Flynn putting flowers on a grave. I slowed to a halt and removed my earbuds. “Morning, Miss Flynn.”
“Hello, Maggie.” She stood and wiped snow from her coat. “My parents,” she said when she joined me at the gate. “I find it’s bleak out here in the winter. I like to add a little color to their grave.”
“That’s a lovely idea.”
We fell into step with one another, following the trail beside the winding stone wall that surrounded the graveyard.
“I like to stretch my legs after Mass,” Miss Flynn explained. “Milly’s rheumatism acts up this time of year, and she doesn’t care to go for our usual walk.”
“I can walk with you, if that’s okay.” Chance had offered me the perfect opportunity to speak to Miss Flynn alone, and I had no intention of wasting it.
“You’re welcome to walk with me, dear.” She looked me up and down. “But won’t my pace be rather tame for you? You’re dressed for jogging.”
I laughed. “I’m not going to make you run. I’m happy for us to walk and talk.”
“Ah,” she said shrewdly. “You want to talk to me alone about Sandra’s death.”
No point in denying it. “Yeah. I’m glad to catch you away from the café.”
Miss Flynn’s face contorted. “How that dreadful man can think Noreen was responsible for Sandra’s death is beyond me. I’m glad you’re on the case, Maggie.”
“Not officially,” I said hastily. “Sergeant O’Shea’s already warned me off more than once.”
Miss Flynn waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “That fool. Ignore him. If it were left up to O’Shea, Noreen would already be in prison, and he’d be back spending his days on the golf course.”
As this was exactly my take on the situation, I nodded. “What can you tell me about Sandra?”
“Probably what you’ve heard from everyone else—I didn’t like her.” Miss Flynn frowned. “Melanie’s claims that her mother was
Miss Popularity are absurd. I don’t for one instant think she believes it. Her relationship with Sandra wasn’t always smooth sailing.”
The wheels in my mind whirred. “Really? Melanie gave me the impression that she and Sandra were close.”
Miss Flynn laughed. “Hardly. Melanie and Sandra presented a united front when they had a common cause, but other than that, Melanie avoided her mother. I got the impression that Melanie felt Sandra beneath her, especially once she’d married into the wealthiest family on the island.”
“But Sandra had money,” I pointed out. “And plenty of it from what I heard.”
“Yes, but not when the children were small. She sold the land at exactly the right time and made a killing on it.” Miss Flynn winced at her own words. “Well, you know what I mean. At any rate, Sandra had money in her later years, but not an ounce of class.”
We walked on in silence for a couple of minutes while I weighed what she’d said. “Did Sandra do anything to you?” I asked finally. “Like, spread a nasty rumor?”
Miss Flynn raised an eyebrow. “Apart from the one about Milly and me living in sin?”
“Yes.”
The older woman hunched her shoulders, and a shuttered expression came over her face. “Yes. There was a second blind item that upset me, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“I know it’s hard, but I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me what was in it. I have a list of all the blind items that appeared in the Gazette and I’m trying to match them up with the people they referred to.” This wasn’t entirely true. I was ignoring the obviously petty ones that were unlikely to drive a person to murder, and two of the infidelity blinds were too obscure for me to decipher.
Miss Flynn removed a cloth handkerchief from her coat pocket and blew her nose delicately. “All right. I’ll tell you, but only if you promise not to breathe a word about it to anyone else.”
“If it has no bearing on Sandra’s murder, sure.”
She took a ragged breath. “I won the annual baking contest with—” she broke off on a sob, “—a shop-bought cake.”
A gurgle of laughter surged up my throat. I coughed into my fist. “You cheated in a baking contest?”
“Yes.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m a fraud. Everyone would be disappointed in me if they knew.”
“Cheating in a baking contest isn’t a capital offense,” I said. “People would get over it pretty quick. Besides, Whisper Island is a small community. It would be yesterday’s news before long, and someone else would be in the spotlight.”
Miss Flynn clutched at her pearls. I hadn’t known that people did that outside of books. “Maggie, please don’t tell anyone. I couldn’t bear people knowing. The neighbors…”
“I won’t say a word. It has nothing to do with Sandra Walker’s death, and that’s all I’m interested in at the moment.”
“Thank you, dear. Thank you so much. If Milly knew, she’d be devastated. I’ve always snuck shop-bought treats into the house and claimed I’d made them.”
“Miss Murphy lives with you but doesn’t know you can’t bake?”
“No,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I’ve cheated for years. I know it’s silly. I did it once, when we’d first gotten to know each other, and I wanted to impress her. One white lie led to two, and it went from there.”
I gave a crack of laughter. “Maybe I should try that trick at the café. If I tell everyone Noreen baked everything, people might start eating the scones again.”
Despite herself, Miss Flynn giggled. “Your scones are improving. It’s almost a disappointment. I loved Gerry Logan’s expression when he bit into one of your first attempts.”
“At least no one’s died,” I said before I caught myself.
“Yes.” Miss Flynn’s tone was serious again. “Apart from Sandra. It’s a dreadful thing to say of the dead, but she was an awful woman.”
“Let me guess—you didn’t like the woman, but…?”
The older woman nodded. “Exactly. I didn’t like her, but I didn’t kill her.”
