Page 14

FOURTEEN

Mr. Poe bolted out and barked as he reached the front gate. It was pitch-black because of the clouds above. I squinted and looked to the right and left. No one was there. But Mr. Poe was a very good boy. He didn’t cause trouble unless he was worried about something.

Still, he could have been after a squirrel or rabbit. To him, the other small furry creatures that sometimes visited our garden were his nemeses. But he’d been quite upset, and I’d never heard him growl like that.

Had someone been in our garden? Soft rain fell, and I shivered. I popped open the umbrella to cover us.

“Come on, then,” I said. “Whoever it was is gone. Good for you, trying to scare them, though.”

I tried to convince myself it was a rabbit. We’d been warned that this time of year they could be a nuisance.

Inside, I grabbed a towel from my bathroom and dried Mr. Poe off. He sat there as if disappointed that we hadn’t caught the culprit—but he was patient. Once I had him dry, he trotted upstairs and back to bed with Lizzie.

I smiled. He was a peculiar little dog, but I adored him.

Had someone been trying to break in though?

No. The court was as safe a place as there was.

Unless it was the killer.

But why would they be after us?

Because I ask too many questions .

My nerves were jangled. I sat back at my desk and opened my notebook.

The sooner I figured out who was behind this craziness, the faster life could return to normal.

The next morning, I woke to my sister clearing her throat.

I was at my desk and lifted my head off my keyboard. I glanced at the screen, which was full of nonsensical words and letters. My face wasn’t a very good typist.

“You promised to make yourself go to bed and no more falling asleep at your desk,” she said. “It’s bad for your neck.”

I blinked, trying to think back as to why I was here. Then I remembered Mr. Poe’s intruder alert. I didn’t want to scare her, especially if it had been a small animal.

I glanced at the book on the edge of my desk.

“I found some more of Grandad’s letters.” I pointed to the book.

“Oh?” She smiled. “Are they to our father?”

I shook my head. “I wanted to wait for you, but I read one from our dad that hadn’t been opened. I thought we could go through them all together.”

“I’d like that. Let me look at the one from our dad.”

She read through it.

When she was done, she wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Do you think he didn’t make it back?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s something I’ve been wondering since we moved here.”

“What’s that?”

“We both feel like someone is watching us from time to time, but it doesn’t necessarily feel malevolent. What if it is our dad?”

Her head snapped up. “But why wouldn’t he contact us? And why didn’t he make things right with our grandfather?”

I sighed. “You’re right. I’ve just been wondering.”

She shivered. “It’s weird that someone might be watching us, but you’re right. We’ve both felt it. Maybe he has amnesia, or something like that.”

I smiled. “You are starting to sound like a writer.”

She chuckled. “I’ll leave the imaginary scenarios to you. I want to look at the rest of the letters, but I’ve got to get to the store early. Caro and I had a rush yesterday before the banquet, and we need to restock.”

“Do you need help?”

“No. We’ve got it covered. Some of the festival volunteers are coming in to help. Today, it’s all about romance writers. They are the loveliest people. Some came in yesterday and spent a small fortune at the store. They brought us cake.”

“Unlike we mystery writers who like to cause trouble.”

She laughed. “You all are perfectly lovely, well, apart from he who shall not be named. By the way, you’re going to give up on all of that, right?”

I couldn’t lie to Lizzie. We were twins.

“Before we get to twenty questions, I need coffee.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. I just worry about your safety. Our safety, really.”

“Trust me, I understand. The last thing I’d want to do is cause trouble for you, Lizzie.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Okay. Well, Mr. Poe and I are off to the store. Behave yourself.”

“Always,” I called out as she headed toward the door.

She laughed.

After a shower, one of Lizzie’s cinnamon rolls, and three cups of coffee, I texted Kieran. He was at the station, so I headed that way with my notebook.

Sheila was typing on the computer but motioned me to the back of the station where his office was.

He was on the phone.

“Right,” he said. “Can you pinpoint a time of death? Is there any way?”

His eyebrows went up. I sat down across from him.

“Do you have any idea when that will be?”

He sighed, and then hung up the phone.

“Problems?” I asked.

“Always. Dublin are still backed up. Celebrity or not, they don’t really care. Unlike my bosses, who demand answers and aren’t happy with excuses, like the lab is running behind. The superintendent is angry that there is so much media coverage and we have so little evidence. I keep getting the same run around from the coroner. They pinpointed the poison but can’t tell exactly how it was delivered to the victims.”

“I thought you said it was in the tea.” I frowned.

“Right, but why did it take another twenty-four hours to work on Sebrena? Did they ingest it at the same time? These are things I need to know right now.

“Do you have something new? Did the book we found at James’s cottage give you any more clues?”

