Page 62 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

The dressmaker worked out of a mid-sized cabin structure located beside a pub at the end of Spiddal village. Net curtains draped the one large window and the glass panel in the door.

‘Aren’t you cutting it a bit fine, Grace?’ Lottie asked.

‘I’m not cutting anything. The seamstress does that.’

She tried not to roll her eyes. ‘I mean the wedding is this Sunday. What if the dress isn’t right? You haven’t much time to rectify it.’

‘It will be grand. I’m just collecting the dress. I got it all sorted the other day when you were supposed to be with me but then you let me down.’ Grace looked at her pointedly.

Without rising to the barbed remark, Lottie said, ‘Why do you need me today if you’re only collecting it?’

‘I’m going to try it on and I want you to give me your opinion. I don’t want to look a fool in front of Bryan.’

Taking a deep breath, she followed Grace inside and hoped she could keep her reaction in check. No way would she tell her the dress was anything but gorgeous.

The seamstress, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, stood to greet them in her cluttered space. She was as lean and as tall as Lottie, and though she was beautiful, with glinting green eyes, her features were hard. Lottie hoped her own face was a little softer.

Rolls of material lined the shelves and the large work table held a sewing machine and other implements. A sheet draped over a mannequin made Lottie shiver. It looked like a cartoon ghost.

‘Ladies.’ The woman’s eyes focused on Grace. ‘Your dress is ready for you, young lady. Are you game for one final try-on?’

‘Game?’ Grace’s eyebrows knitted in apparent confusion.

‘Do you want to try it on for your… eh… friend?’

‘This is my future sister-in-law, Lottie Parker,’ Grace said. Lottie prayed she wouldn’t say she was a detective. ‘She’s a detective inspector in Ragmullin and my brother is a detective sergeant. She’s his boss.’

Lottie felt her cheeks flush, and the woman smiled awkwardly, holding out her hand in greeting.

‘Pleased to meet you, Detective Inspector.’

Lottie shook the hand. It was as rough as sandpaper. ‘Lottie will do.’

‘Ann Wilson. Ann will do.’

‘Pleased to meet you too,’ Lottie replied, feeling like a parrot. Wilson? She wondered if she was anything to do with the councillor who had apparently become a thorn in Mooney’s side.

‘Grace,’ Ann addressed her client, ‘off you go to the fitting room. Your dress is all ready for you.’ She pointed to the end of the cabin.

Lottie could swear Grace actually skipped behind the curtain that was hanging there.

The air felt too warm and there was no chair to sit on. She leaned against the wall and fanned herself with her hand.

‘Are you okay?’ Ann asked. ‘Here, have my chair.’ She led Lottie around the large table. ‘Would you like some water?’

‘Please. It’s so hot in here.’

‘I like the heat.’ She extracted a bottle of water from a small fridge behind the table. ‘But I keep hydrated. Sorry, I’ve no glass.’

‘This is okay.’ Lottie accepted the bottle gratefully, unscrewed the cap and drank.

‘You’re here for the wedding then?’

‘Yes. Looking forward to it,’ she lied. God, but she had no interest in it. Not now that she yearned to be involved in Mooney’s murder investigations.

‘I believe it’s to be a small affair,’ Ann whispered. ‘Bryan is a lucky man. Wasn’t always so. But he fell into luck… Then again, maybe he made his own luck.’

Lottie sat up straight and placed the bottle on the cluttered table, careful in case it toppled and spilled over the delicate material Ann had been working on. ‘Oh, why is that?’

‘I don’t want to speak out of turn.’

‘I won’t tell anyone.’

Ann laughed. ‘We sound like two schoolchildren conspiring in the playground.’

‘I need help with these buttons,’ Grace said from behind the curtain.

‘Be with you in a second.’ Ann picked up a pair of scissors. Noticed Lottie eyeing her. ‘In case there’s a loose thread.’ She went off to assist Grace.

Lottie took a business card from a bundle stacked in a small box on the table.

Ann Wilson. Again she wondered if she was related to Councillor Denis Wilson.

No harm in asking. First, though, she had to fix her expression into one of joy for the dress she was about to see. She slipped the card into her pocket.

But when Grace emerged from the fitting room, Lottie found she did not need to fake her reaction.

Boyd’s sister looked radiant in an off-white calf-length dress of satin.

One shoulder was bare and the other had a diamanté strap.

The waist was similarly adorned, though the sparkling belt was wider.

The skirt rippled around her body like a stream in a breeze.

She had let her hair down, and with her pale skin, she looked like a Greek goddess.

‘Wow!’ Lottie gasped. ‘My word, it’s beautiful. You are beautiful.’

‘Really? You like it?’ Grace did a twirl, and Lottie grinned. She had never seen the young woman this happy. Then Grace’s face dropped. ‘You don’t really like it. I think you’re being insincere.’

‘God, Grace, no. I love it. Honestly. It’s fab on you.’ She turned to Ann. ‘It’s amazing. You are so talented.’

Ann blushed. ‘Ah, thank you. I love my work. I delight in transforming a bolt of material into a magical piece. And I agree. It looks fantastic on you, Grace. You bring the dress to life.’

‘Thank you. Now I’ll take it off and pay you what I owe. Then I need to go home to make the dinner.’

When the curtain dropped back and they were alone again, Lottie took Ann by the elbow and led her to the other end of the room.

‘What did you mean earlier? About Bryan?’

‘Oh, nothing. Don’t mind me. It was just gossip anyhow.’

‘I’d like to know. I don’t want Grace getting hurt.’

‘Grace is a beautiful, innocent human being. But we all get hurt. It’s called living life.’

She heard a touch of bitterness in Ann’s cadence. ‘Please tell me what you know.’

Ann leaned against a shelf holding bolts of material. ‘It’s nothing really. Just that he wasn’t nice as a youngster. That’s what I heard. He was even sent to Knockraw for a time.’

‘A lot of young men were sent to industrial schools through no fault of their own.’ Lottie felt like she was trotting out a well-worn phrase, she’d used it so often in the last few days.

‘From what I heard, it was his own fault.’

‘What did he do?’

Ann glanced towards the dressing room. ‘It’s only hearsay.’

‘Hearsay from whom?’

‘My husband.’

‘Is he the councillor?’

‘Yes, Denis Wilson.’

‘And he knows Bryan O’Shaughnessy?’

‘Everyone around here knows Bryan.’

‘So what did Bryan do?’

‘I’m not saying. You can find out from someone else. But it’s enough to know that what happened to his family was not nice. And now he has the farm and all that land.’

‘Sounds like sour grapes to me.’ Lottie said the words out loud without meaning to.

Ann pushed away from the shelving unit. It wobbled, but nothing fell from it. ‘I’ve said enough.’

‘I apologise. I was out of order. I’d like to know more.’

The fitting room curtain twitched. ‘I can’t talk now.’

‘I have your card. I’ll give you a call later.’

Grace emerged, still glowing. She handed the dress to Ann. ‘I’d like to pay. How much is my balance?’

Lottie remained standing where she was and watched as the seamstress began to search for a suitable zip cover and hanger for the beautiful dress. She felt that the excitement of earlier was tainted. And once again, it was her fault.

The simple one is getting married to the monster. A dress fitting, no less. As if anything could look good on her. She does not deserve happiness, because she is getting married to him. And he definitely does not deserve to find happiness this late in his life.

The detective could cause me a problem as she is a bit of a mystery.

I don’t want her to detract from my mission, though.

She is not on my itinerary. I need to get rid of the others first. All those who committed the sins of the past. And then I can rest easy in the knowledge that I will be the only one left who knows the truth.