Carla Neggers (13 page)

“Or Father Bracken–unapproved.” Emma set the kettle back on the counter and put the lid on the teapot. “Colin will want to join us for the whiskey. He won’t mind missing the tea.”

“The Donovans are a hardheaded bunch. The Maroneys are bad, but Mike, Colin, Kevin, Andy—they’re off the charts. They know how to get things done, though. I guess that’s why I texted Colin. I knew he’d figure out what to do.” Julianne yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “My poor body doesn’t know what time it is.”

“The adrenaline dump this morning won’t help. Toast and cheese with your tea?”

“That sounds great.”

“I’ll make it. Have a seat and enjoy the view. If you remember anything else about Lindsey, let me know and I’ll call the gardai.”

“I have the card of the one who interviewed me.”

And her neighbor was one, too, Emma thought as she poured tea for the two of them.

Julianne took hers and sat at the table, slumping, her energy understandably coming in bursts. She stared out the window. “The gardai will notify Lindsey’s father?”

“Yes. He’s in Declan’s Cross, at the O’Byrne. They’ll also want to talk to him. He and Lindsey spent the weekend together in Dublin. He could have insights into her emotional state, whether she was on medication. That sort of thing.”

“I wonder if he’ll know what she was doing out there. I understand it rained here most of Monday. It would have been wet. People forget how slippery rock can get when it’s wet.” Julianne drank some of her tea. “Do you think she was murdered, Emma?”

Emma put two pieces of white bread into the toaster. “I don’t know what happened to her, Julianne. If her injuries are consistent with a fall, that still won’t explain why she was out there. We might never know.”

“Will this be a problem for you and Colin?”

“For us?”

“With your superiors. You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“It won’t be a problem for us,” Emma said.

Julianne said nothing. Emma laid slices of local Irish cheese on a plate. The toast popped, and she got it onto the plate and buttered it. She wasn’t hungry herself. She and Colin had indulged in a massive breakfast at the hotel before he’d received Julianne’s text. He’d instantly gone into action. That was Colin Donovan. It was what people counted on him to do. His family, his friends, the FBI. Her.

She brought the toast and cheese to Julianne. “Thanks, Emma,” she said, her eyes misting even as she attempted a smile.

Emma grabbed her tea and sat at the table. “Today was a lot for you. Try not to be too hard on yourself if your emotions are all over the place. It’s normal.”

“Lindsey didn’t meet me in Shannon because she was already dead.” Julianne lifted her toast, stared at it as if she couldn’t imagine eating, then took a nibble. “She was so enthusiastic about the field station. No one seemed that concerned when she didn’t show up yesterday. If I’d had any clue...”

“You didn’t, Julianne. None of us did, and if we had, all we could have done was find her sooner. Lindsey was dead before you, Colin or I arrived in Declan’s Cross.”

Julianne nodded and set her toast back on the plate. “I have to admit I’d hate to be here alone right now. If nothing else, having Colin out there gave me someone to snap at instead of the Irish police. It’d be awful if I had to call Granny for bail money.”

She was only half kidding, Emma realized.

“Sean Murphy really is with the Irish police?”

Emma nodded. “I don’t have any details about his role with the gardai.”

“I had no idea. I thought he was a farmer. No wonder Father Bracken trusts him.”

“Julianne...” Emma hesitated. She’d been debating whether to bring up the O’Byrne theft. She’d started to on the walk back to the cottage, but had decided to wait. She drank more tea, aware of Julianne’s frown, then finally continued. “Did Lindsey or Father Bracken—or anyone else—mention an art theft here in Declan’s Cross ten years ago?”

Julianne frowned. “No. What art theft?”

“The hotel where Colin and I are staying was broken into. It was a private home then. A thief stole three Irish landscape paintings and a very old Celtic cross.”

“Did your family investigate?”

“After the fact. It’s a little complicated.”

Julianne placed a slice of cheese on her toast. “And the theft—it hasn’t been solved, right?”

“That’s right.” Emma set her mug on the table. Outside, mist hung low over the sea, even as sunlight shone on the lush lawn. She added, “The theft isn’t a secret.”

“This trip is so last-minute—I didn’t do much research on Declan’s Cross. Just looked up a few pictures and a map on the internet. I was focused on the field station. Marine science. Maybe I wouldn’t be here if Lindsey hadn’t been a Hargreaves, but I liked her. Anyway, she didn’t mention the theft, and neither did Father Bracken.” Julianne raised her toast and cheese to her mouth but didn’t take a bite. “That’s why you and Colin are here, isn’t it?”

