by Cindy Kline
“I can help you with all of that. Besides, it will help keep my mind occupied. I’m so afraid someone is going to try to hurt him again.” Her eyes glistened with tears.
Molly wasn’t sure what to do. She really didn’t want to get involved, but something was bothering her. “Imogen, do you know anything about what your father kept in his office safe?”
She shook her head. “I would assume contracts and such, why?”
Molly wasn’t sure how much to share with her. After all, wasn’t the spouse usually the prime suspect? Somehow, she didn’t think Imogen would hurt him. What was it Gran said? Trust her instincts. She decided to do that now.
“When I found Henry, he said something. “Keys, safe, office, file, destroy it.” He gave me his keys, but when I stopped at his office, the safe was empty. I was hoping you had some idea of what he kept in there.”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, my father was very old-fashioned, Molly. He didn’t think women belonged in business, so he discussed very little with me.”
Molly glanced at her hand around the teacup. Her knuckles were white. Molly couldn’t help but wonder why.
“Do you know of anyone who would want to harm him?”
She shook her head again. “I’ve been thinking of almost nothing else since the accident. As with most companies, it’s competitive, but until my father died, Henry was just the chief financial officer, so there wasn’t really the opportunity to make enemies.”
Molly’s head was spinning. “Imogen, excuse me a moment, will you?”
“Of course.”
Molly went to the supply closet and pulled out a notebook. If she was going to do this, she needed to take some notes. She returned to the table and was glad to see Imogen had finished most of the scone.
She sat back down. “Sorry about that, but I thought I should start writing things down if I’m going to help you.”
Imogen put her hand on Molly’s arm. “Thank you so much.”
“How did you and Henry meet?” Molly had heard Henry’s version but was interested to hear Imogen’s.
“Through my brother, Patrick.” She smiled. “Patrick, along with Craig Wilson, who we’d all known since we were children, were best friends. Then they met Henry, and the three of them began hanging out together. I was dating Craig, so I saw a lot of him. Henry was so handsome and charming, and when he looked at me, he made me feel special. I resisted him for the longest time, but I finally gave in.”
“And you fell in love with him,” Molly said as she took notes.
She nodded.
“How did Craig take it?”
“It upset him, at first, but it didn’t take long before he realized we weren’t right for each other. Like I said, we’d known each other since we were children, and both families hoped we’d get married someday. I liked him, I still do, but Henry was the only man for me.”
“Was Henry surprised when your father left the company to him?”
“Yes. After Patrick died in a hit-and-run car accident, everyone assumed he’d leave the company to Craig because he’d started grooming him for the position. Then, about a week before Father died, Henry mentioned how there had been some heated arguments between the two of them, but he didn’t know what about. So, when Father died of a heart attack, and the will was read, everyone was quite shocked to hear the company had been left to Henry.”
“Did Henry discuss work with you very often?”
“He did, actually. It was wonderful.” she smiled. “So different from my father. If he had a tough decision to make, he would discuss it with me. I think it brought us closer together.” She wiped away another tear.
“Did he have any enemies at work?” Molly watched her closely.
“Not that he mentioned. He’s only had the position of president a short time, so I doubt he had time to make any.”
Molly looked at the blank page of the notebook, her stomach sinking. “Okay, give me a list of anyone you think I should speak to that may help us.”
She couldn’t come up with a very long list. Most of their social life was in Dublin. Henry had spent most of his time since the move focusing on the business. Of the three she mentioned, Megan and Craig were the only two names she was familiar with.
Megan Hill—Assistant, mistress.
Craig Wilson—Vice-president, good friend since moved to Ireland thirty-four years ago.
Steve Sampson—Another friend who now lives in Dublin, but Henry kept in touch with him, usually via email or text.
Molly and Imogen exchanged phone numbers. Imogen finished her tea, and Molly saw her out. She glanced out the window to see blue sky, which explained the street full of people and the store full of customers. Anyone who lived here long enough realized how rare a sunny day is, so she took advantage of it. Molly helped customers, restocked books and checked people out all afternoon. At four o’clock, there was a lull, and Ciara went and made more tea. Molly had just placed a new book order using her computer at the counter when the door chimes rang. She looked up with a smile, but it quickly turned to a frown when she saw who it was.
“DI Elliott, what can I do for you today?” The lenses of his glasses had steamed up when he came in from the cold. He took them off and looked around for something to wipe them with. Molly watched as he dug into his pocket, coming out with a tissue. He wiped the lenses and put the thick glasses back on his face. Molly tried not to smile at the white flecks of tissue now spotting his glasses but failed, so she pretended to cough, sticking her face into the crook of her arm.
“I’d like you to explain to me how your fingerprints came to be on the murder weapon.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “What murder weapon?”
Before he could answer, Constable Mills, who Molly met during her previous interaction with the Dooley Police Department, came in the door, his Garda cap on crooked, but a smile on his face.
“Good afternoon, Miss Molly.” He said as he took off his hat and placed it between his arm and body. “Beautiful day out there, isn’t it?”
This time, Molly’s smile was genuine. “Constable Mills. It’s so good to see you. How have you been?”
