Page 7

SEVEN

Kieran stood at the edge of the pond, shaking his head. Since my phone had no signal, I’d run back to the castle to find him. He’d tried to make me stay behind, but I wasn’t having it.

“I distinctly remember telling you not to go anywhere alone. What if the killer were still nearby? You could have been hurt.”

After gathering evidence, his team was busy bagging the body to take to the coroner.

“First of all, I wasn’t alone. Mr. Poe was with me. I was just following him,” I said. “I thought he was looking for a spot to do his business. How was I supposed to know he’d found another dead body?”

I shivered. I’d had to wade in almost to the top of my wellies, and water had sloshed inside as I tried to pull the nun from the pond. I was shaking from head to toe, as he put a warm blanket around my shoulders.

A hot bath or shower was definitely in my future.

“And you found her in the water face down?” he asked.

“Yes. Was I supposed to leave her in there? What if she were still alive, or I could have saved her?”

“It’s fine. I just need to know for my report. From the looks of things, she’d been dead for several hours. Difficult to know, given the temperature of the water.”

Mr. Poe yipped again as if he agreed.

He glanced down at our dog. “I may have to hire you for the force if you keep finding dead bodies.”

Mr. Poe yapped like he thought that was a great idea.

I rolled my eyes.

Kieran shook his head but then bent down to pet our very wet dog. “You’re a good boy,” he said. As always, Mr. Poe soaked up the love.

The detective stood, and then opened his notebook. “Okay, take me through exactly what happened.”

I told him about Mr. Poe. “I’m sorry I messed with your crime scene, but I had to make sure she was dead before going to get help.”

“I would have done the same. The pathologist said on the phone that the pond has likely washed any DNA evidence off, but we can be hopeful. And we have yours on file so we will be able to write off any of the trace you left on the body.”

“I feel bad.”

“Well, two people have died, I think that is a normal emotional response.”

“Yes, but I meant about suspecting her of murdering Father Brennen or Carl Doyle or whoever he was.”

Kieran’s head snapped around. “How did you know his real name?”

I swallowed hard. Well, poo. “Before you arrived, I might have glanced through his pockets. Um, to make sure, you know, that he wasn’t hiding something.” I’d stuck my foot in that one.

“Mercy. You cannot tamper with evidence at a crime scene. How am I supposed to explain your fingerprints?”

“I used a tissue.” I gave him my most charming smile.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. I swear he learned the rolling eyes from me.

“I know. I know. But I wasn’t sure when you guys might be able to get there. And I wondered if maybe I might find something that would lead to who murdered him. Like a note. Or maybe he’d stolen something. I didn’t know, so I did a preliminary search.”

The words sounded lame even to me. The truth was, I was nosy and often stuck my nose into places that it didn’t belong. Notably, Kieran’s crime scenes. “Have I mentioned, I’m sorry. I’d say I will never do it again, but you’ve met me. I tend to be impulsively curious when things like this happen.”

“You mean murders that put your life in danger?”

I cleared my throat but didn’t say anything.

“You are a crime writer, and a darn good one. But you need to leave the investigating and policing to me.”

“I do try to do that,” I said. “But, like I said, you’ve met me. I have a natural curiosity and?—”

“And you can’t help yourself, but it’s dangerous.”

I sighed. “I hear you.” I’d nearly been killed more than once when a murderer had me in their sights. But I’d also helped to solve those cases.

To keep him from yelling at me, I decided to change the subject. “You’re going to have a tough time keeping people here with two murders on the property.”

“Which is why you won’t be saying anything to anyone,” he said. “Right now, we’re the only ones who know about the nun. The O’Sullivans are aware, and you will say the same thing I told them, which is nothing. ‘I don’t know’ is the only answer I want you to give.”

“Okay. I mean, you’re here, so they are going to suspect something. Two of the guests will be missing from the various events. I’m not the only one who might be curious about that.”

“Then you give the same answer. They are indisposed. I mean it. No questioning my suspects. Got it?”

“Yes. But there have been two murders. That means there is a third suspect, right?”

“How do you know the nun was murdered?” Kieran demanded. “She could have drowned herself.”

This time I was the one who was eye-rolling. “In three feet of water? There was petechial hemorrhaging,” I said. I had glanced at her neck and seen brown and purple spots on the skin. “She was strangled and left face down in the water. That’s odd, right? That the killer has used two different methods? That isn’t usually the case.

“And just like the letter opener, strangling takes tremendous strength. She wasn’t very large, but still, it isn’t easy to crush someone’s throat like that. We’re looking for a fair-sized man, I’d say.”

My mind was already rolling with possible suspects. Mostly of the male variety. I shivered again, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Whoever had done this was knocking people off, and we were stuck on the property with them.

“No one has left, right?”

“The bridge still isn’t passable. The only way off the estate is in one of our boats.”

I chewed on my lip. “That means the killer is still here.”

Kieran sighed. “They’re about to serve lunch. Go back to the house and take Mr. Poe with you. You need to warm up before you catch your death.”

Mr. Poe yipped as if he were happy to do just that. Even though he liked the frigid ocean waters, he also appreciated being warm and well-fed. We had that in common.

