Page 20

TWENTY

The next morning, I tidied my office and cleaned up the fingerprint powder that forensics had left behind. I doubted they would find any prints other than mine or Lizzie’s. The criminal who had pulled off the two clever murders would not have left fingerprints behind.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he or she might be trying to throw us off the trail by breaking into our house, unless it wasn’t the killer at all.

I shivered. No. It’s not possible .

But perhaps, given the publicity around the literary festival, it was. My appearance at the festival and the fact that I now lived in Shamrock Cove had been well publicized. Then there were the news articles online about me possibly killing James.

Had my New York stalker crossed the pond?

Lizzie and I had both experienced the feeling that someone had been watching us since we arrived in town.

“No. I will not let whoever did this win by making me scared in my own house.” I refused to let my mind go there.

I’d just settled at my desk to write when my cell rang. I may have jumped a little.

“Kieran, what’s up?”

“Gran said you’d wanted to speak with the headmaster. He’s back at the care home, and I wondered if you might want to go with me to ask him questions.”

“I—sure.” I was surprised he’d asked. Most of the time, he wanted me to stay away from the investigation unless he needed my expertise on something.

“Meet me at the station at a quarter past.” He hung up.

The clock on the wall showed I had fifteen minutes. I hurried to pour my coffee into a travel mug. I went back to my office and pulled out the stack of paper I’d printed at the library when I’d been doing research on James’s old friends.

At least the intruder hadn’t taken those. Though, he or she probably hadn’t noticed the papers on the printer or Mr. Poe had scared them away before they could grab them.

There was one photo in the newspaper of all the friends together. Just in case the headmaster needed faces to put with the names, I thought it might be helpful.

I grabbed my jacket. I made sure the house was locked before heading out of the court.

“Everything all right?” Rob asked from his garden. The day was sunny and bright. He wore a large straw hat and gloves. “We were wondering if the police found anything.”

I smiled. Of course, he and the rest of the court would be curious. That and everyone looked out for one another here.

“Nothing yet,” I said. “But you’ll keep an eye out for us?”

“Of course. And sorry for your trouble. I know that has to be unsettling—having a stranger in your home—again.” His tone indicated he was quite sincere.

“Thank you,” I said. “I feel better knowing you’re right next door.”

He smiled and waved me off.

When I hit Main Street, it was quite crowded. With our home behind a giant stone wall and set away from the town’s main drag, it was easy to forget the crowds. We’d been told it would be even busier when the summer tourists came to visit our beautiful beaches.

Fans stopped me a few times on the way to the station, making me about five minutes late. But when I finally arrived, Sheila motioned for me to go back to Kieran’s office.

He was finishing up a phone call and waved me to come in.

“Thank you for letting me know,” he said. And then he hung up.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“I’ve been on the phone with the coroner.”

“Oh?” I sat down across from him. “Is there any new information?”

“Both victims had the tea we found on the scene in their stomachs.”

“Which means Sebrena lied about going to the cottage the night James died.”

He nodded.

“Do you think she killed him and accidentally dosed herself? According to Doctor Hughes the cuckoo-pint plant is extremely dangerous.”

“If that was the case, she would have absorbed it through the skin, and there are no rashes or anything to indicate she touched the plant. And why would she drink it? It would take a deft hand to hide the poison in a tea.”

“You make a good point. Are you thinking it’s the botany professor? He’s the only one who might know exactly how to do that. Though, I can’t see his motivation. And believe me, I’ve been researching all of the friends.”

“As have we,” he said. “I’m not willing to point the finger at anyone until we gather more evidence.”

“Silly proof,” I joked. “That’s all you think about.”

“Funny how that works, as I am a detective. Should we go see what the headmaster has to say?”

“Yes. About that, I was surprised you invited me.”

He smirked.

“What?”

“I invited you because he loves books and writers.”

“Oh, then I should be flattered.”

“Aye. And he isn’t my biggest fan.”

I jerked my head back in surprise. “Why is that?” I followed him out the door.

