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ELEVEN

The next morning at the library, I’d come to the end of my beginner’s writing class and opened the floor up for questions. Time had gone by quickly, but I was looking forward to a cup of coffee. I’d stayed up way too late reading the older manuscript. It left me with even more questions about why James had it on his table at the cottage.

Hands went up.

Focus .

I took a few questions, all of which were writing-related. The class was packed, and I was surprised no one asked about James’s death, given the rumors that had come out of the festival.

The biggest surprise was that several of our neighbors from the court were there. When the class was over, Rob and Scott, followed by Brenna, whose home was on the other side of us, walked to the front where I stood.

“That was amazing,” Rob said. “I’ve written cookbooks, but writing fiction is so different.”

“I’m grateful you helped fill seats, but what are you all doing here?”

“We wanted to support you and find out if you and Lizzie are okay,” Brenna said. She looked like a supermodel, even in her jeans, furry sweater, and boots.

I smiled.

“They’re being nosy,” Scott said. “I came because I’ve always wanted to write a book.”

Rob gave him a look of incredulity.

“It’s true, so it is,” Scott said. “Not a mystery, mind you. I want to write a sci-fi and fantasy novel along the lines of Star Wars , or maybe Dune .”

I wasn’t surprised since I’d seen his collection of books at his house. “You should,” I said encouragingly.

Several people stood behind them, waiting to chat with me. A few of them held books they probably wanted me to sign. “How about we meet at the pub for lunch? I’ll fill you in there.”

“We were thinking we’d meet at ours,” Rob said. “More privacy there. I’ll make you pork tacos. We’ve already asked Lizzie, and she said yes.”

I laughed. “Sounds good. And like you’ve planned it all. When?”

“We checked. You have a break at noon.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

The three of them and Lolly had become great friends and the best neighbors I’d ever had. I was surprised they’d waited this long to find out what was going on. Also, their festival duties took them to different places, and it wouldn’t hurt for them to keep an eye out for anything strange.

After answering a few more questions and signing some books, I headed out of the library. Kieran waited outside for me. He appeared worried.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

There were several people eyeing us curiously.

“Come with me to the station,” he said, glancing around.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?”

He cocked his head. “Why? What did you do now?”

We both laughed.

“No,” he said. “I have news that I don’t plan on sharing with the rest of the world. There are too many people around here.”

He wasn’t wrong. I followed him to the station and then to his office.

“The toxicology came back,” he said. “They were killed with the same poison. And it was in the tea.” He sat down behind his desk.

“So, what was it?”

He stared down at his desk.

“You don’t want to tell me, do you?”

“Goes against all of my training,” he said.

I sat down across from him. “Right. Never share information during an ongoing investigation. But what if we did a quid pro quo? Besides, you promised not to get hung up on procedures. You know I can help.”

“You first,” he said.

I glanced down at my phone. I had about twenty minutes before I had to be at the bookstore, which was a half-block down.

“I read through the older manuscript last night.”

“And was it his?”

“That I can’t tell you. It was very beginner-ish, and most likely written by someone young. But the story, well, that was interesting.”

“Tell me,” he encouraged.

“It was about a missing teen, and it takes place in Dublin. The thing is, I need to do more research, but it’s about a group of friends from a small town who go to Dublin for the weekend. Five of them go, and only four return.”

He frowned and rubbed his head. “I don’t remember anything like that happening here.”

“I think possibly because most of the investigation took place in Dublin. But I did some research last night. A Keeley Boyle went missing in Dublin in 1995. She was there with friends – James, the mayor, Mark Patrickson, and Finneas Hughes – celebrating her birthday, and went missing from a pub. She’d be in her fifties now.”

“The same age as James,” he said softly.

“I only had access to a few articles, but he was there. The newspaper reports said foul play was suspected, but nothing was proven.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going, especially if it involves the mayor.”

“Right. But the writer intimates one of them murdered her, and the others helped dispose of the body. The police came to the conclusion she’d run off and started a new life.

“The thing is, one of the friends from school went on to be a botanist. His name in the article was Finneas Hughes.”

“Doctor Hughes the botanist? He lives out on the cliff.”

“Yes, and later this afternoon he’ll be teaching a class on using poisons in mysteries and thrillers.”

Kieran’s brows furrowed. “Let me guess, you plan on attending.”

“Well, yeah. But are you going to pull him in?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. Unlike you, I need physical evidence to tie him to the murders. If he is guilty, we can’t show our cards until we have a better reason to hold him. He’s also a good friend of the mayor, so I have to go by the book.”

“The tea was poisoned, isn’t that enough?”

“No prints. Anyone could have made the tea. But the poison was one everyone in Ireland knows about, it’s called lords-and-ladies, and also cuckoo-pint. I can’t remember the science term. You don’t touch it. We learn that from an early age.”

“I’ve never heard of it. Trust me, I’ve done a lot of research in that regard.” I didn’t mean to sound like a know-it-all, but I used poisons a great deal in my work, and I never stopped learning about them.

“Like I said, I need prints or DNA to link him to the crimes. Or, at the very least, eyewitness accounts of him being at the cottage.”

“Pesky evidence,” I said.

He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Who else was mentioned in the articles you read, and can you forward those to me?”

“A teen named Mark Patrickson. I couldn’t find much about him.”

His eyebrows went up.

“What is it?”

“Mark Patrickson is Chef Patrick. That is what he goes by now. And my guess is he was a part of that same group. He’s about the same age.”

I’m sure my eyes were the size of saucers. “As in the guy who is catering all of our literary events and handling the food?”

“One and the same,” he said as he shuffled through some papers.

My phone alarm went off. “I’ve a few things to do, but I’ll attend the professor’s class later today. I’d planned on doing so anyway.”

