Page 7

SEVEN

The awards banquet was packed with festival attendees who had signed up to sit with their favorite authors at a table. Even though James was gone, several fans still sat at his table with Sebrena holding court. She smiled and talked nonstop.

Those at the table seemed to watch her as if she might be a bit off. Well, maybe more than a bit.

Lolly introduced the first speaker, who was the mayor. I’d met him a few times at various events. Like many politicians, he was a smooth talker, but it was difficult to believe anything he said about our little town being comparable to the capital city. The ones on this side of the pond weren’t that different than their American counterparts.

He reminded me of those sports guys who peaked in high school or college and kept telling the same stories over and over.

The place had been decorated like a fairytale with ficus trees covered in twinkling lights. Flower garlands hung from the ceiling and walls, and candles lent a soft glow to the carefully decorated tables. It was all quite magical.

“Welcome to our Shamrock Cove Literary Awards Banquet,” he said. “I’m Mayor Thomas Gilfoy. I want to take a moment to thank our extraordinary literary committee for hosting this auspicious event.”

Everyone clapped.

“And to thank our many authors who have contributed their time to make this event a success.”

There was more clapping and a few whistles. It was an enthusiastic crowd.

“It would be remiss of me not to mention our hometown hero, James Brandt, who will be much missed. I went to school with James, and he was a talented fellow.” While he said positive words about the author, the mayor didn’t sound or look enthusiastic, which made me think there may have been some bad blood there. He didn’t have much of a poker face, which wasn’t great for a politician.

I wondered if he’d been close to the author.

I put him on my mental list to talk to later.

He went on for a while, and then I heard my name. Lizzie gave me a soft elbow in the ribs. Everyone clapped, and I headed toward the stage. I wasn’t much for public speaking, but it quite often came with the job. As long as I was prepared, and I was, everything was fine.

At least, that was what I told my stomach as nerves twisted it and made my throat dry.

“Good evening,” I said. And then had to clear my throat. “Mayor Gilfoy is such a talented speaker, and he’s a tough act to follow. Let’s give him a hand.”

There was a smattering of applause.

He smiled and nodded. I hoped some goodwill might get me an interview with him later.

“We often say writing isn’t brain surgery,” I said. “But it is psychology. A good writer knows why characters do things and the motivation behind their actions. For those who write mysteries and thrillers, it is essential that we understand why someone commits murder, and other crimes. At the same time, we must give the reader reasonable explanations and clues dropped along the way. It isn’t always easy. But those winning awards this evening have done that and so much more. They’ve crafted wonderful tales that keep us guessing until the very end.”

I paused for some applause.

“As the mayor said, we lost one of Ireland’s great writers. The loss of James Brandt will be felt by the writing community here for years to come. Most of you are aware of his many accolades, so I won’t repeat them here. I’m sure he took great comfort from his many fans who adored him. Let’s raise a glass to your hometown hero, James Brandt.”

Glasses were raised, and then everyone drank.

“Now on to our festivities for the night. Here to announce our first category is my sister, festival committee member, and bookstore owner, Lizzie McCarthy.”

We hugged as she appeared on the stage, and I noticed her hands shaking.

“Take a deep breath,” I said.

She smiled and nodded.

“I have the honor of announcing the winner of our thriller category,” she said. The names of the nominees went up on a screen behind her. “As you know, festival attendees voted for each category. And the winner for thriller is…” She opened the envelope. “James Brandt.”

People clapped politely.

“Accepting the award for James is his agent, Sebrena Walker.”

Sebrena’s red sequined dress was so tight I wasn’t sure how she could move, or breathe, in it.

She took the award from my sister and put it on the podium. Then she pulled out several pages of paper.

This is going to be a long night .

“Our beloved James would have been so happy with this great honor you have bestowed upon him,” she said formally. “As you all know, he was taken far too soon by a tragedy. I knew when I met him many years ago…”

She went on for a full five minutes, talking about herself more than the author she represented. She’d done much the same at the church earlier in the day.

I noticed her squint as she looked toward the back of the room. I glanced behind me to find Chef Patrick, with his arms crossed, giving her the death stare.

He obviously hadn’t forgotten their argument. He and Sebrena had been married for three years. It didn’t matter how long ago they’d broken up. He still didn’t like her very much.

Funnily enough, when I glanced at the mayor, he had the same look, as if he felt her words were distasteful.

Did the mayor have that much history with James? I’d have to ask.

By the time all eight awards had been announced, it was nearing nine p.m., and the attendees left quickly. Tomorrow, thankfully, was an easier day, but I had an early morning reading and needed my beauty sleep.

Still, I very much wanted to speak with the mayor. He seemed intent on escaping through the crowd as quickly as possible. I followed him outside, but he’d disappeared into the night.

Darn. Our chat would have to wait.

“Who are you looking for?” Kieran’s voice made me jump.

“You have to stop sneaking up on me like that,” I said.

He smiled, and my stomach flew into a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

“I came to find you,” he said. “Did you win an award?”

I shook my head. “Since I was helping the committee, I recused myself from the competition.”

“Ah.”

“Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Nay. Why did you think we should do a tox screen on the author?”

I blinked, trying to think back to earlier when we’d found the body. I shrugged. “I don’t know. The fact that he pulled the bookshelf on top of himself made me think maybe he’d been staggering or sick and reached out to steady himself. That and the two cups on the table. Someone had been there with him. And the bluish tinge around his mouth. Why?”

