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SIX

After asking if I could borrow Fiona’s camera to show something to the police, she agreed.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked.

I smiled. “Oh. No. Nothing like that. I just thought since the priest and Sister Sarah were speaking to one another, the detective might like to see it. That way he can ask her about their conversation. I promise, I’ll bring it right back to you.”

“Once you shape the loaf, it goes into the pan,” Nora said as she instructed the class on how to make the bread.

Fiona waved me away.

I wonder where Sister Sarah is?

I headed back to the incident room. Kieran typed, well, hen-pecked, his keyboard as he sat at a long wooden table going through some files.

“I feel like someone who is on the computer as much as you, should have great typing skills.”

“Are you back to insult my typing, or do you have some information for me?” He pointed toward the camera in my hand. “Did you find your sister?”

I nodded. “She’s learning how to make bread with the rest of the guests, except for the nun. You said she hadn’t come down yet, but it’s awful late.”

“And you didn’t want to participate in baking bread?” He ignored my comment about the nun, and laughed after asking the question because he knew my talents were non-existent in the kitchen.

“No. But I was talking to Fiona, who is a birder.”

“I spoke with her,” he said.

“Right. Well, she mentioned that when she went to the pond yesterday, she tried to speak with the priest, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk.”

“Right. She told me the same,” he said as he flipped through his notebook where he kept his notes on interviews.

“Right. But did she tell you she’d been taking pictures at the pond?”

“Yes. Of birds.”

I smiled. “There are a lot of them. But she also caught this.” I showed him the picture on her camera.

“That’s Sister Sarah and the priest,” he said. “We know they were arguing off and on throughout the day. More than one witness has given us that information.” Which proved the priest and nun hadn’t cared who saw them.

Would it be too obvious if the nun was the killer ?

Whatever had been going on with them, they had to be in on it together. And it made sense that she might be the one who killed him. No one else had met him before this weekend, as far as we knew. I kept trying to believe because she was so petite it couldn’t be her, but maybe I was wrong. If she was a trained killer, there was no telling what she might have done.

“I saw them arguing, too. But what I’m curious about is who is the person watching them at the top of the hill?”

“It’s so blurry, I’m not sure we’ll be able to make it out. You’re right, though. Whoever it is seems to be facing them.”

“That means there may be a third party involved here on the estate.” One more potential killer to worry about. “But you can blow the photo up, right? And don’t the police have ways of enhancing pixels? You can clean all this up with one of your machines.”

He laughed. “This isn’t one of your mysteries, but, yes, we can blow it up. It might at least tell us if we’re looking for a man or a woman. As for the pixels, we can send it off to Dublin, but it doesn’t work the way you think. The person is little more than a shadow.”

“I’m having trouble seeing anyone, besides Sister Sarah, having a motive to kill him. She seems almost too obvious.”

“You may be right, which is why we don’t jump to conclusions. First, I need Fiona’s permission to take the photo from her camera. We have this thing called chain of evidence and I have to go by the book.”

I sighed. “Going by the book is boring, but I understand what you’re saying. At the very least, we also need to talk to the nun.”

He nodded. “If we can find her. I have one of my men looking for her now. He knocked on her door, but she was gone. And she wasn’t in the kitchen either, you said?”

“No. But I can help look.”

“I think it’s best if you don’t go out alone. Wait until I can go with you.”

I didn’t need a man to hold my hand. I was perfectly able to take care of myself.

“But first, I need to ask Fiona for that picture,” Kieran said.

“What about the accountant fellow, Maximillian? Have you spoken to him?” I kept meaning to talk to him but the chance hadn’t come up.

“Yes.”

“That’s all I get?”

“Yes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

He followed me back to the kitchen and spoke with the birder.

“Is everything okay?” Lizzie asked worriedly.

“Yes. I saw something in one of Fiona’s pictures I thought Kieran might be interested in and wanted to show him.”

She nodded.

Mr. Poe whined and put a paw on her foot.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked. He seldom whined about anything. Though he wasn’t so good that he didn’t beg for food from time to time.

“At first, I thought he might want some bread, which he is absolutely not getting.” She pointed a finger at him. “But he might need a walk. We’ve been cooped up here most of the morning, and I rushed him earlier so I could get some breakfast before the class.”

I turned to find Kieran had gone.

“I’ll take him out. I’m not doing anything.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” she whispered. “I should come with you.”

“No. You wait for your bread to bake. I’ll be fine, and I’ll stick close to the castle. Besides, you know Mr. Poe will protect me.”