“He’s a bit of a hermit,” he said. “I’m surprised they got him to speak at the festival.”

“He has a new book coming out—an academic one,” I said. I’d checked the schedule when I thought the name sounded familiar. “Probably his publisher didn’t give him a choice about doing publicity. That happens, even in the world of academia.”

“I may sneak into the event as well.”

“Oh, we’re meeting at Rob’s for lunch. Would you like to join the court gang?”

“They’re just going to pry for information.”

I nodded. “I’ll only tell them ‘bits and bobs’, as you like to say. They are helping out all over the festival. We could use them to keep an eye on our suspects. You’re understaffed with the events for the festival.”

He shook his head. “Do not mention the mayor or the botanist—actually, no names or type of poison. We can’t risk someone learning that information. It’s something we’re keeping quiet about.”

“I’m going to have to tell them something. You’ve met them.”

He grunted. “I can’t keep you from telling them about your experience in finding the bodies. But anything I’ve shared with you must be kept quiet. Or I won’t be sharing any more.”

“Noted.”

His phone rang. “I’ve got to take this. Let me know if you hear or see anything. And be safe.”

“Always.”

He huffed before answering his phone and I decided to see myself out.

After another author’s reading, Lizzie and I escaped for lunch. Scott and Rob’s beautiful garden assailed the senses with roses and other flowery delights. The one good thing about the rain in Ireland was the lush landscapes it created.

When Scott opened the front door, the warm, spicy smells from the kitchen wafted through the house.

“Oh. My. That smells like Texas,” Lizzie said.

We laughed.

“He’s been cooking like a demon,” Scott said. “We have enough for a small army. You’ve met him. He never does anything small.”

Rob was a talented chef, and also the sweetest man.

We headed toward the kitchen, but Scott paused in front of the dining room, where Lolly and Brenna sat at a beautifully decorated table. Spring flowers were in low, crystal vases on a sapphire tablecloth.

“This is beautiful,” Lizzie said. “If you came to ours for lunch, we’d be at the kitchen table with our daily-use plates and cutlery.”

“Same,” Brenna said. “But it’s Rob.”

“He was taking pictures earlier with a fancy camera,” Lolly said. “I came early to see if I could help. I think he’ll be using this in one of his cookbooks.”

Scott pulled out chairs for us. “The literary festival has inspired him to work even faster on his new cookbook.”

“I’m traveling around the world with this one,” Rob said as he came in with giant platters filled with spiced pork and corn tortillas.

“Did you hand-make the tortillas?” Lizzie asked.

“Of course,” he said. “I had to order some special masa, but I promise these are worth it.”

He sat the platters down in the middle of the table. “There’s more. Hon, come help me,” he said to Scott.

His partner followed him to the kitchen. A minute later, they brought in rice and beans.

“I’m going to need a nap after this one,” I said.

They all laughed.

“I’m curious how the festival is going, compared to past years,” Lizzie said as we passed the platters around the table.

“Attendance is up by a few thousand, and I think we have your sister to thank for that,” Lolly said.

“Me?”

“Yes, dear,” Lolly said. “You’re the biggest author we’ve ever had at our little festival.”

“On this side of the pond, I thought that would have been James,” I said honestly.

“I’m sure his presence didn’t hurt, but you’re the one most of the new visitors came to see,” Lolly said. “We have been checking the comment cards.”

“I’m glad I could help.” I was certain my cheeks were pink from embarrassment. I was aware that my novels had hit a certain level when it came to sales, but I would never grow used to the celebrity that came with that.

I was still just me. And no one was more surprised than me that my books were appreciated by so many.

“I’ve never thought about writing a book until today,” Brenna said. “Maybe a photography book, so a lot less writing. But you really inspired me to tell stories my way.” She was a talented photographer and did commercial, trade, and fashion shoots.

“You should,” Lizzie said. “I’d buy that book and carry it in the store. Your photos are amazing.”

My sister wasn’t wrong. “Would you do fashion or more of your travels?”

Brenna traveled all over the world for her work and always took extra time to photograph the world around her.

“Probably travel,” she said. “That way I wouldn’t have to get permission from the models and designers. That would be a real headache.”

“I can imagine,” I said.

“Your travel photos are gorgeous,” Lizzie said. “You always make me want to go to the places you shoot.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I said.

“You are both sweet. Maybe I really will do a book.”

“You should,” I said. “And while I know very little about photography, I’ll help you however I can.”

“I may take you up on that,” she said.

I ate some pork taco, and the spicy meat tingled along my tongue with just the right amount of heat. “Yum,” I said. “We won’t ever miss Texas with you cooking for us, Rob.”

He grinned. “Thank you. I’m glad to do whatever we can to keep you here.”

“Oh, we aren’t going anywhere,” Lizzie said.

Our friends all glanced at one another.

What was that about?

“I’m happy to hear you say that,” Lolly said. “That is, given the latest trouble.”

The murders were bound to come up.

“Are the rumors about us awful?” Lizzie asked. “Mercy said there was a lot of stuff online. I’ve been afraid to look.”

“I do not know about online, but no one in town believes you had anything to do with those poor souls,” Lolly said. “It is unfortunate you were the ones to find them both. I cannot imagine how awful that was for you. I’ve been worried it is too much, and you might want to run back to America.”

Lizzie shook her head. “I don’t understand why this keeps happening to us. But we aren’t going anywhere. I love Shamrock Cove and you all.”

Brenna patted her hand. “We feel the same way about you and Mercy. And I hate to be nosy, but can you tell us anything? Other than finding them dead had to be terrible?”

“We promised Kieran that we wouldn’t say anything,” I said. “And you’ve read most of what happened in the papers already. But I do have some questions for you all.”

They’d lived here far longer than my sister and I, and I hoped they had some answers.