I cleared my throat. “I talked with Lolly, and she said that Keeley left for America. So, the story in the book isn’t true. It may have been loosely based on the group of friends, but the novel isn’t exactly how it all happened. They helped her run off with her boyfriend and, apparently, she still lives there. I did a search for her but didn’t find anything on social media. But maybe she didn’t want to be found.”

“True. Were you able to tell if James wrote the manuscript?”

I shrugged. “It could be a very early version of his writing.”

“I spoke with Mrs. Byron who used to be the head librarian,” he said. “When they were kids, that same group was accused of several crimes that happened around town. Including early manuscripts from some lesser-known Irish writers that had gone missing from the library archives.

“To this day, she was certain James and his friends took them. But none of those crimes were ever proven.”

I pulled out my notebook. “Yes, Lolly told me a similar story yesterday. Of those friends, the mayor, Chef Patrick, and Doctor Hughes are the only ones left. Well, that live here in Ireland.”

He sat back in his chair. “The mayor is a problem. It’ll mean my job if I even hint he’s a suspect. He’s already blaming me for the two murders as if I committed them.”

It was strange to see Kieran stressed. He was usually the calmest person in the room.

“I’m not sure why, but he likes me,” I said. “I can tell him I’m doing research for something. But do we have any real reason to suspect him?”

“No. Other than being a part of that group, Doctor Hughes doesn’t have an alibi for the murders. He lives alone and outside of town. He does have household staff who work for him, but they were off the day of the first murder.”

“That feels suspicious, and the fact that he would know how to use the poison.”

“But also kind of obvious. As if someone might be setting him up,” Kieran said.

I blew out a breath. “True. Chef Patrick seems obvious, as well. I mean, jealousy is quite often a motive for murder.”

“Right. Except, he has a decent alibi for each of the murders. He had kitchen help around him most of the day that Sebrena died. And his girlfriend said he was home the night James died.”

“I’d feel better about life if we could figure out who is going around poisoning people. It’s making me paranoid. Last night, Mr. Poe started growling like someone was on the other side of the front door.”

“Was there?”

“Not that I could see. It might have been a small animal.”

“Have you given yourself away? Who was the last person you talked to?”

“Why do you always blame me?”

“Because you aren’t always discreet when you suspect someone.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“I spoke with the mayor and the chef. Oh, and I asked Doctor Hughes some questions during his class. So, all of them.”

He frowned. “I told you to be careful.”

“I was. What about James’s home in Dublin? Did the police find anything?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been so busy with the evidence here that I haven’t been through it all. They’ve logged everything.”

“I realize I’m an outsider, but I’m a pro with research,” I said. “I could help.”

He shook his head. “I think you have helped enough.”

“That’s not fair.”

He blew out a breath. “You have been helpful. I just do not like the idea of you tipping off the killer that you have found them out.”

“I haven’t done that,” I said. “I can assure you. You have a small staff, and I’m sure a great deal of information to go through. It’s just research and much safer than me interviewing the suspects, right?” Though, he couldn’t keep me from doing that either.

“Put some files in a folder or on a thumb drive. I can review papers and photographs for you and flag anything interesting. I have some free time. Let me help.”

That wasn’t true. I should have been writing when I wasn’t helping with the festival. But we needed to find the killer.

“You will keep insisting, won’t you?”

“We’ve only known each other a few months, but you understand me well, Kieran. Just let me help, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“And you will leave the interviewing of suspects to me?”

“Yes.” Except for the appointment I’d made with the mayor. My plan was to tell him it was research for a book. As a fan of my writing, he’d already offered his expertise on political scenarios more than once. But Kieran didn’t need to know about that.

Oh, and I still needed to speak with the former headmaster of the local secondary school.

He pulled a thumb drive from his desk and plugged it into his computer. “If you tell anyone I’ve done this, it will be my job.”

“I’m the soul of discretion.”

His eyebrows went up, but he moved files over. “I’m giving you half of the photos and all the manuscripts they found on his hard drive.”

“What do you hope for me to find in the manuscripts?”

“That he wrote them all,” he said. “I keep thinking, why kill a writer? We found the old manuscript at the cottage. But what if he plagiarized or hired another writer to pen his novels? I hear that sort of thing happens all the time.

“In the photos, look for any that may have Shamrock Cove residents in them. Some tie to what has been happening would be helpful. I do not expect anything to jump out, but one never knows.”

It was something.

He handed over the thumb drive.

“This goes nowhere,” he said, before releasing it.

“Agreed. Anything I find is for your eyes only.”

After checking with Lizzie at the store to see if she needed my help, I headed home to number three. I made some coffee and then sat down at my desk.

My cell buzzed, but I didn’t recognize the number. I let it go to voice mail.

A minute or so later, I listened to the message.

“This is Margie, the mayor’s executive assistant,” the voice said. “He’ll need to cancel his appointment with you this afternoon. He has town business to attend to and hopes you understand.” She hung up.

I noted there had not been an opportunity to reschedule for a later date offered.

He doesn’t want to talk to me.

