Page 16

SIXTEEN

I followed Kieran to the incident room. He went to unlock the door, but it was already hanging slightly ajar. He glanced back at me.

“What?”

“I left it locked. That means someone was in here and unlocked the door.”

“Does that mean they had a key? It would have to be the O’Sullivans or the staff, right?”

“Possibly,” he said. “They leave the keys hanging in the mudroom, so it isn’t like someone else couldn’t have picked them up.”

“Oh,” I said. “Maybe they left some fingerprints behind when they messed with the door,” I said.

He nodded. “Sheila, I need forensics,” he said over his walkie-talkie.

“Does it look like they took anything or rifled through something?”

“Let me look around,” he said.

“Right.” I glanced around the room. “The only box that is open is the one that had Sarah’s things in it. Check to see if the diamond necklace and passport are still there.”

He put on his gloves and rifled through the box. “The passport is here, but the necklace is gone. Are you sure you put it back?”

“Yes, of course I did. You saw me do it.” I’d spent enough time with him to understand that he wasn’t implying I took it. Only that I might have put it back in the wrong box. As much as he liked to give me a hard time, we trusted one another.

“What if they also hit up the study? If you give me the keys, I can go check. Or now might be a good time to check the passages in the walls. The killer might still be here.”

“No. You aren’t going anywhere alone. We’ll go together.”

“I’m here, sir,” one of his men said, appearing in the doorway.

“Dust for fingerprints everywhere,” Kieran said. “And check the items in the boxes against the chain of evidence log. I want to make sure nothing else was taken.”

“On it, sir.”

“And guard the door when you have finished.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come on,” he said to me. I had to half jog to keep up with his long strides down the hallway. When we reached the study, he pulled out a ring of keys. Once we were inside, we stood in the middle of the room.

“Do you see anything out of sorts?”

I turned in a circle. Everything appeared the same. Except for the shelf directly in front of us. I started to reach for a book that had been put in upside down.

He gently pulled my arm back. “Don’t touch. There may be prints.” He put on his gloves and opened the book. He was kind enough to show it to me as he turned the pages.

Before the police had arrived the other night, my sister and I had scoped out the study. This whole row of journals had contained nothing but lists of household items dated by year. This one was for 1875.

“It’s another log of belongings,” I said.

“Why would someone be interested in these old lists?” Kieran asked.

“For the treasure hunt. I know it might sound silly, but I think there is more to all of this than anyone could have imagined. Someone must have learned that there are items worth a great deal here. We talked about that before. But I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

“So, you think that there is buried treasure in the walls or something?”

“Well, we know about the secret passageways.”

“Yes, and the walls are all stone. It would be impossible to hide something inside them.”

That answered one of my bigger questions about the trail that went behind the study walls. “So do we think that the passageways are just to get secretly from one place to another?”

He nodded.

I went down the row of books to see if anything else was missing. “There aren’t any missing, but this is the second time we’ve seen that these books are of interest. Maybe someone’s slowly trying to go through them without drawing attention.”

“Except they have committed two murders.”

“There is that. And you and the team haven’t found any sort of connection between the staff or guests?”

“No. And we’ve done a thorough search. Though, without the internet, Sheila has been doing the majority of it on her own back at the station. Now, we don’t even have that since she can’t get across the river until the storm is done.”

“What’s going on with Sally?”

He checked his phone. “We’re still waiting for the search warrant.”

“Is it really not enough that people here saw her?” Rob and Scott were absolutely trustworthy. The pair of them had become solid friends to me and my sister. We considered them, and Brenna, family. They were one of the main reasons living in Shamrock Cove was so much fun for us.

“Yes. But I’ll need evidence. And since the rain has returned, no one is going anywhere.”

I shivered. “It’s weird that we’re stuck with a killer.”

“It isn’t one of your novels, though. I need you to remember that. We are dealing with real deaths, and it isn’t safe.”

“I know. I promise to be careful. But I need to do that thing where I talk everything out because my brain is trying to tell me something, and I can’t quite grasp it.”

He nodded. “I feel like we have done nothing but discuss it.”

I smiled.

“Okay,” I said. “What do we know so far? The murderer had some kind of beef with Carl and Sarah. Carl was a thief, and Sarah had been his getaway driver. We assume they were interested in relieving the poor O’Sullivans of some of their art or antiquities, or finding the treasure, since Carl was hunting through historical documents. And whatever it is, it’s enough money that the killer was willing to murder his partners for it.