“My ma and pa sent me here to live with Gran when I was young. I’d become a bother, and they thought she’d set me straight. Turns out they were right. But it took some doing, and the headmaster had no patience for my shenanigans.”

I shook my head. “You seem so…by the book. It’s difficult for me to imagine you as a troublemaker.”

He laughed. “I was a mess. But my parents had been right about Gran. Between her, the judge, and your grandfather, I was soon set on the proper path.”

“I knew about the judge. You mentioned that at his wake, but I didn’t know about my grandfather. I don’t think I realized you knew him that well.”

“Aye, everyone in town did. He was a good man and had a way with people. Even dumb kids like me. He’s the reason I started reading comic books and manga.”

I coughed. “You read manga?” I always associated the art form with young kids and a special breed of young adults who grew up with anime of all sorts.

“Aye. I’d loved the animated films and television shows growing up. Once your grandfather found this out, he carried a wide selection in the bookstore. The idea, he said, was that if I were reading, I wouldn’t get in trouble.”

I laughed. “I still can’t imagine you as a bad kid.”

“I wasn’t bad,” he said. “Just had a need to cause some trouble. But being here in Shamrock Cove, where everyone knows your every move, it wasn’t so simple. My parents were right to send me here. It was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s tough to get away with mischief when everyone knows exactly who you are, and who to call. It only took a few ear-twistings from Gran before I decided to change my ways.”

I smiled. “It’s my first time living in a place like this, and it does feel like people take the time to get to know you much faster.”

I was used to the coldness of New York, where you could be lying on a sidewalk, and people would just step over you. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. New Yorkers had seen more than most and tended to ignore everything around them.

“So, my being here is a buffer for you.”

He snorted. “Aye. The headmaster has a sharp mind and never forgets a transgression.”

I smiled. It was odd to see the detective intimidated. I couldn’t wait to meet the headmaster.

The care home was up the hill past the church and off on a side road about two blocks down. Like most of the buildings in town, it was at least three hundred years old, but had been built onto. The builder had tried to match the stone for the one-story annex, but it was still obvious which part was newer.

Inside, the scent of antiseptic mixed with bleach was powerful. After Kieran showed his credentials, we were ushered into a lounge area where residents played cards, watched television, or simply read in cushy chairs and sofas. I’d never seen so many walkers and canes in one place.

“The director asked that you wait for her here,” the receptionist told us. “She will take you to Mr. Charlton’s room.”

The residents glanced up from what they were doing as if curious to see the new arrivals. A few of them waved at Kieran and smiled. He waved back. They eyed me with curiosity, and I grinned. I loved the older generations, there was great wisdom in their eyes.

“Hey, ho, Kieran good to see you,” a black woman in her forties said as she approached us. She wore a set of scrubs with a name tag that said Deirdre Abebe.

He held out his hand to shake hers. “It’s good to see you, Deirdre. This is Mercy McCarthy. Sorry to be a bother, but we need to ask Mr. Charlton a few questions for background on a case.”

“Aye, he’s expecting you. We just got him settled, though. I’d appreciate it if you kept the visit short.”

“Not a problem,” Kieran said.

“I’ve read your mystery novels,” she said to me as we followed her down the hallway.

“Oh?”

“I recognized you from your book covers. You look much younger in person.”

Kieran and I laughed.

“Thanks, I think,” I said. “My friend Brenna took new headshots for me, so those will go in the next book.”

That had been Brenna’s suggestion since she agreed with the care home manager about my current bio picture making me look older than I was.

“Books are a blessing,” she said. “I love my job, but escaping into a good mystery helps me deal with the sadness we often face here. So, thank you for all the years of entertainment.”

“Thank you for taking care of the seniors in our society. I would not have the patience.”

She laughed. “You have no idea.”

As we turned down another hallway, she held out a hand for us to stop.

“Fair warning,” she said. “He’s in one of his moods. Was not happy with us for sending him to the hospital after his fall. But as I explained to him, it is procedure.”

“Was he hurt?”

She shook her head. “He’s fine. A few contusions, but nothing serious. He doesn’t like using his cane or the walker, but hopefully, now he will. He fell hard and scared us to death.”