“I guess we aren’t wanted,” I said, as I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Come on, boy.”

He followed me back to the house. Since my wellies were covered in mud, I left them in the passage that led outside from the kitchen. I used one of the towels left out for guests to dry off Mr. Poe. Then I put it in the laundry bin provided.

Lizzie was in the kitchen wrapping up a loaf of bread in some cloth.

“Can you give me a slice?” I asked. “I’m starving.”

Without missing a beat, she gave me a piece. Then she went to the fridge and pulled out some butter. I slathered it on. I had a fondness for Irish bread, and it was even better just out of the oven.

“Why were you gone for so long and why is Mr. Poe so damp? I thought the rain had paused.”

“Mr. Poe ventured a bit too close to the pond.”

Her eyes went wide. “Is he okay?” She knelt and scooped him up off the ground. He snuggled into her.

Then she glanced up at me with a worried look. “What really happened? Why is he so wet? Why is your face so white? You’ve had a shock.” She glanced from me to him as if I’d done something to him.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “I need to go take a quick bath and find my warmer socks. My feet are freezing. Is it almost time for lunch?”

“In a half-hour,” she said. Then she cocked her head. Not unlike what Mr. Poe did when he had a question. “You aren’t telling me something.”

Several people came in at once for which I was grateful.

“Oh, the loaves are done,” Nora said.

“I was wrapping mine up,” Lizzie said. “I took them out of the oven like you said.”

“Aren’t you a dear,” Nora said. “Well, lunch is ready in thirty, if you want to freshen up. I’ll wrap these up for the rest of you. I’m sure you’re famished.”

I was. All that had been left in the basket in Kieran’s makeshift office had been bran muffins. It was the only kind I didn’t like. So, I’d missed breakfast. Like Mr. Poe, I wasn’t one for missing meals.

“I’ll meet you in the dining room,” I said. “I need to change and find my other socks. Save me a place at the table.”

I raced off before my sister could give me another questioning look. Being twins made it close to impossible to hide things from her.

Lunch was a cottage pie, with buttery mashed potatoes on top. The meat pie was one of my favorite dishes. For dessert Nora’s staff brought out Irish cream bundt cake, which I’d never had before. Lizzie asked her for the recipe, for which I was grateful. It was some of the best cake I’d ever eaten.

Every time I asked the other guests what they’d been doing earlier in the morning, my sister gave me a suspicious look.

I needed to stop. If she suspected something was up, so would the others. But everyone had been in the classes that morning. Though, I had no idea when Sister Sarah had died. It could have happened the night before.

Once again, we were back to having a castle full of suspects.

“I’ve never been on a vacation where I feel like I’ve learned so much and enjoyed it at the same time,” Brenna said. While Rob and Scott knew what had happened to the priest, I’d begged them not to say anything to the rest of our crew. Well, Brenna and Lolly.

“I feel the same way,” Rob said. “I love learning new recipes.”

“I too am glad we did this,” Lolly said. “This will be such a fun listing on our Welcome to Shamrock Cove booklet.”

“And it will be a fun place for some of our bigger events,” Scott added.

“Wait, so you are all neighbors?” Fiona asked. “I missed that.”

“We all live on the court,” Lolly said. “A small group of homes in the bailey of yet another castle.”

“How fun,” she said. Then she peppered us with questions. I glanced at Lizzie, who frowned.

Why was Fiona so interested in us? And was there any chance she could have killed the priest and nun? But why?

After lunch, my sister dragged me to an Irish lace-making class. I’m as good a crafter as I am a cook, which means I’m clumsy and pretty bad at making things. But I loved learning about the history of the lace. Like many times through the ages, crafting was how women came to the forefront to help save their families and their nations. Though this contribution was often lost when history was recorded.

“During the potato blight in 1845, women were encouraged to make Irish lace crochet to sell locally and abroad,” said Nora. “The income helped to save many families and was even promoted by Irish aristocrats to help those in need. Lady Arabella Denny used her social and political connections to help create the industry that we still know today.”

The crochet hook felt wobbly in my hand, and I kept pulling the linen thread too tight. Part of it was my inability to do anything remotely crafty, but my mind was also on the deaths of the nun and the priest.

I’d managed to avoid any questions at lunch by stuffing food in my mouth. Though, once in a while, I’d glance up and eye people suspiciously.

No one paid attention to me, as everyone was busy talking about the various classes available throughout the day. The next one was at the distillery where there would be another tasting of different types of whiskey than we’d had the day before.

“Have you seen Sister Sarah today?” Fiona asked. “I’m surprised she’s not here for the class. Is she ill? Can you imagine paying all that money for a visit here and having to stay in your room? It’s such a waste. I wondered if we should send up some soup or something.”

I’m sure my eyes went wide, but I tried to keep a mask of confusion on my face. “I’m certain they’d ask for whatever they need,” I said. Then I dropped the silver hook on the floor.

“Do you think anything is wrong? Did they commit a crime? The police won’t say what happened, but I’m guessing, since they are still here asking questions, that it was foul play. It’s kind of creepy thinking people of the cloth are up to no good.”

