An Early Wake (12 page)

“I will. See yeh in a bit.” Rose all but ran out the front door. Maura watched her through the window and saw Rose crossing the street before heading down to the Keohanes’ house below the road.

She turned to find Niall leaning on the bar, minus the entourage he’d had all day. “A pint?” Maura asked.

“Please,” he said.

Maura started the pint, then looked up to see Rose returning with a rather bedraggled Tim. The last time she had seen Tim, the night before, he hadn’t appeared to be drunk, but he certainly looked hungover now. Rose all but dragged him toward the bar.

“Well, Tim, looks like you must have had quite a night.” Maura greeted him. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“I don’t know. Could I get a cup of coffee?”

“I’ll get it,” Rose said quickly.

Tim settled himself on a stool without even noticing who his near neighbor was. Niall took pity on him. “Yeh should be pleased with yerself, after what yeh started.”

Tim focused slowly, then recognized Niall. “Maybe I should have left well enough alone.”

That was an odd comment, Maura thought. He’d been so eager only the day before. What had happened?

Niall appeared taken aback. “Why are yeh sayin’ that? I thought it was a grand evening. Haven’t seen the like for quite a while. Were yeh disappointed?”

“No. It’s just—it wasn’t what I expected. None of it. Excuse me.” He stood up abruptly and bolted for the bathroom. Maura hoped he made it in time before he lost whatever he’d had to eat that day. And why was he still drunk this long after the event had ended?

She looked at Rose, but Rose looked as bewildered as she felt.

Niall had an odd half smile on his face. “Looks like he was pretty much hammered, eh? Not much experience with hard partying, that one. He’ll learn.”

Tim came back, still pale around the gills. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to say yeh didn’t do a great job last night, Maura. It’s just that it wasn’t what I thought it would be. That’s on me. And yeh were wonderful . . . Niall.”

Maura glanced at Rose. “Did you tell him . . . ?”

Rose shook her head. “I hadn’t the chance.”

Tim blinked. “Tell me what?”

“Tim, I’m sorry to say that Aidan Crowley is dead. I found him here when I opened up.”

Tim turned even paler than he had been before and dashed back toward the toilets.

T
he night dragged on and on. Tim remained in hiding for a while, then slunk back into the room and sat in a dark corner, looking miserable. Rose volunteered to go to the takeaway place and bring back some food for Maura, Mick, Jimmy, and Sean, and even Tim, although she had to know he might not have much of an appetite.
What is his problem?
Maura wondered. He wasn’t talking to anyone at the pub—not Rose, not even the music semi-stars who had wandered in. Despite Aidan Crowley’s untimely death, Tim should have been in his element, collecting a wealth of material for his project as well as a unique perspective on how music worked in this corner of Ireland. And yet now he was missing more opportunities—why?

Niall had hung around too, graciously fielding questions from others who came in and worked up the courage to talk with him. When he was briefly alone, Maura went over and said, “No music tonight?”

Niall looked at her curiously. “I’d say it’s not the right thing fer now. Wouldn’t you?”

“I agree, but I wasn’t sure what local customs are.”

“Did you say yer from Boston? Surely there’s enough Irish there to carry on the old customs.”

“I guess. I didn’t pay much attention, and I think a lot of it was aimed at tourists, and it wasn’t really authentic. So why no music to honor one of your, uh, fallen comrades?”

“Because we don’t know the story. When we do, then we’ll honor him.”

Niall thinks there is a story? That’s odd.
“I hope it will be soon.”

Niall looked around him. “Seems to be doing yer business no harm.”

Maura was stung by his comment, though it was true. “Not my preferred way to make money,” she said sharply.

Niall ducked his head. “Fair enough. My apologies.”

“Accepted,” she replied with a sigh. “So tell me, were you and Aidan close?”

“Twenty years ago, I’d have said yes—as well as I knew any of me mates. Most of us who played with one band or another have run into each other now and again. Or used to. A lot have left the music behind now.” Niall took another long draw of his pint. He glanced around; most people had returned to their own conversations, with only the occasional glance his way. “Aidan and I, we go way back. Like so many lads back then, we started playin’ together before we left school. He had some talent, back then. We must’ve been part of, oh, three or four bands, but he and I were the only ones who stuck with it.”

“How far did he go?”

“He did a demo album or two that got some attention, but somehow something always went wrong. The recording company folded or the gigs stopped coming or yet another band member dropped out. Never his fault, exactly—he showed up and did his part, but he had lousy luck.”

“You two didn’t stick together?”

“Not after the first coupla years. Not that we had a falling-out, but we ended up going in different directions, kinda. He kept on with the fiddle. A lot of bands then, and even now, still hung on to the old Celtic sound, so he found work often enough.”