“I did have them run a tox screen. They haven’t identified the toxin, but there was something in his system.”

My eyes went wide. “So, he was poisoned?”

“Until they can identify it, which will be a few days, we can’t be sure. We know there was something in his system that stopped his heart.”

“Oh.”

“Is there anything you’d like to share with me?” he asked. Then he stared at me pointedly.

“I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been seen around town talking to various people. It’s almost like you might be investigating, which I seem to remember you promising you wouldn’t do.”

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t realize talking to people was against the law in Shamrock Cove. Is that in the court’s housing book? I read it cover to cover, and I don’t remember it saying that?”

“I thought if I were forthright with you, perhaps you’d be the same with me. You will investigate whether I want you to or not, so I thought perhaps we could share information to save time. And if we do, perhaps we can keep you out of harm’s way.”

I threw a hand against my chest. “You want my help? I feel faint,” I joked.

He smirked. “So? Why don’t we begin by you telling me what you’ve discovered so far.”

“I learned earlier today that Sebrena was once married to the chef catering our events for the festival. And he was giving her the evil eye tonight during the awards ceremony. But that might have more to do with the fact that she was demanding he change part of the menu for tonight, which he, rightfully so, refused to do.”

“And?”

“She left him for James. He mentioned a no-talent hack.” I explained what I’d overheard.

Kieran’s eyes widened with surprise. Maybe he hadn’t made that connection yet. It made me happy that in some way I was able to help. And turn any sort of suspicion about my sister and me onto someone else.

“Okay. What else?”

“Evidently, the mayor knew James in school. He claims they were friends. But he didn’t seem particularly broken up over his death. He too was staring daggers at Sebrena while she waxed poetic about James.”

Kieran held up a hand. “Please, stay away from the mayor. The last thing I need is him filing charges against you for harassing him. I have a hard enough time with the man who constantly threatens my job.”

I frowned. “That’s awful. You’re great at what you do.”

“Says the woman who is constantly poking her nose into said job.”

“I can’t help it if I’m naturally curious.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t even had a chance to really talk to him,” I said. At least, not yet. “I don’t trust the agent. If I had to pinpoint a suspect in James’s death, it would be her. They seemed at odds from what I heard. He made some not-so-nice comments about her during our panel.

“If she was about to lose him as a client, maybe she offed him before that could happen. You’ve seen how she acts. Everything is more about her than him.”

“What else?”

“Well, that seems quite a lot. But I do plan to talk to the headmaster of James’s old school, Henry Charlton. Your grandmother told me that he’s in a care home, but I didn’t have time to make it over there today.”

“What would Henry know?”

I shrugged. “I was looking more for background on what kind of kid James might have been and if he left any sort of bad blood behind. There is no telling what he might have done when he was younger. And people have been known to hold grudges.”

Kieran raised an eyebrow.

“Then there is the unidentified manuscript, which was about twenty years old, at least the paper looked like it. It’s impossible for me to know for certain.”

Except I had boxes of manuscripts back in New York, where I’d lived the last twenty years or so. Everything was in cold storage while I leased my apartment, but I’d kept every manuscript I’d written. And I knew paper.

“So you went through the manuscript?”

I cleared my throat. “I’m just going by what I saw at the cottage.”

“What does the book have to do with anything?”

“Well, I have no idea,” I said. “But from the quick glance I had when we found him, it didn’t look like something he’d written. Or maybe he did write it a long time ago. I just found it odd that it was on the same table with his newest manuscript.”

“How do you know it was his newest?” Kieran asked.

“The title page is the same as his next book. He mentioned it when we were on a panel the other night. He said it would be out next year. But why were they on the table together? And why were there two cups? Did he show the books to someone? Or had someone brought the older manuscript to see if James could get it published? That quite often happens to me. People want to give me their manuscripts to give to my agent or editor. Of course, I can’t accept them. Nor would my agent or editor be open to reading something unsolicited. But writers can sometimes be pushy when it comes to their work. I just feel like that older manuscript means something. I’d like to read it through.”

I let that hang in the air.

“If you’ll wait and talk to Henry with me, I’ll let you read it.”

Progress . It was all I could do not to clap my hands. A few months ago, he would have told me to butt out. But over time we’d grown to trust one another enough to discuss just about everything to do with cases. My sister called our get-togethers dates. I found them informative research.

Then I eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you being so nice about me being nosy?”

“Because your nose is smart, and I came to find you to see what you could tell me about the older manuscript.”

I smiled. “Oh.”

“Stop by the station in the morning, and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay.”

He started to walk away.

“Kieran?”

“Aye?” He turned toward me.

“You’re thinking because of the toxin that we have a murder, aren’t you?”

“Aye. But say nothing, and do not investigate on your own. We know how dangerous that can be. If you’re curious about something, come to me first.”

“Okay.”

I may have blushed. His voice had a note of concern as if he were truly worried about my safety. We chatted as we headed down the hill, and parted when we reached the station.

“Promise you will keep your head down.”

“I promise.”

I headed home around the corner toward the court, but more than once I looked over my shoulder. I felt like someone was watching me.

When I turned, I didn’t see anyone.

But I knew from previous experience that didn’t necessarily mean someone wasn’t there. I’d had my fair share of stalkers, one of whom had broken into my apartment on the Upper West Side in New York more than once.

One could never be too careful.

I shivered and hoped that the stalker in New York hadn’t followed me to Shamrock Cove.