She knocked on the door, and there was a grumbling answer inside.

“Like I said, he’s in a mood. Though, he’s often like that. Good luck to you. Don’t stress him too much more. The doctor said he needs his rest.”

“We’ll be quick,” Kieran said.

She opened the door and ushered us inside.

This wasn’t like any nursing home I’d been in before—not that I’d been in very many. There were floor-to-ceiling windows, room enough for a living area and bedroom, and even a flat-screen on the wall. The volume was so loud it hurt my ears, and the news played on the television.

“Mr. Charlton, you have some visitors. Our own detective inspector has brought a guest with him,” Deirdre said as she turned the television off.

The former headmaster was dressed in a cardigan that had leather patches on the elbow and brown slacks. Under the sweater, he wore a mock turtleneck. He reminded me of a character from a Dickens novel with his well-carved features and haughty air.

He sat in a wingback chair near the window. His room was decorated with an assortment of antiques and art.

“A guest? No one said anything about a guest,” he grumbled. Then he turned slightly, and stared me down.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” I said. “I understand you have a great historical knowledge of Shamrock Cove and its residents.”

He seemed to ponder that for a moment. “I suppose I know more than most,” he said grudgingly. “I’ve heard about you. The American writer whose sister has reopened Driscoll O’Heynes’s bookstore. I suppose you are doing some research into our fair town. But that doesn’t explain why the troublemaker is here.”

It was all I could do not to suppress a grin. The troublemaker indeed…

“I’m here in an official capacity,” Kieran said. “We need to ask you a few questions.”

“You trying to set me up for a crime? I have been in hospital.”

Kieran sighed. “No, sir. We need background information on some of your former students.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “And are you in the habit of needing the help of famous American writers to do your job?”

He stared pointedly at Kieran.

The detective ran a hand through his curly hair, which he often did when he was frustrated.

“Ms. McCarthy is a consultant with the department and has helped explore the literary aspects of the case.” To his credit, Kieran kept his voice level and didn’t give into the older man’s insults.”

“Literary aspects?” He turned his gaze to me. I sat down in the matching wingback chair across from him. Through the window there was a great view of the cobbled street below. “What do you want to ask me?” he said to me.

“When I found the body of James Brandt, there were two manuscripts on the table. One appeared as if it had been written years ago. Since you knew James and his friends when you were headmaster, we thought you might be able to give us some insight into them. And, perhaps, you might know something about them that might help with the investigation.”

He frowned. “Why would I know anything about a manuscript?”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean about the manuscript. I meant were they troublemakers like the detective?” I meant it as a joke, but neither man smiled.

He harumphed.

“They were far worse than Detective Inspector O’Malley. He never harmed others. His pranks were more a cry for attention, I’d say.”

I glanced up to find Kieran staring out the window, but there was a slight blush on his cheeks.

“But James and his friends were cruel?” I asked. “At least, that is what I’ve heard from some of those who were in school at the same time.”

“Aye, that’s an excellent word for them. We did our best to keep them separate, by making sure they did not share classes in the curriculum, but outside of school, we had little control over the miscreants.”

“So, you weren’t a fan of James.”

“Nay, he was the worst of them. Do not get me wrong, he had a brilliant mind. But he was walking trouble, and they all covered for one another. That made it nearly impossible to punish them for their deeds, but we all knew what they’d done.”

“That is why we are here,” I said. “I wondered if, perhaps, you knew of someone that might have wanted to get back at them. Maybe someone they pranked, who years later wanted to get even.”

He shook his head. “We’re talking about murder,” he said. “While they were awful teenagers, I can’t imagine anyone would do that.”

“Can you give me some idea of the pranks they did? Maybe some of the worst ones you can remember.”

“I remember them all,” he said. “My body may be feeble, but my mind is as sharp as ever.”

“I didn’t mean to say otherwise.” I smiled.

“Sir, we’re only interested in those cases where perhaps someone was so embarrassed they would hold a grudge all these years later.”