“To bring them in, the killer had knowledge of what they were looking for. Which means—it’s someone here on the estate. I’m sure of it.”

That idea I couldn’t quite reach came to the forefront of my brain.

“It would have to be someone knowledgeable like the accountant or the gardener. Both of them seem to know about the history of the place. My bet would be Maximillian since we know he has a criminal past. And I hate to say it, but I’m adding the O’Sullivans back in because of the access. Though I don’t understand the motive.”

“That makes sense,” Kieran said. “But you know what I’m going to say next.”

“You need evidence not supposition. Maybe, he has one of the journals in his room or something. Can’t you do a search?”

“Not without probable cause and a search warrant, which?—”

“You have to get from the judge.”

“Right.”

“Probable cause is you suspect him of murder.”

Kieran sighed. “As much as I might agree with you, there are no fingerprints that tie him to any of the crimes. That said, he is a person of interest. We will keep an eye on him.

“Why do you suspect the gardener?” He flipped through his notebook that he always carried with him. “Jim Gilley.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know really. He knows about the place. He’s only worked here for five years but he spoke as if he’d lived here all of his life. Could be that he’s just a big history buff, but I found it odd.”

“That he was good at his job?” he joked.

“You know what I mean.”

As much as he might not like it, I needed to talk with everyone in the house. Even though the place was huge, someone had to have seen something. And maybe the staff didn’t feel comfortable talking to the police, but they might be more relaxed talking to me, or better yet, my sister. She and Rob were so affable, and people told them all kinds of things. Lizzie would come home with complete biographies of some of her customers at the bookshop. People opened up to her about their lives and she seldom asked them to.

I wasn’t going to learn any more from hanging out with the detective inspector. Well, not at the moment, anyway.

My sister wouldn’t like it, but we needed to speak to the staff.

“I’m sure lunch was upsetting for Lizzie. I feel like I should go check on her,” I said.

He cocked his head, and stared at me. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing,” I said. “My brain is full, and I need time to sort things out. Like you said, you need to find the evidence that links people to the crimes. Maybe they are even working together. Who knows?

“And I want to check on my sister.”

“Fine. But be careful and don’t question anyone. I don’t want you tipping off our killer or putting yourself in danger. Stay away from the suspects we’ve been discussing.”

“Same song, different day.”

“I mean it, Mercy. This is serious.”

“I’m aware,” I said. My writer’s brain was at work, though. The priest had been searching for answers. It had to be something to do with the items in this house. More specifically, with treasures. But had he been after a painting or what?

All of the facts floated around in my brain, much like what happened when I was trying to organize my thoughts to write my books. I only hoped they would settle soon and I could figure out the next steps.

At least I had a few solid suspects, even if there was absolutely no proof.

“Where is the next class?” Kieran asked. “I’ll walk you to it. I don’t want any of the guests going anywhere alone in the castle. I know I’ve said that before, but I want everyone to understand.”

I pulled the schedule out of my pants pocket and unfolded it. “It’s the clootie dumpling class.”

“My gran makes them best. I’ll take you to the kitchen.”

The dumpling-making took some time. I didn’t register half of what was being said. I was anxious to talk to some of the others, and the staff. But I had to wait for my sister, who was into the proper way to make the dumplings.

As I have said many times before, the only thing I should be doing in a kitchen is eating. Though, from the ingredients, I didn’t think they would be that nice.

They weren’t really dumplings at all. The finished result reminded me of bread pudding and was quite tasty.

After the class, Nora excused herself. “I need to check on my Gordon. Please feel free to eat as many of the dumplings as you like.”

Most of the guests who attended stayed in the kitchen. We stood around a large marble island.

Brenna and Fiona chatted. Maybe it was my suspicious mind, but I wondered about the birder. She had been at the pond with the priest. Could she be the missing piece of the puzzle?

Motive slapped me across the head. Why? And was she strong enough to push that letter opener through some ribs and into the heart? I didn’t think so.

“You seem to be friendly with the police,” the accountant said to me. “What do you think is going on? My clients aren’t telling me anything. The household staff have said that the priest and the nun were murdered. Is that true?”

You should know since you killed them . I didn’t say that out loud, but I was thinking it. I’d warned Kieran he couldn’t keep things under wraps forever.

