Love and Shamrocks: Ballybeg, Book 5

LOVE AND SHAMROCKS

A BALLYBEG ROMANCE (BOOK 5)

ZARA KEANE

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Trouble in Dublin, True Love in Ballybeg

Clio Havelin needs a lucky break. Desperate to protect her child, Clio accepts her estranged mother’s offer of a refuge in Ballybeg. What can go wrong in a place with more cows than people? Her hope for a fresh start is smashed to smithereens when she’s blackmailed into facilitating the heist of the decade. So the last thing Clio needs is a sexy cop underfoot, especially when she’s one crime away from freedom. Too bad she’s already slept with him.

Seán Mackey wants his life back. The former police detective is now stuck apprehending errant sheep in Ballybeg — population 3968, pubs 35. After months of frustration, he’s finally on the scent of a real case. When he’s sidelined into playing bodyguard for his nemesis, talk show hostess Helen Havelin, he’s pissed. And when his gorgeous one-night stand turns out to be Helen’s daughter, Clio, pissed turns to horrified.

Love and Shenanigans (Ballybeg #1)

Love and Blarney (Ballybeg #2)

Love and Leprechauns (Ballybeg #3)

Love and Mistletoe (Ballybeg #4)

Love and Shamrocks (Ballybeg #5)

Her Treasure Hunter Ex (Ballybeg Bad Boys #1)
July 2015

The Rock Star Next Door (Ballybeg Bad Boys #2)
Fall 2015

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For April. Thank you for all your support over the years.

Certain Gaelic terms appear in this book. I have tried to use them sparingly and in contexts that should make their meaning clear to international readers. However, a couple of words require clarification.

The official name for the Irish police force is
An Garda Síochána
(“the Guardian of the Peace”). Police are
Gardaí
(plural) and
Garda
(singular). They are commonly referred to as “the Guards”. I’ve kept the use of these terms to a minimum but I do use them in reference to Garda Brian Glenn’s rank and when naming the local police station (Ballybeg Garda Station).

The Irish police do not, as a rule, carry firearms. Permission to carry a gun is reserved to specialist units, such as the Emergency Response Unit. The police in Ballybeg would not have been issued with firearms, hence there are no references to holsters, guns, or shooting ranges.

While I have used American spelling conventions in this book, I haven't changed the spelling of
Traveller
or
Travellers
.

A halting site
is a facility constructed and maintained by local authorities for Travellers to park their caravans on. Halting sites are controversial among the settled community.

Dublin, Ireland

FOR THE FIRST time since completing her twelve-step program, Clio Havelin regretted rehab. If she’d been high, she could have ascribed the entire situation to a drug-induced hallucination. Not having so much as a drop of caffeine in her bloodstream, she didn’t have that luxury. This was happening. This was real. And the reality of being in a tiny police interview room listening to pat reassurances made her blood boil.

Clio pushed back her chair from the cheap plastic table and struggled to breathe. “What do you mean you’re not pursuing the investigation further? How can you
not
?”

The fleshy police inspector seated opposite exchanged a significant glance with his younger female colleague. The blond woman adopted what Clio assumed was her standard expression of bland sympathy and leaned forward in a confiding manner. “We’ve done everything we can do, as has the school. Without Tammy’s cooperation, the case won’t stand up in court. There’s no physical evidence and no eyewitnesses. In short, there’s absolutely nothing to support your claim that Mr. O’Leary engaged in improper relations with your daughter.”

“Improper relations?” Clio’s nails dug into her palms. “Call a spade a spade. Trevor O’Leary had
sex
with his fourteen-year-old pupil. How can you sit here and tell me you’re not going to charge him? What about the other girls he’s done this to? What about the girls he
will
do this to if you don’t stop him?” An icy trickle of fear made the hair on her nape stand to attention. “If you don’t charge him, the school will have to lift his suspension. He’ll be back teaching impressionable teenagers.”

The blonde’s practiced calm faltered, and she exchanged an uncertain glance with her superior officer.

Inspector Fahey loosened his tie and cleared his throat. “I understand your dismay, Ms. Havelin,” he said. “We take allegations of abuse of minors seriously, believe me, but the only evidence we had to present to the judge was your statement. No one else has come forward to make allegations against Mr. O’Leary. And as we’ve already clarified, even your own daughter refuses to make a statement to support your claim.”