“Great. Sorry to hear you found another body. You sure have the knack, don’t you?”
“Constable Mills!” DI Elliott turned his weasel-like eyes onto the tall, gangly officer. “If you don’t mind, I am trying to interview the suspect.”
“Suspect? DI Elliott, Miss Molly wouldn’t hurt anyone. She’s a real gracious lady. Besides, if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t ‘ave figured out who killed Ms. Denton last summer.”
Before DI Elliott could respond, Molly smiled again at the constable. “Why, thank you, constable, but I’m sure you would have all figured it out—eventually.”
“Constable! Please be quiet.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Mrs. McGuire. I have Sergeant Murphy working on getting a search warrant for your cottage as we speak. I’m sure we’ll turn up evidence that you’re the one who poisoned Henry Pierce.”
Ciara came out just then with two cups of tea on a tray. She sat the tray on the counter, looking at the two officers of the law.
“Ciara, this is DI Elliott, and I’m not sure if you’ve ever met Constable Mills from the Garda.” She looked between DI Elliott and Ciara. “The DI was just telling me how he’s trying to get a search warrant for Rose Cottage.”
“What on earth for?” Ciara asked. “What a waste of time. Neither Molly nor myself ever met Mr. Pierce before Monday night. What possible reason could she have to want to hurt him?” Then, as if just remembering her manners, asked, “Would either of you like a cup of tea?”
Constable Mills said, “Oh, that would be—”
“Nothing for either of us, thank you. And what might your name be?” He pulled out his notebook.
“Ciara Quinn. I’m Molly’s sister-in-law and part-time help. And I’ll tell you right now, Molly had nothing to do with it.”
Molly and Ciara were beh
ind the counter, and so she grabbed Ciara’s hand, then gave her a look she hoped got the point across of “shut up.”
“Well, now that we have your guarantee, Mrs. Quinn, I guess there’s no need for further questions.” He gave her a dirty look and then turned to me.
“Now, you were about to explain your fingerprints on the murder weapon.”
Molly stared at him. “Yes, and I was about to tell you I touched absolutely nothing at the scene where I found him.”
“What are you talking about? I’m talking about the medicine bottle.”
Molly had to think for a second. “The medicine bottle? That’s how he was poisoned?”
“Aye, the pills inside the bottle were covered with monkshood oil, very toxic. As far as I’m aware, you didn’t get sick, so explain how your fingerprints were on the bottle.”
“My fingerprints were on the bottle because I’m the one who gave him his medicine.”
“Yes, but can you explain why ONLY your fingerprints were on the bottle?” He had a smirk on his face Molly wanted to slap off but thought better of it. How could someone who was a DI be this inept, or was it a trick? What was he looking for her to say?
“Gee, detective inspector, can you figure out why only my fingerprints were on the bottle?” Molly glanced at Constable Mills, who was trying not to smirk.
“Aye, I can. Because you’re the one who poisoned the pills!”
Ciara jumped in, laughing. “Sure. She went upstairs, with the monkshood in her pocket, of course, and wiped all of the prints off the bottle. Then she rolled them all in the poison, with no gloves on, so that her prints would be the only ones on the bottle. Then she went downstairs and gave them to him. And…managed not to get sick herself.” She nodded, still smiling. “That sounds very plausible.”
DI Elliott’s face was getting very red, and Molly could have sworn there was steam coming off his almost bald head.
“Mrs. McGuire, I am sure you had something to do with this, and I will prove it.” He put his wool cap back on his head, turned around and went out the door.
Constable Mills was grinning, shaking his head. He leaned into the two women. “Officer Murphy wanted me to tell you he’s doing everything possible to delay the search warrant.”
Molly laid her hand on his arm. “Thank him for me. And thank you for telling me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” He put his cap on and followed DI Elliott out the door.
Molly took a sip of her now cold tea and then set it back down on the tray.
“If this doesn’t convince you to look into this, nothing will,” Ciara said as she took the tray to the back room.
Molly and Ciara closed the store at five, and Molly made her way back to Rose Cottage. Gran had left for her bingo night at the town hall, so she let Luna out of her crate and then outside. Molly stood at the sliding glass door and looked out at the dark landscape. The garden had gone dormant for the winter, so she could actually see out past the fence. Rose Cottage was built on a cliff, but Molly could see the shadow of the dark Atlantic Ocean beyond. There was a crescent moon tonight, shining bright, but she could still see some stars. Or were those planets? She never could tell the difference.
Luna came back in. Molly fed her and then tried to get hold of Liam, but no answer, so she left a message to please call her back. She made dinner and had just set down to watch television when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Liam, she ran to the door and flung it open, a sudden coldness going through her body.
Chapter Thirteen
“Keith! What are you doing here?”
“Hey babe, surprise!” He walked in without an invitation and dropped his suitcase on the floor. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m starving. I didn’t realize how far out in the boondocks you were. Man, how can you stand to live here?”
The tall blond walked into her kitchen, unzipping his parka as he went. Molly realized the door was still open, so she closed it with a bang, making Luna bark. She followed Keith into the kitchen, growling. By the time Molly followed Luna, Keith was currently going through her refrigerator, his coat now on the back of a chair.