Maximillian sounded genuinely curious, but there was something shifty about him. “How long have you known the O’Sullivans?” I asked, changing the topic.

He blinked and then rubbed his chin. “My father was their advisor before me. So, I guess, most of my life. You’ve been hanging out with the detective inspector, what can you tell us?”

“She sometimes works as a consultant with the police,” my sister said proudly. “But she’s not allowed to talk about it.”

“I think whoever is doing this has ties to the estate in some way,” I said.

“You aren’t blaming my clients for anything untoward, are you?” He was abrupt and his tone was rude.

And who said untoward anymore?

“Of course she isn’t,” Lolly said in my defense. “My grandson is the detective inspector, and I can assure you he has everything in hand. There’s no need to worry.”

“But they should be telling us something,” Sally interjected. “I can’t believe someone has been murdered and they won’t tell us anything. They should have let us leave earlier. And now we’re stuck because of another storm.

“What if it’s like some Agatha Christie novel and we’re being knocked off one by one?”

Her husband patted her shoulder. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you.”

“Well, it’s not my imagination that something is wonky. And no disrespect to your grandson, Lolly, but people have died here, and I find the whole situation highly suspicious. I don’t feel like we’re safe. Maybe we should hire a helicopter since we can’t pass over the river.”

“They can’t fly in weather like this,” her husband said. “I told you that earlier. Do you see the trees bending outside?”

Oh.

The walls were so thick that they blocked most of the sound from outside. But the winds coming off the sea were blustery.

“You seem in a hurry to leave,” I said. “Are you sure it isn’t something else bothering you?”

Rob and Scott hid their chuckles behind their hands. My sister poked me in the side.

“What do you mean by that?” Sally asked.

I’d stepped into that. “Nothing,” I said. I don’t think anyone believed me. I stopped myself from putting my foot in my mouth, but I didn’t like the idea that she played the innocent when we knew she was stealing from the O’Sullivans. And, yes, I realized she had a psychological problem she couldn’t control, but it was her attitude that upset me.

“Maximillian, since you’ve known the family longer than any of us, do you think someone is trying to rip them off in some way?” I stared pointedly at Sally. I held her gaze for a bit, and then she stared down at the floor.

“I do not know why,” he said. “Most of the art and antiquities are fake. We’re in the middle of nowhere. It isn’t like someone can just walk out the door with a fake painting.”

The way he said it made me believe he’d thought about doing that more than once. There was something about the way he said “fake” that made me suspicious. This guy was up to something, but what? And would he have killed for it?

Then it was like a gong going off in my brain. What if the evidence was in someone’s car? The police had thoroughly searched the house and behind the walls. Except for some footprints, at least from what I read in the evidence room, they hadn’t found anything out of sorts. But I wasn’t sure they’d searched the cars yet.

“When did the family decide to make the estate a money-making enterprise?” I asked the accountant, turning attention away from my foot-in-mouth-disease and trying to cover my blunder with Sally.

“Oh, this is something they’ve been working on for more than a decade. The whiskey has never been out of production. As that business picked up under Gordon’s management, they started investing in the castle. If you’re wondering if they are wealthy, they are not. They put everything they have into preserving this place.

“I tried to tell them it was a bad investment. There is always something going wrong, from the plumbing to the electrics. Since they married decades ago, Nora had it in her mind to open the house to the public. It may be the only thing that saves them. Except now someone has died, which is a disaster for publicity. They’ll never make a go of it now.”

“Is that true?” Rob asked.

“What do you mean?” Maximillian asked.

“I don’t know, we live in a world that is obsessed with murder and true crime.”

Sally shivered. “Every time someone says murder I want to hide under the covers,” she said.

“What I mean is, there are so many people who love ghost stories that the possibility of being in danger will probably have a big appeal. I mean, it would for me. I love taking haunted ghost tours and such. Or like how the O’Sullivans say their family is cursed. That sort of thing appeals to a lot of visitors. Some people are into history and some like a good scare.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Maximillian said. “You may be on to something there. There may be a way to spin this weekend that could help them out. Not that they listen to me.” He said that last bit under his breath.

It hit me that maybe what I’d been seeing in him was more a lack of confidence. He was trying too hard, and he didn’t have his clients’ respect.

From all of my research, I understood money was often a motive for murder.

But was his tie to the victims enough for him to kill out of revenge?