A Turn for the Bad (16 page)

Maura shook her head. “Nothing new. The gardaí have decided to shut down the search. Did you tell Harry?” Might as well get straight to the point.

“I did.”

Maura tried to read Gillian's expression. “And?”

Gillian closed the book. “He gaped like a fish, then he sputtered for a bit, then he said he needed time to think. No surprises.” Gillian smiled ruefully.

“Is that good or bad?” Maura asked cautiously.

Gillian shrugged. “Well, if you're asking, did he ask me to marry him or to move into the manor house or offer to support me and the little one or sweep me off my feet and declare he was the happiest man alive—none of those. He looked stunned.”

“Did that surprise you?” Irreverently, Maura wondered if no one had ever laid an unexpected pregnancy at Harry's feet before.

Gillian shook her head. “No, I can't say as it did. As you well know, I've known Harry most of my life. He's not a bad man, but neither is he sure in his mind of what he wants. Don't worry
yourself, Maura—I've known from the start that this was my problem to handle, and I will. I only wanted him to know.”

“Can I do anything to help?” Maura asked.

“Most times I'd say I can take care of everything myself, but this is kind of new to me. I thank you for offering, and I promise I'll ask if I need anything. My Lord, look at the time! I should be in my bed by now. Can we talk in the morning?”

“Sure. Oh, what about that house you were going to look at? In Corran, was it?”

“They're asking too much for it, which may be a problem I find everywhere I go.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, Gillian. Anyway, I'm opening the pub, but I'll be around for breakfast.”

“That's grand. See you then.” Gillian turned and went up the stairs, leaving Maura wondering if Gillian had been waiting for her to share what little she had learned from Harry. Maybe things would look different to Gillian come morning.

At breakfast the next day, Gillian looked worse than she had the night before, Maura thought. “You all right?”

“I didn't sleep well—too much on my mind.”

“No decisions yet? Sorry, it's none of my business,” Maura replied quickly.

“Sure and it's your business,” Gillian snapped back at her. “I'm camping out in your house, aren't I? I'm hanging about weeping on your shoulder and making everyone around me miserable, those few that're even talking to me.”

“Gillian,” Maura began, then stopped. She had no idea what lay behind Gillian's outburst. Hormones, maybe—she'd heard that during pregnancy they went haywire. The fact that Gillian's life was spiraling out of her control?
Maura could sympathize with that—she'd been there not long before. Out of either cowardice or wisdom she decided to say nothing and hope that Gillian's storm passed quickly. She laid a hand on the teapot: hot. She poured herself a cup of tea and found some brown bread, and settled herself at the table with her breakfast.

Five minutes later Gillian said quietly, “Sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. I understand, I think. You've lost control of your life. Been there, done that.”

That at least brought a smile from Gillian. “That you have, and look at you now.”

“Do you have a deadline for a decision?”

Gillian laid a hand on her gently rounded belly. “Only what this one sets, although I'm guessing I'll run out of money before that.”

“What do you want from Harry? Do you know?”

“Not really. I'm sure he'd be a grand father as long as nobody asked him to feed and diaper and clean the child. Maybe if it emerged at the age of five, ready to start a conversation, he could manage, but an infant? I can't see it.”

“He's never been asked to do much, has he? I don't mean by you, but in his life in general. He's good-looking, he's had enough money to get by, and not many responsibilities, although I'll give him points for looking after Eveline's affairs—from a distance. Maybe it's time he grew up. This might be his chance.”

“You mean he's a Peter Pan? Even if I agree with you, I can't make it happen to fit my schedule, and I don't want my baby to be a test case for him, in case he fails utterly.”

“You mean, you're thinking no dad is better than a bad dad?”
Or one who walks away when things get rough?

Gillian changed the subject. “Listen, are you going to the village soon?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because if I sit here alone I'll drive myself mad. It'd be better to be around people, where something's happening. Like at Sullivan's.”

“That makes sense. But how soon will you go public with your news? And with naming the father? You know people are going to wonder.”

“Soon enough, I imagine. As for the latter, I'll let Harry decide if he wants to be named. I can always say no more than it was some man in Dublin. People may think the worse of me for it, but I don't know that it matters.”