She smiled. “Okay, just be careful. Please. I know you’re trained to kill a man, but I still worry about you.”

She said it like a joke, but she was right. Not long after I’d moved to Manhattan twenty years ago, I’d started taking Krav Maga classes. More to help with my mom’s fears of me living alone in a big city than anything else. But over the years, I’d continued my training and added other martial arts.

The detective in my novels was well-versed in protecting herself, so martial arts had become a part of my real life as well. When I discovered I had a stalker, I’d been grateful for that training.

My stalker had been brave enough to break into my apartment and move things around. At the time, I’d just found out how sick my mother was. I believed my mind was playing tricks on me. In hindsight, I knew that wasn’t true.

I’d hoped that once Lizzie and I moved to Ireland, all of that would stop. But we’d both felt sometimes like someone might be watching us. We’d never caught anyone in the act, though. We’d almost convinced ourselves we were being paranoid.

But I wasn’t so sure.

Mr. Poe barked, bringing my attention back to the present.

After a short jaunt to the pond, I very much wanted to get the lay of the land and check out the hilltop to see if maybe the bystander had left a clue. If he or she smoked, they might have left cigarette butts lying around.

The detective wouldn’t appreciate my snooping, but what Kieran didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And Mr. Poe would be there to protect me.

“Come on, boy, time for walkies,” I said.

He cocked his head, and I swear there was a look of relief on his almost human face.

I’d barely opened the back door out of the kitchen before he was off at a sheer run. He stopped at the first tree to do his business, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Then he yipped as he waited for me.

“I bet you’re glad I showed up when I did.”

He yipped again.

“I don’t suppose you know which way it is to the pond?”

He stared at me.

“I’m taking that as a no.” I pulled the map from my jacket pocket. It was late winter, and I was freezing. Mr. Poe was a water dog, though. He loved the frigid waves and chasing sticks into the ocean. We’d started taking a large towel with us when we walked him down Main Street for that reason. Even if he wasn’t chasing a stick, he’d find an excuse to go in the sea. We couldn’t keep him out of it.

That was one of his many quirks, but he was an exceptionally good boy for the most part. We had no complaints, and even though we’d had him for only a few months, he was one of us.

I stared down at the map. It was an overcast day, but at least the rain was holding off for now. That said, there were dark clouds rolling in from the west.

“We should probably hurry,” I said to Mr. Poe. He barked as if he understood.

The pond was to the east, so we headed that way. It wasn’t long until I found myself on the hilltop looking out over it. If I had the picture right in my head, I wasn’t far off from where the man had been standing when the photo had been taken.

I searched the area. Since the ground had been trod on by animals, probably one of the hundreds of sheep I’d seen the day before, all I found was churned up mud. If there had been evidence of someone watching the priest and nun, it had long ago been washed away by the rain or destroyed by the animals.

Mr. Poe whined again.

“I have your baggies in my pocket,” I said and tried to wave him away. “Take your pick where you want to finish your business. You have plenty of space.”

He grabbed the hem of my jeans and tugged with his teeth.

“What’s wrong with you?” He tugged again. “Fine, I’ll come with you.” It wasn’t like him to be so anxious. Maybe it was the new place. Or, for a dog, perhaps there was such a thing as too much land, and he was confused.

“Little dude, there is no reason to stress. You can go anywhere you want.”

He continued to whine anxiously, and it was then it hit me. That wasn’t his I-have-to-poo-whine. It was something quite different.

“Oh. No.” My eyes went wide. “Okay, what do you need to show me?”

Even though my wellies were waterproof, the closer we came to the pond, the muddier they became.

“Is there any way you could have chosen a less damp place?” I glanced around, concerned I might see a dead body, but there was nothing but mud and water. Maybe I’d been worrying for nothing and had misinterpreted his signals.

Mr. Poe yipped when he reached the edge of the pond.

“Okay. I’m here. Do your thing.”

He ran back to me, and then headed to the pond again.

“Fine.” I moved a little closer. That’s when the habit came into view. In the dark water, I hadn’t been able to see the black fabric until I was much closer.

“What the…” Bile rose in my throat as I raced to the edge of the water. I blew out a breath. The nun was face down and I froze. Then I forced myself to touch her and pulled at her feet until I’d dragged her onto the land. Then I flipped her over and checked for a pulse. I swallowed down the bile that rose again.

“No.” I tried to breathe, but my chest was tight.

It was evident from the bluish tinge of her skin, and the vacant stare, that Sister Sarah was very dead.