“You two are not listening. Those boys were too clever to get caught. While we suspected them of many things, we could never prove their part. And those they pranked, as you say, weren’t talking for fear of retribution, I’m certain. But that James, that one was rotten to the core. I know people liked his writing, but he was a terrible human being.”

I blinked. No one had come out and said that, though I was certain many of the people we’d talked to believed the same thing. I’d seen how he treated my sister and the fans. He wasn’t a very good person.

But why had someone murdered him?

I told the headmaster about the manuscript we’d found.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was loosely based on their exploits,” he said. “Though James was not the only writer back then. They all were well-read lads and part of what kept them together was they wrote books. I can’t imagine they would have been very good though.”

“So maybe it wasn’t James who wrote it?”

“You’d have to ask his friends. Though, even now they might not tell you the truth. Deceitful bunch, more than any crew we ever had at the school.”

“What do you think about the mayor?” I asked. “Do you think he could have written it?”

Mr. Charlton rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Least talented of all of them and not terribly bright. I can’t imagine he could string more than a few words together. I’m told his assistant writes his speeches. She’s Agatha’s granddaughter, who lives next door. His family had money, and I’m certain that was the only reason they let him be a part of their group.”

I didn’t know the mayor well, but the speech writing didn’t surprise me much. He seemed a man who enjoyed his position of power. And while he pretended to be welcoming and cordial, there was something about his demeanor that had never sat quite right with me.

Though, I often thought the same about most politicians who had any sort of power. I’d met a few in my world. Some were down to earth and perfectly lovely humans. Most believed too much of their own hype.

The mayor was too interested in being popular. But would he have killed his friend to keep something in the past from coming out into the open? And what would that have been?

“Is there any information you might have that could help with the investigation?” Kieran asked.

The elderly gentleman glanced up at the detective as if he’d forgotten he was there.

“As I said before, I knew them long ago. I can’t imagine any of my students would hold such a grudge as to commit murder. We taught you all better than that.” His gray eyes narrowed.

“But they were clever enough to tamper with school records,” he said. “That’s something we could never prove, but we knew it was them. I was always surprised by Finneas’s success as a professor.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“He barely skated through with his studies. His only interest back then was science and computers. He nearly failed at everything else. I was always certain he was the one who hacked into the school’s database and changed the grades. We’d only put them on the computer a year before. Those machines were still new to us.

“He was smart enough to change everyone’s marks so as not to draw attention to his friends. I always thought he’d end up in jail, but he was a clever hacker.”

That surprised me. Finneas Hughes didn’t seem the hacker type at all. He was the cliché professor with his patched-elbow sweaters and jackets. He reminded me more of the headmaster who sat in front of us.

They had been in school years ago and I always thought of hacking as something that happened in the last twenty years. But computers had been around for far longer.

I’d made the number one mistake an investigator shouldn’t. I’d assumed, from his current job and behavior, that he was a certain type of person.

“There is a rumor that James and that woman he worked with were killed by poison, is that true?” he asked.

I glanced up at Kieran. I knew better than to say, yes.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Kieran gave his pat answer. “The investigation is ongoing.”

Henry seemed to think on this and turned back toward the window. “Well, if it was poison, Finneas would be your man. I’ve followed his career at the university and into the private sector. He’s become quite the expert. And the one class he did excel at was chemistry. He had a propensity for creating reactions with his concoctions. But he and James were best friends. I can’t see him harming him.” He yawned. “I’m an old man, and I need my rest.”

With that, he closed his eyes. Kieran motioned for me to follow him out.

“What did you think?” I asked as we neared the entrance to the home.

“He didn’t give us much, though I didn’t know about the hacking,” he said. “I’ll need to follow up with the professor on that.”

“Could I go with you?”

He gave me a look.

“Call it research. I use poison a great deal in my books. It’s always interesting to talk to an expert.”

“You can be honest with me, Mercy.”

I sighed. “Fine. I like being part of the investigation. There. Does that make you happy? Now, can I go?”

“Yes. But it’s more about keeping you safe than anything. If I don’t take you with me, you’ll go out on your own.”

I still might .

Now that I had some history about the mayor, I had a few more questions for him—questions I didn’t think he’d answer in front of the detective.