Maura wasn't so sure. If Gillian wanted to raise a child on her own around here, better they think the child was Harry's—he was one of their own, even though he spent most of his time in Dublin—than the result of some one night hookup. But now was not the time to bring that up: thinking about all this was still new to Gillian. “All right. So eat up and I'll grab a shower, and we can go into the village.”

Though they were ready to leave before ten, Maura realized she hadn't spent much time with Bridget in the past week, not like she usually did; in fact, she missed her. And Gillian hadn't seen her at all, although they weren't close. “Do you mind if we stop by and say hello to Bridget?”

“Does she know . . . ?” Gillian asked.

“Not from me, but people around here have sharp eyes, and they talk. Let's find out.”

Together Maura and Bridget hurried down the lane: from what little Maura had learned of the weather, it looked like there was a storm coming, and the wind was strong. At least
the small area in front of Bridget's door was sheltered by a towering hedgerow. Maura knocked firmly, to be heard over the wind. “Bridget? It's me and Gillian Callanan.”

They waited: Bridget was past eighty and didn't move very fast. After half a minute, Bridget opened the door. “Ah, good mornin'. Come in, come in, before yeh blow away.” She stood back and let Maura and Gillian pass, then shut the door behind them. Inside, the noise of the wind fell away. “Can I offer yeh some tea?”

“I don't know if we have time, Bridget,” Maura said. “I only stopped by because I realized I hadn't seen you for a few days. We're supposed to be opening at the pub soon. You've heard the search for John Tully is pretty much over?”

“I have, more's the pity. I suppose it's a bit late for hope. His poor wife! Please, sit fer a while, if you won't drink my tea. Maura, could you add some turf to the fire, please?”

“Sure. I'm getting pretty good at using the stuff.” Maura went over to the small fireplace and tossed some irregular chunks of peat at the low fire. “Billy likes to have the fire going at the pub, so I get to practice. Mick said I could burn it at my cottage, but I think I need a bit more than that.”

Satisfied with her efforts, Maura took a chair. She realized quickly that Bridget was watching Gillian with a curious half smile, and Maura had a good idea why. “You know, Bridget?”

Bridget turned to her. “I do.”

“Oh, hell,” Gillian burst out. “Sorry, Bridget, I didn't mean to swear. Everybody in the city is on social media all the time, but I thought I'd be safe with my secret here for a bit longer.”

“Ah, Gillian, I don't know what yer sayin' about this social
media stuff, but around here we keep our eyes and our ears open. Works just as well.”

“I suppose it does,” Gillian said. “Are you disappointed in me?”

“And why would I be that? Yer a grown woman and you can make up yer own mind. And there've been a good number of six-months babies around here, since time began. Am I right that Harry is the father? How're you fixed?”

“Yes to the first, and I don't know about the second. I'm working on that.”

“It'll all come right in the end,” Bridget said, untroubled. “Ask if you need our help, will yeh?”

“Of course, Bridget. I'm just beginning to understand that now's not the time to let my pride get in the way.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Maura said, “but we need to get to the pub. We'll be back again soon, Bridget, I promise.”

“I'll come on my own if Maura's busy. If you'll have me,” Gillian added.

“Of course I will,” Bridget said, smiling. “You might have to bribe me with some sweets, but yer always welcome here,” she told her.

“Thank you.” Gillian stood up, crossed to where Bridget sat, and gave her a quick hug. “See you soon.”

Once outside, as she and Gillian trudged back up the hill against the wind, Maura said, “See? That wasn't so bad. And if an eighty-something woman is okay with this, then how can anyone else complain?”

“All right, I'm making too much of the whole thing. So, what's going on today?”

“It's Saturday. We'll be busy by off-season standards, but
that's not exactly very busy. I'll find you something to do, okay? But you know I can't pay you.”

“That's fine, as long as it's not scrubbing something. I don't do that when I'm not pregnant. And I'm not exactly working for you, just helping out, right?”

“Deal.” It took them only a few minutes to reach Leap, where the wind was stronger since the village faced the harbor. Would that discourage her patrons? Probably not, Maura decided. Inside the pub it was warm and comfortable, and most of the people who came in regularly wouldn't mind going through a bit of wind and rain to get there. After she'd parked, she let Gillian and herself in the front and started turning on lights. First priority: light the fire, to take the chill off the room. Which meant cleaning out the ashes from the day before, a job she disliked. But she had no idea when Mick or Jimmy would show up, so it was her responsibility.