He stood and pointed to Luna. “What is that?”
Molly picked her up and held her close. “This is Luna, my dog. What are you doing here?”
“You know I’m allergic to dogs, so go put it somewhere.”
Molly felt her face redden, and she clenched her fists. “How dare you! Who do you think you are? You come in here—to MY house, demanding I get rid of my dog? I don’t think so. The dog stays. You, however, do not. So, I repeat, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take you home. What do you think?” He looked into the refrigerator again and pulled out a bottle of beer. He went to twist the top, and before she could say anything, started yelling.
“Damn!” He looked at his scraped hand and then at the bottle like it had deliberately hurt him. She went to one of the cupboard drawers and pulled out a bottle opener. She took the bottle from him, opened it and handed it back to him.
“I am home, Keith. You ruined ours, remember?”
“Honey, you can’t still be mad about that? Besides, when I heard you got shot, it made me realize how much I love you, so I rushed right over here.”
Molly rolled her eyes, her head beginning to ache on the left side. She put her hands to her head and massaged her temples. “That was six months ago, Keith.”
“Well, yes, but I had some things to take care of first. Besides, you can’t spend Christmas alone.”
“I’m hardly alone. My entire family is here. Did you bring the divorce papers?”
“Of course not. I asked my lawyer to stall until I could bring you to your senses.”
“You did what?” A large drum was now playing in her head. She closed her eyes, willing the pain away. It didn’t work. Too bad she couldn’t will Keith away. “You call them first thing in the morning and get it started again.”
Just then, the doorbell rang, and Molly headed for the door. She pulled it open and smiled. “Liam!” She let out an overwhelming sigh of relief and fell into his arms. He was just leaning down to kiss her when there was an interruption.
“Who is it, babe?” Keith’s voice shouted from the kitchen.
His eyebrows raised, and he whispered, “Babe?” and his smile disappeared.
Molly grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind him. She whispered to him, “You’re timing is spot on. Please help me get rid of him.”
She practically dragged him into the kitchen, where Keith had just finished making himself a sandwich. He walked toward the breakfast nook and plopped himself down on a stool. He then lifted his beer, “Slainte.”
“Liam, this is Keith, who showed up on my doorstep a few minutes ago.”
Keith was busy eating his sandwich, really not paying much attention. Then the doorbell rang again.
“Now, who?” Molly turned around to go to the door when Liam tried to stop her.
“Molly, wait—”
She answered the door to find DI Elliott, Callum and Constable Mills standing at her door. DI Elliott didn’t wait for an invitation, just walked in, flapping a tri-folded piece of paper at her as he did so.
“What is this?” Molly’s eyes moved from the paper to DI Elliott as he stood in the middle of her living room, his hands behind his back, rolling back and forth on his heels.
Callum and Constable Mills entered as well, and Molly shut the door. She looked at Callum, who mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
Rose Cottage was large at Irish cottages go, but with this many people, it felt tiny. Other than Keith in the kitchen, she had a clear view of the four men. Luna was sitting in her bed, her head going from one person to the next, like she was deciding who was friend and who was foe. Molly was wondering the same thing.
DI Elliott sneered at Liam, “DI Fitzgerald, what, may I ask, are you doing here?”
Liam stood there, his arms crossed in front of him, his feet set apart. “Jus
t came to visit my girlfriend, Elliott. Is that a crime?”
Keith came alive then and burst out of the kitchen. “Girlfriend? Are you dating my wife?”
Molly’s head was now spinning as everyone started talking at the same time.
“Soon-to-be ex-wife,” said Liam, looking at Keith.
“Who are you?” asked DI Elliott to Keith.
“McGuire? What on earth are you doing here?” asked Callum.
“Miss Molly, may I use your toilet?” asked Constable Mills to Molly.
Molly pointed the constable in the bathroom’s direction and then yelled, “Quiet.”
Everyone stopped and looked at her. She opened up the search warrant and then handed it to Liam, but looked at DI Elliott. “Search all you want, but you will not find anything.”
She then looked at Keith. “Keith, you need to leave. Where are you staying?”
He shrugged. “I figured I’d stay here.”
Molly, Liam, and Callum all said, “No!” at the same time. Molly went to the table, picked up her mobile and dialed Shenanigan’s.
“Hiya, Scott. It’s Molly. Is Aiden or Dillon there, please?”
“Aiden, are any of the room accommodations completed enough to rent one out for a couple of days?”
“To Keith.”
“Yes, that Keith.”
“I don’t know.”
“Thank you.” She disconnected the call.
“Keith, you passed Shenanigan’s Pub on your way here. That’s where you’re staying.”
Constable Mills came back into the room. “I heard the pub was renovating the upstairs to rent out to tourists. That’s pretty cool.”
“Yes, they’re not scheduled to be finished until next spring, but they have one that will work.” she looked at Keith. “No maid service, but you’ll survive for the little time you’ll be here.”
Liam said, “Keith, I’ll see you out.”
“But, Molly, we need to talk about this. You still love me; I know you do,” he said over his shoulder as Liam walked him to the door and handed him his suitcase.