“Did he get into drink or drugs?”

“Yeh know about his heart?” When Maura nodded, Niall said, “He knew he couldn’t do that kinda thing. But he also couldn’t do much heavy work, and that was most of what was available then, to a lad with little education. Again, he was dealt a bad hand. He tried, truly, but he never caught a break.”

“Did you keep in touch with him?”

“Now and again. I mean, the man knew me when, if yeh hear what I’m sayin’. I could be meself with him, not some aging idol.” Niall leaned back on the bar stool. “I hadn’t seen Aidan in ten years or more, until I came upon him in that pub the other day. Do yeh know Cork?”

“Only the bus station.”

“What, yer chained to this place?”

“More or less,” Maura answered, but without resentment. “I’m not much of a sightseer. And I’ve got a business to run.”

Niall glanced around again, and Maura interrupted him before he could comment. “I know, it’s kind of a dump, but I can only do so much at once. I’m working on it.”

Niall smiled. “I was going to say, there are a lot of good memories here, soaked into these old walls. You’d do well to tap into that if yeh can. You’ve a good start, with this weekend.”

“Yeah, except for Aidan.”

“There is that,” Niall conceded. “But I’d be surprised if that kept people away, if you play yer cards right.”

“How so?” Maura asked.

“A fair number of people remember the music here. Old Billy recalls it all. Mick there was a starry-eyed kid, and that’s another piece of the picture. You can use that. You could make it work. If yeh want.”

“Would you come back? To play, I mean?” Maura challenged him.

“I might do. We’ll see.”

And then another group came over and drew Niall away.

Maura didn’t have the heart to throw people out until past closing time, but she hoped the gardaí would look the other way once again, considering the circumstances. Still, it startled her to see Sean Murphy outside her door when she finally shooed a few stragglers away. She hadn’t even seen him leave, or seen his sergeant arrive. “Coming to cite me for keeping late hours, Sean?” she asked, smiling.

“I’m off duty, at least fer now.”

“Are you coming in?”

“I will. Actually, I was looking for that young lad over there.” Sean nodded toward Tim, sunk in misery in the corner. Even Rose had given up trying to cheer him up, and Maura had sent her home a few hours earlier. She had gone without protest.

“You haven’t talked with him yet?” Maura asked.

“I hadn’t the time earlier in the day. I heard he was staying at Ellen Keohane’s place, but when I stopped by there on my way here earlier she told me she hadn’t heard a sound from him all day. I wondered if he’d packed it in and gone back to Dublin, but his car was still there.”

“Rose went over and dragged him out of his room and over here this afternoon,” Maura told him, “but he’s been moping ever since. Which kind of surprised me, because he was so excited about the research possibilities on the music the last couple of days. But so far the only thing he’s researched tonight is the bottom of a glass.”

“Is he sober now, do you think?”

“Ask him. But if you’re off duty, shouldn’t you wait until tomorrow to talk to him?”

“Maybe yer right. It’s been a long day. Could yeh do me a pint?”

“Coming up.”

Mick emerged from the cellar stairs and greeted Sean, then turned to Maura. “We’ll be needing to reorder in the morning—we’re running low.”

“I’m not surprised. Can we get a fast delivery?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mick sat a couple of seats down from Sean at the bar. “Since yer already there, could yeh fix me a coffee?”

“Sure, why not? At least then I’ll feel useful.”

Mick ignored her dig. “Anythin’ new on Crowley’s death, Sean?”

Sean shot a quick glance at Tim in the corner. “Keep it down, will yeh?”

Mick followed Sean’s glance. “So yeh haven’t told . . . the whole story yet?”

Sean shook his head. “I want to see what people would say without it. But there’s too many people who don’t know enough. Sure, they were here. Sure, they saw Aidan play. Some of them saw the man leave as well, through the front door. None of them saw him come back in after.”

“Have you located any of Aidan’s relatives?”

“Not yet.”

Maura pushed the pint and the mug of coffee across the bar, then came around and sat on the other side of Sean. “You did talk to Billy?”

“Of course I did. The man knows everybody in the county. And his eyesight is as keen as it ever was. He saw nothing out of the ordinary here last night. He did see a lot of familiar faces from the past, but that gets us no nearer to the truth. And, yes, he told me who I should tell, from what’s left of the family, if I can locate them.”

“So now what?” asked Mick.

“We’ll be meeting at the station in the mornin’ to go over what we’ve got. You’ll go on about yer business.”

“Sounds like you need a computer program to sort this all out,” Maura said.

“Are yeh volunteerin’?”