“Julianne—”

“All these alarm bells went off when you found out I was staying in Declan’s Cross.”

“I wouldn’t say alarm bells. I would say...” What would she say? Emma sighed. “I wanted to be sure it was an innocent coincidence that you ended up in Declan’s Cross.”

“And that Lindsey chose it for her field station,” Julianne added.

“Yes.”

“So if I’d picked a different Irish village, you’d have left me to my own devices?”

“Colin and I still would have wanted to welcome you to Ireland,” Emma said quietly. “At the same time, we understand your reasons for being here. We didn’t, and don’t, want to intrude. Colin had no idea Declan’s Cross meant anything until he saw my reaction when he told me it’s where you were headed.”

Julianne sank back in her chair. “You two must have the most interesting conversations. I’ll bet you only scratched the surface these past couple weeks of what all you don’t know about each other. Are there things that have to stay secret? FBI things, I mean.”

“Some.”

“That must kill Colin. He and his brothers like to know everything. I think that was part of my problem with Andy. He knew everything about me before I weakened and went on that first date with him. No mystery, you know?” She cleared her throat, obviously fighting fatigue and a rush of emotions. “I’m glad you’re here, Emma.”

“I’ll do anything I can to help you get through this.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate that.” She ate some of her toast and cheese, then added, “And it’s not a problem having Colin here. I’m used to Donovans. I was just dumb to get involved with Andy. I thought Rock Point would be enough for us to have in common.”

“It’s a lot,” Emma said.

“Maybe.” Julianne fingered her second piece of toast but didn’t pick it up. “You and Colin don’t have much in common except the FBI. Rock Point and Heron’s Cove are next to each other on the map but that’s about it. I’m not sure exactly what he does with the FBI, but it’s not art crimes.”

Emma looked out at a bird swooping low toward the sea cliffs. A gull, maybe. It was too far away for her to know for certain. Finally she said, “What Colin and I have in common and what’s different about us work well together. At least I think so.”

“He must, too, or he wouldn’t be staying at a boutique spa hotel with you. I can’t imagine Andy—” She broke off and stood abruptly, almost tipping over her chair. “The two of us in a spa hotel is definitely not what I need to be thinking right now.”

“When you’re ready, I can help you gather your things,” Emma said. “We can take your car to the hotel. Colin and I are extending our stay, and I made a reservation for you while you were talking to the gardai. We should have a better idea of what’s going on after you get settled. I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay out here alone, at least tonight.”

“Not that it would matter if I did because Colin wouldn’t stand for it.”

Emma smiled. “Probably not.”

“I don’t need him camping out on my doorstep—it’s not as if I’m in any danger up here. I can’t believe anyone would deliberately hurt Lindsey.” Julianne went still, as if a thought—an image—had overcome her. She shut her eyes and breathed deeply, then looked out at the choppy sea and mist. “I keep seeing her foot. I knew she was dead. I’d hoped I’d find her stuck out there with a broken ankle and no cell phone. It just didn’t work out that way.”

“I’m really sorry, Julianne,” Emma said, rising. “All we can do now is trust that the gardai will get answers. They’ll do a thorough job. I’ve no doubt of that.”

Julianne stepped back from the window and glanced around the comfortable living room and kitchen. “I know this trip was impulsive, but I thought it would be fun. A start at reinventing myself. No one here would know me. I could talk marine mammals with people as interested in them as I am, and get the lay of the land, so to speak, ahead of my internship. But it’s selfish to think about myself when Lindsey is lying out there on the rocks.”

“I know it’s difficult.” Emma gathered up the plates and mugs. “I’ll do the dishes while you get your things together. Just pack enough for tonight. We can come back tomorrow.”

Julianne shuddered. “I’ll never doubt Granny about her dark fairies again.”

* * *

Emma stayed with Julianne until she was checked into her room at the O’Byrne House Hotel. Clearly exhausted, she said she wanted to rest a bit and would meet Emma at the bar. “If I’m not there by four, come pound on my door.”

In her own way, Emma thought, Julianne Maroney was as tough as any Donovan.