In other words, the same story so many others had told me up ‘til now.
We reached the end of the wall and Miss Flynn slowed to a stop. “I’d better walk back. Milly is cooking Sunday lunch, and I don’t want to be late. Have a nice day, Maggie.”
“Same to you. And thanks again for confiding in me.” A thought struck me. “Miss Flynn? Before you go, there are two blind items about cheaters. Any idea who they might be about? I’ve made discreet inquiries, but no one seems to know. Or rather they could potentially apply to several people.”
Miss Flynn cocked her head to the side, a pensive expression on her birdlike features. “As odd as it sounds, I’m fairly sure one of the blinds about a cheating spouse referred to Sandra’s son-in-law, Paul Greer.”
I stared at her, open-mouthed. Why would Sean Clough let Sandra put in a blind item about her son-in-law’s infidelity when he’d already vetoed another about Paul on the grounds that he didn’t want Sandra using the column to annoy her family? Unless, of course, Sean had failed to guess who the blind item was about. “What makes you think the item referred to Paul?”
“Sandra made a few snide remarks about Paul over the last few months,” Miss Flynn said. “I got the impression that his marriage to Melanie wasn’t the rock-solid relationship they project to the world, and Paul and Sandra never got on well. I saw them arguing outside The Movie Theater Café last month after we’d watched a film.”
My ears pricked up. “Did you hear what the argument was about?”
Miss Flynn shook her head. “No. I was too far away. I knew they were arguing from their body language.”
“Thanks for the info.” I blew out a sigh. I had zero desire to go back to the hotel and face Paul and Melanie again, but the news that Sandra had been seen fighting with Paul was worth pursuing. I’d pay them a visit tomorrow.
After I parted company from Miss Flynn, I took the path along the cliff and worked my way up to a fast but controlled pace. I was breathing hard and grateful for the running wrap I wore up over my mouth and nose to protect my nose and lungs from the icy air. Although we were now in February, the cold weather that had hit the island since my arrival showed no sign of giving way to warmer temperatures.
Running along the path, it felt like I was flying. I passed old beehive huts to my left. I’d explored them when I was a kid. I needed to brush up on my island history, but I remembered Noreen telling me they dated from the early Middle Ages. When I got back to the cottage, I’d dig out Noreen’s copy of the island’s history.
My plans for a shower and a peaceful afternoon reading were smashed to smithereens the moment I walked through the cottage door.
Noreen met me in the hallway, her face haggard. Judging by the succulent scents wafting from the kitchen, I knew it wasn’t because our lunch was toast.
“What’s happened?” I demanded. “Has Sergeant O’Shea done something stupid?”
“More than likely, but we can’t blame this one on him.” My aunt sighed. “Jennifer Pearce informed me that she could no longer act as my go-between solicitor while Jacqueline Sweeney is in Cork.”
I blinked. “Why? I thought it was all arranged.”
“So did I. Apparently, Paul and Melanie threatened to transfer the accounts from his hotel and her restaurant to a mainland solicitor if Jennifer didn’t cut contact with me.” My aunt’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “They don’t want their solicitor having anything to do with Sandra’s murderer.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I snapped. “Nesbitt & Son is the only practice on the island. Where else are you supposed to go?”
“Now that Jacqueline Sweeney is representing me, I don’t need Jennifer’s support as much, but it was convenient to have a lawyer on the island in case I had questions.”
“I’m going to have a word with Paul and Melanie,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t bother, love. It’ll only cause trouble
.”
I jutted my jaw. “I’d intended to call over to the hotel tomorrow anyway. I’m going to make it today instead.”
Thirty minutes later, showered but still hungry, I marched into the hotel.
The same receptionist who’d greeted me the day I’d come to talk to Paul and Melanie was seated behind the reception desk. She drew back in alarm when she saw me. “Ms. Doyle, I don’t think—”
“I’d like to speak to Paul,” I said firmly. “And I’m not taking no for an answer. You can tell your boss that unless he wants me telling the entire hotel about his indiscretions at ninety decibels, he’d better get his butt out here and talk to me.”
The woman reddened. “Just a moment.” She pressed a button on her phone, either to call Paul or to contact security. With the mood I was in, either option was fine by me.
Paul appeared a moment later, looking flustered. “Maggie, this is a bad time for—”
“We’ll have coffee in his office,” I told the receptionist. “Make mine black with two sugars. I need something sweet to take away the sour taste of dealing with your boss.” Leaving her open-mouthed, I dragged Paul in the direction of his office. When we were inside, I kicked the door shut. “So. It’s time for you to talk.”
“Maggie—”
“Don’t ‘Maggie’ me. Sit your butt in that chair and start blabbing. I want to know exactly what hold Sandra had over you. And don’t give me any nonsense about her being family. If you did what I think you did, family means little to you.” I stood over him, hands on hips. “But here’s the thing, Paul. Family means a lot to me. You shouldn’t have told Jennifer Pearce to cut contact with Noreen.”
“Surely you can understand that Melanie didn’t want the prime suspect in her mother’s murder represented by our solicitor.”
“I could understand it if Noreen did the crime, but she’s innocent.” I stared him down. “Which is more than I can say for you. Even if you didn’t kill Sandra, I know you had plenty of reasons to want her dead.”