“That sounds like a plot from one of my books,” I said finally. “You have quite the imagination. Did you know either of them before they arrived at the castle?”

This time Fiona’s eyes went wide. “Do you have any idea what is going on?”

I forced a smile. “Uh. No. The police aren’t exactly forthcoming.” I didn’t like lying. Well, I did it for a living when it came to my novels, but I wasn’t usually very good at it in the real world. “I was just curious if you knew either one of them. They seemed a bit grouchy for clergy.”

She pursed her lips. “I went to a Catholic school in Dublin, I’d say they were normal in that regard.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “The nuns were always very strict, and Father Peter believed in following the rules and the Bible to the letter. After all that, I went a bit crazy when I went to university.”

I smiled. “You seem…” I wasn’t sure what I was about to say.

“Too nerdy to be wild?” She laughed.

“I would never say that.”

She shrugged. “It’s true about the nerdiness. But it started when I was studying art history. I had a botanical and animal drawing class. We spent a ton of time outdoors, which was where I discovered my love of birds. I found I liked being out in nature and photographing and drawing wildlife much more than the clubs. But I’d done my fair share of partying on nights and weekends. I burned myself out.

“I know you’re a writer. I’ve read some of your books. But what does your sister do?”

“She owns a bookstore in Shamrock Cove, and she still has her lavender business in Texas. Someone else is running that for her now.”

“Oh, I love a good bookstore. I’ll have to come check it out.”

“What brought you to the castle on this particular weekend?” I asked.

Something passed over her face, and then just as quickly, it was gone. “I think I said before that I’d heard about the birds here. I’ve already logged several in my book.”

As friendly as she had been, she’d turned suspicious when I asked why she was here.

“You have to forgive her if you told her something and she forgot,” Lizzie whispered to Fiona. “When she’s working on ideas in her head, she tends to forget things.”

“That’s true,” I agreed.

“I could barely get through writing my papers and exams for school, I can’t imagine writing an entire book.”

“Me either, and she’s my twin,” Lizzie said. “I’m lucky if I can devise an email without typos. I overheard you went to school in Dublin. Is that where you live?”

Fiona nodded. “I’m the same, and yes. I’m a curator for a museum there.”

“Oh, that sounds glamorous,” Lizzie said.

The other woman shrugged. “It can be. Mostly, it’s a lot of work and searching through archives for the provenance of various pieces.”

“This place must be some kind of gold mine for historical artifacts,” I said.

Once again, she flinched and quickly recovered.

What was that about? Was she here for more than birds? In reading the brochures for the castle, I’d read that centuries-old art and antiquities were present. “This place must be full of great pieces.”

Fiona nodded. “I’m not certain they know how precious some items in their collection are. If they did, they’d have much better security.”

“Oh?” I asked.

She nodded. “I always keep an eye out to see if these old places have art from John James Audubon.”

I’d learned about art when I’d been in college, but I was no expert. Most of what I’d retained came from writing one of my earlier books which had been about stolen art.

“Oh? I knew about the books with all the pictures. I didn’t know he also painted.”

“Yes. Though I haven’t seen any here, yet. I wish I could draw. I’m hoping to take classes,” Fiona said.

“Let’s take a look at your progress. Hold up your designs,” Nora said.

My sister’s and Fiona’s looked like works of linen art. Even our neighbors had turned out some beautiful pieces.

Me, not so much.

Mine was just a bunched-up piece of knots. It in no way looked like the beautiful lace we’d been tasked to make.

“Lace-making takes a deft and gentle hand, and I hope you all have an appreciation for the women who helped save their families,” Nora said, smiling down at me like I was a sad orphan girl with no talents.

I could write books. That was about it.

“The owners of Inishmore helped many of those living on the estate and in the village of Shamrock Cove by helping to set up trade routes for the lace and whiskey. It is one of the prouder moments of the family’s history.

“Now, there is a break before the next class at the distillery. We hope to see you all there.”

“Do either of you know what happened to Father Brennen?” Mrs. Airendale, the wife of the American businessman, asked. “The police wouldn’t say anything other than he’s missing. Did he die? Why won’t anyone say anything?”

“I’m sure everything is fine,” I lied. I wouldn’t have Kieran blaming me for letting the word out about the murders.

I wasn’t sure how much longer the detective inspector would be able to keep the deaths under wraps, though. People were more than curious and now the police would be asking more questions about Sister Sarah.

But I understood why Kieran wanted to keep it quiet for as long as possible. Once people found out there had been two murders, they’d be tripping over themselves to get out of this place.

The nun’s pale face flashed through my mind. If I hadn’t seen the bleeding in her eyes, I wouldn’t have thought to look under her coif to find the bruising on her neck. Someone had strangled her and possibly held her underwater.

I shivered.

My sister cocked her head and stared at me strangely. Mr. Poe did the same thing when he was curious about something.

“What is going on?” she whispered. “Something else is wrong. You just went incredibly pale.”

“Later,” I whispered back. There were far too many people around. No matter what it took, I planned to speak to each and every one of them. Yes, I’d made Kieran a promise. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t get to know the fellow guests a bit better.

Someone was a killer, and we had to find them before they struck again.