While she shoveled up the ashes, she heard the first round of rain slapping against the front windows. It was a good day to be inside. But when she heard a hard knocking at the door, she was surprised to see Sean Murphy. She hurried to the door to let him in.

“Sean, get in here before you drown. What brings you here? It's not about John Tully, is it?” she asked, suddenly anxious.

Sean entered quickly, shaking the rain off his coat. “No. You know the search has been cut back for now.”

“Yes, you told me, and I've told other people who've asked. They're not happy, as you can probably guess,” Maura said. “Oh, sorry, I'm being a lousy host. Can I get you some coffee?”

“That'd be grand. While it's brewin', can I have a word with yeh in the back?”

“Of course.” Maura looked at Gillian, then nodded toward the coffee machine; Gillian nodded back and went behind the bar to start Sean's coffee. Maura led Sean to the back room and shut the door behind him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No more than before. I'm in a difficult position here, Maura. There's things I can't say to yeh, as a garda. But there's things I'd rather you knew than not.”

“Oh, okay?” Maura had no clue what he was trying to say.

“It's true that the search for John Tully has been all but cut off, but that's not because all hope is lost—we'd like at least to find his body, so his wife can bury him. But it's the other thing that requires our attention.”

“I get that. So what do I need to know now?” Maura asked.

“I can tell you this: it's important, and it goes beyond our part of the world. It could be dangerous.”

“Sean, I grew up in a big city. I know plenty about crime and dangerous people.”
Probably more than you, garda Sean Murphy
. “What is it you think I'm supposed to do?”

“Just keep your eyes open for strangers who don't belong. Listen to what people are talking about. The people around here may know or see more than they let on.”

Like Mick?
“Sean, I listen to people anyway, not that I'm eavesdropping or anything like that, but it's hard not to overhear things, if you know what I mean. So it's the strangers you're worried about?”

“Odds are you won't see any, but could you let me know if you do?”

“Irish? Foreign? What are you looking for?”

“I . . . can't say. English, most likely, but could be from somewhere else.”

“Sean, I'm confused. You want me to help somehow, but you want me to spy on my neighbors? Try to get information out of them? I'm not good at stuff like that. And what's the point?”

Sean looked like he was wrestling with his own thoughts. “I'm sorry . . . Mebbe this isn't exactly garda business. Look, I want to see you safe. I know it's long odds that anything would happen here, but it has before. As long as it's a possibility, I want you to keep your eyes open and take care of yourself.”

“Okay,” Maura said dubiously. It was becoming clear to her that Sean was trying to protect her, which was sweet of him, but for the sake of his job he couldn't say too much, which made his warning next to useless. She was supposed to watch out for anything and everything. “I'll be careful, I promise. And I'll call you if I see or hear anything odd.”

Relieved of his burden, now he looked more at ease. “That's all I came to say.”

“Good. Want your coffee now?”

“Oh, right, I'd all but forgotten that. I've got to get into town—sorry fer wastin' it.”

“Don't worry—one of us here will drink it. Thanks for stopping by.” Maura opened the door to the main room and led him out.

“Ta, Maura. Gillian, good to see yeh here.” Sean wrapped his coat around him and went out into the rain, which seemed to be falling harder than before.

“And what was that all about?” Gillian demanded. “You want the coffee?”

“Sure, I'll take it. As for your question, well, I think he's worried about me. We had some trouble a while back, while you were in Dublin—a man died here and some drug thug from Cork broke in and threatened me.” Maura took the coffee that Gillian had pushed across the bar and added sugar.

“And I'd heard nothing of this? What happened?”

“Mick and Billy took him down and we called the gardaí to collect him. But I think that's what Sean's worried about.”

“He's a very honest lad, that one, and it's clear he's sweet on you. Surely you've noticed?” Gillian said.

Maura had pretty much worked that out for herself. Still, it sounded odd coming from someone else. “Yeah, but I'm not encouraging him, not right now. But apart from telling me to be careful, he asked me to keep an eye out for strangers. There've been so many people coming and going lately, with the search going on, that I haven't recognized half the people in here. I have to wonder what he's looking for.”