She raised both her hands. “Not me! I don’t own a computer, and I don’t want one. I’m just saying that you’ve got a lot of information, and you need to see where it overlaps.”

“I’ll raise the point at the meeting tomorrow.” Sean drained his pint and stood up. “Thanks for the drink.” He slid a couple of euro coins across the bar. Maura wrestled with whether to slide them back, or whether a free drink might violate some garda rule she didn’t know about. “No doubt I’ll be seein’ yeh tomorrow,” he said.

When Sean had left, Maura and Mick were left alone—except for Tim, quiet as a mouse, sunk in gloom in the corner. “Hey, Tim, we’re closing now,” Maura called out to him.

He raised his head slowly to look at her, his eyes dim. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t notice. I’ll get out of yer way.” He stood up stiffly, but at least he appeared steady on his feet once he made it to upright. And he wasn’t driving, just walking across the empty Sunday street. Maura couldn’t recall serving him more than one or two pints since he’d come in, hours earlier, so he must be sober. “You okay, Tim?”

“Yeah, sure, fine.” His tone suggested anything but.

Mick looked at her with a question in his eyes. “You go ahead,” Maura told him. “I’ll close up.”

Mick didn’t argue. “See yeh tomorrow evening, then,” he said. “Unless of course yeh’d like me to open?”

Maura thought for a moment. “You know, I’d like it if you would. And you’ve still got last night’s take at home, right? I need to get that, plus today’s, to the bank in Skibbereen in the morning, so I’ll stop by here and get it from you. We can work out the rest of the hours tomorrow, okay?”

“No worries. I’ll be here early. Good night, Maura.”

He slipped out into the dark, leaving Maura and Tim alone in the half-dark pub. “Tim, what’s going on?” Maura said quietly.

“Nothing. Not. A. Thing,” he said firmly.

“I don’t believe you. On Friday and Saturday you were in here practically jumping up and down with excitement. Now you look like your dog died. But on the other hand, you could have left, gone back to Dublin. Why are you still here?”

“Why do yeh care?” Tim glared at her with bleary eyes.

Maura took a moment to think about that. “Because you showed up here and started something, and I’m grateful to you for that.”

“Yeah, and are yeh grateful for ending up with a body in the back?”

“And is that your fault?” Maura demanded.

Tim straightened his back and looked her in the eye. “How do yeh know it wasn’t my fault?”

Uh-oh.
“Did you talk to Aidan Crowley last night? Maybe get into some kind of argument?”

“No. Well, not exactly.”

It had been a very long day, and Maura was tired. “Tim, stop playing games. I don’t feel like guessing. Did something happen between you last night or not? Did you know him?”

Tim took a deep breath. “I only met him on the Friday, but I was wondering if he wasn’t mebbe my father.”

She hadn’t expected that. “I think you’re going to have to explain.” She debated about offering him something to drink, but settled for, “Will coffee help? Did you manage to eat earlier? I could probably scrounge up something.”

“Coffee’d be grand.”

Maura started two cups of coffee. She was pretty sure she’d need it as much as he did. When they were ready she presented him with one, then sat down next to him. “Okay, talk. What makes you think Aidan was your father?”

Tim sighed again, and Maura wanted to shake him to get the words out. It was late, she was tired, and if he had something to say, couldn’t he just spit it out? Finally he started speaking, sounding less like a college boy than he had before. “I was raised by me mother, in Dublin. She never mentioned me father. When I got old enough to wonder about him, she refused to say anything. Except she called him a bastard, and worse. Never told her family who he was either, and there wasn’t anybody else to ask. She had a sister she might have been close to then, but she lit out for Australia years ago, and I didn’t think she’d answer me mail or e-mail. Anyways, me ma got married a few years later, had me sisters, and refused to talk about it at all, even when I kept nagging. It was
my
father, wasn’t it? Didn’t I have a right to know? Finally I guess she thought she’d better say somethin’, if only to shut me up. She told me he was some guy she’d met, a musician, at an event she’d gone to with a girlfriend when she lived in Clonakilty, growin’ up. And that was all she’d say. She kind of hinted she might not have known his name, and that was her excuse for keepin’ her mouth shut—she was ashamed of that night.”

Tim swallowed some coffee and cleared his throat. “Not much to work with, eh? I did the math so I knew more or less when she’d have run into the man, then I looked up what bands were big then. I mean, big enough for her to make a special effort to go hear them a few towns over. But there were so many . . . Seems like every town spawned its own band or three, and they all kept movin’ around, and they’d swap players. And then there were the sidemen, who didn’t belong to any group but ended up playing for a lot of ’em.”

“Do you know the girlfriend?” Maura asked.