But why?

I turned my attention to the computer files I’d been given.

Research could sometimes be tedious, but this was delving into someone’s life. I decided to go through the photos first. Some had been downloaded from James’s phone. Kieran must have found them. There weren’t many. Unlike most of us, James didn’t seem to keep a photobiography of his life. There was the odd building or body of water on a trip, but that was about it.

A folder of photos from his home contained some older and slightly tatty ones, as if kept in a box rather than an album. Some of the reproduced ones were difficult to make out.

About an hour into my flipping through the photos, I stopped on one that had James as a young man with some other teens. It took me a minute to realize this was the group of friends Lolly had been talking about. I was able to place James, the mayor, and some of the others. But I didn’t recognize a couple of people standing in the back.

I printed out the photos and circled the ones I didn’t recognize. Then I continued my search for several more hours. By the time Lizzie had come home, I had printed six photos that I had questions about.

At least there wasn’t a big banquet to attend. This evening, writers from various genres were to meet all over town to talk in individual groups. It was a chance for writers to network with others who wrote the same thing they did, and I thought it was a very good idea.

“You’re working hard,” she said from the doorway of my office.

“Just doing research. How was the store today?” I’d promised Kieran I’d be discreet. I didn’t usually keep secrets from my sister, but I’d told the truth. This was research.

“Busy. I’m not sure what I’d do without Caro and the volunteers.”

“I could have helped.”

She shook her head. “We made it through fine. The romance authors we were working with today were just lovely. Their fans bought tons of books. I’m glad to have a night off.”

“I am, too,” I said.

“Except you’re working.”

I laughed. “True. Just catching up on some things.”

“Is there anything you want for dinner?”

“I was thinking of heading down to the pub,” I said. “It’s shepherd’s pie night.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re right. Let me wash up, and I’ll go with you.”

I nodded. My plan was two-fold. One of the people who knew a lot about Shamrock Cove history was Matt, who owned the pub with his mom. He was a talented barista and bartender and was up on all the local gossip. He often joked it came with the job.

He was quite a bit younger than the mayor, but his mom would have been around back when James had lived here. Between the two of them, I might get a better feeling for the group of friends.

A half-hour later we set out for the pub. Thanks to the festival, the place was packed. The only seats were up at the bar. We didn’t mind. We sat down at the end of the bar and waited patiently for Matt to make his way over to us.

“How are two of my favorite people in the world?”

“Hungry,” I said. “Please tell us there some of your mom’s shepherd’s pie left.”

He gave us a dazzling smile. “Of course,” he said. “Are we drinking pints or coffee tonight?”

Lizzie and I looked at one another. “Pints,” we said at the same time.

“Aye, to be sure you’ve had some busy days,” he said.

“That we have,” Lizzie said.

He walked away, and my sister bumped my shoulder with her own. “Are you going to tell me why we are really here?”

She was way too observant for her own good. As my twin, it was impossible for me to hide much from her.

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” I said.

“So, you’re helping Kieran,” she whispered.

I sighed. “I’m just looking through some things for him.”

“So, the research wasn’t for your book.”

“How do you know these things?”

“You have a tell. It’s why I always win when we play poker.”

“I do? What is it?”

She made the zipper motion with her fingers across her lips.

“Unfair,” I said.

“But if you’re doing research on your computer, why did you need to come to the pub? Wait. Matt’s mom. She’d be about the same age as the group you’ve been talking to.”

“Maybe you should be doing the investigating.” I rolled my eyes.

She frowned. “I thought you were done with all of this.”

“Most of it really is just research. And we know that Matt and his mom are safe. I just need her to confirm a few things.”

“Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“That’s why I’m using my computer for most of this.”

“Except we are here with lots of people around,” she continued to whisper.

“I was curious what they were like in school,” I said. “She would have been younger than them. It won’t hurt to ask privately if she knew anything.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But it’s too crowded in here for you to chat with Matt’s mom with any privacy.”

She had a point.

Matt set our pints in front of us.

“Mom’s taking a fresh pie out of the oven. It’ll be ready soon.”

“That sounds great,” Lizzie said.

Several people left at once and Matt gathered up a tub to clear their dishes.

“You’re busy. Let us help with the clearing up,” Lizzie said.

“No. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Someone at the other end of the bar was trying to get his attention.

“You’ve got a customer who needs you. We don’t mind helping out,” she said, reaching over the bar to grab the tub he held.

“Okay, thanks. Dinner is on me tonight then.”

“That isn’t necessary,” she said.

“No arguments.” He pointed a finger at her.

“Deal,” I said.

“What are you doing?” I asked as we cleared off the tables.

“Getting you into the kitchen with Matt’s mom,” she whispered. She handed me the loaded-down tub of dishes. “Take this back and see what you can find out.”

I smiled.

My sister was incredibly clever.

Now, to find out what Matt’s mom might know.