She debated slipping into her room to rest, too, but instead went downstairs and out to the terrace. The sun was still doing its dance with the clouds, but she sat at one of the tables out in the open and called Matt Yankowski in Boston.

“How’s Ireland?” Yank asked.

“I’m looking at the Celtic Sea and pink roses. Can you believe there are still a few roses in bloom here in November?”

“You didn’t call to tell me about roses. What’s wrong?”

Emma noticed a pot of cyclamen and ivy close to her. “Colin and I are in the middle of a death investigation in Declan’s Cross.”

“Talk to me.”

She filled him in. Yank didn’t interrupt. When she finished, she leaned over and touched a scarlet cyclamen petal and said, “Julianne’s here at the hotel, in the room next to mine.” She didn’t say Colin’s and hers. She didn’t know why. “She’s a wreck but she’ll rally. She’s strong, smart, stubborn.”

“All those good Rock Point qualities,” Yank said.

“Spirited, too.”

Yank sucked in a breath. “The dead woman. Lindsey Hargreaves. Did she fall, Emma?”

She took in the quiet November landscape with its mix of colors—green, gold, copper, pinks and purples. Down the sloping garden lawn, more pale pink cyclamen were massed, naturalized, under an oak. She thought of Lindsey Hargreaves sprawled on the rocks, practically in the shadow of the trio of Celtic crosses, and shook her head as if Yank were sitting across the table from her. “No, Yank. Lindsey Hargreaves didn’t fall.”

“What can I do?”

“Find out more about the Hargreaves family.”

“Done.”

She clicked off her phone and slid it into the pocket of her leather jacket. She wondered if the gardai had located David Hargreaves yet and notified him about his daughter. If Kitty O’Byrne and her son knew of the tragedy up on Shepherd Head. Kitty hadn’t been at the reception desk when Julianne had checked in.

And Brent Corwin and Eamon Carrick. What about them?

Emma’s grandfather had returned her call last night. Nothing new on their Declan’s Cross thief. Not in months. Wendell Sharpe was inclined to attribute Julianne Maroney’s trip to the pretty village to a tangled set of coincidences.

What would he say now that Lindsey was dead?

Emma decided to tell her brother first. Lucas was back in Heron’s Cove, where he ran Sharpe Fine Art Recovery, after an intense brain-dump with their grandfather in Dublin in October. Now that he was turning over the reins to Lucas, he’d felt compelled to tell him secrets and insights that weren’t in the files. Emma agreed with her brother that their grandfather had undoubtedly left out a few secrets. Probably more than a few.

After their consultation, he had set out to the southwest Irish coast for his “walkabout.” Emma had been terrified he was sick, but he’d looked as healthy and lively as ever when she’d seen him right after she’d arrived in Ireland, before making her way to Finian Bracken’s cottage and Colin.

Lucas was appropriately shocked when Emma told him about Lindsey Hargreaves. “I haven’t told Granddad yet,” she added. “He’s still in Killarney, but he plans to return to Dublin soon.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. He says he wants to be in Heron’s Cove for Thanksgiving.”

“He can only go so long without your apple pie,” Lucas said, but she could hear the strain in his voice. “It’s just...”

Emma finished for him. “It’s just that we’re worried about him. He’s been telling us he wants to spend more time in Heron’s Cove now that he’s cut back on work, but I don’t know.”

“I think it’s a tougher transition than he expected.” Lucas bit off a sigh. “I’m sorry to hear about this woman, Emma. What can I do to help?”

“Find out if she was in Rock Point because of us.”

“‘Us’ meaning—”

“The Sharpes,” Emma said.

“All right. Understood.”

“Anything unusual, Lucas—any hint that our thief followed Lindsey to Rock Point, or that he’s in Maine, that he’s been watching you—that he’s been watching Granddad—”

“I hear you.”

They talked for another minute, and when Emma disconnected, she settled back in her chair. She felt the cool breeze on her face and listened to the sound of distant birds as she let her mind drift back not quite ten years. She’d come to Dublin to visit her grandfather. It had been springtime—her school vacation. She’d wanted to talk to him about college choices and majoring in art history. She’d planned to work at Sharpe Fine Art Recovery. Only later did that change.

Her grandfather—tall, rangy like Lucas—had been preoccupied.
“I have a thief I can’t catch, Emma,”
he’d finally told her over tea in his back garden.
“He’s going to strike again.
There’s no question in my mind.”