“But you believe me.” She looked from one to the other. “I can see it in your faces. You know what I’m saying is true.”

“It doesn’t matter what we believe.” The inspector gave a weary sigh. “It doesn’t even matter what the judge believes. The prosecution can’t build a case without something to create sufficient probable cause at the very least. O’Leary denies everything, and Tammy says you’re lying.” He shoved his chair back and stood, his junior officer following his lead. “If your daughter changes her mind about making a statement, give us a call.”

The recycled air in the interview room tickled the back of Clio’s throat, bringing forth an asthmatic cough. The nagging suspicion that had plagued her since the start of this disastrous interview came to the fore. “Is this because I have a criminal record?”

The man hesitated in the doorway. “It certainly didn’t help me sell your story to the higher-ups, that’s for sure.”

She swore beneath her breath. No matter how many years had passed since her trial, no matter how many honest jobs she’d held since, she’d always be a convicted thief and drug addict in the eyes of the law. Meanwhile, Trevor O’Leary was considered a respectable music teacher without so much as a speeding ticket to besmirch his good name.
Bastard.
Clio’s hands balled into fists. She itched to punch the fecker’s smug face and to kick him where it truly hurt.

“Your friend is waiting outside,” Fahey said, holding the door ajar.

Still reeling, Clio got to her feet and followed the police officers out to the lobby.

Both the police sergeant and his junior colleague proffered hands. Clio shook them with barely concealed distaste.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be more help,” the woman said with genuine regret. “If anything else crops up, give us a call.”

Clio gave a stiff nod and shoved open the door of Rathmines Garda Station. Outside, Emma was leaning against a metal railing, tapping a restless foot against the pavement. Today’s ensemble screamed New Age hippy, complete with a tie-dyed hair band that did little to control her wild blond curls. Emma straightened the instant she spotted Clio. “Oh, no,” she said, searching her face. “It didn’t go well.”

“No, it did not.” Clio wound her scarf around her neck and marched down Rathgar Road at speed, forcing her friend to scramble to keep up with her furious pace. “They’re going to let the bastard get away with sexually exploiting a minor. He’s even going to get his job back.”

“Clio.” Emma panted. “Slow down and talk to me. I know you’re upset—”

“Upset doesn’t even begin to cover it.” The pulse at the base of Clio’s throat throbbed.

“—but you shouldn’t do anything rash.”

Their eyes locked. Emma had known Clio since the bad old days, back when Emma’s family had fostered Tammy for a couple of years before Clio got clean. Insofar as it was possible to know everything about another person, Emma knew everything there was to know about her, and vice versa.

“I’m not letting O’Leary get away with this. He’s thirty years old, for goodness sake. What sort of a sick bastard takes advantage of a fourteen-year-old?” Hot tears stung Clio’s eyes. She brushed them away with the back of one hand while flipping out her phone with the other. “Tammy is still in touch with him, and I don’t trust her not to meet him, even if she changes schools.”

Emma sighed. “She thinks she’s in love with him.”

“Even worse.” Clio gave a bitter laugh. “She thinks
he’s
in love with
her
.”

They came to a halt outside the redbrick Edwardian house where she and her daughter shared the top-floor apartment.

Emma toyed with a stray pebble on the pavement. “Maybe you should consider taking your mother up on her offer.”

“What?” Clio’s jaw dropped. “You’re advising me to drag Tammy to a spit-and-you-miss-it little town in Cork? And move in with
my mother
? What about the agency?”

Her friend grimaced. “Reilly Investigations isn’t inundated with business at the moment. I’d cope on my own. A fresh start might be exactly what you and Tammy need.”

“Moving back to Dublin from Barcelona was supposed to be our fresh start.”
What a mess that’s turned out to be.

Emma tossed her windblown hair over her shoulder. “Think it over. It would put over three hundred kilometers between O’Leary and Tammy. Much harder for them to meet. After all that’s happened, a new environment and a new school might be what she needs.”

Clio squeezed her eyes shut for an instant and shook her head. “The sticking point is my mother. We’ve taken tentative steps toward a reconciliation, but living together is a whole other level.”

“Only on weekends, right? You said she’d be away filming her show Monday through Friday.”

“Yeah…”

“In other words, you’d be living in the house on your own with Tammy five out of seven days.” Her friend’s blue eyes burned with earnest conviction. “I don’t think that’s a bad deal. Helen can be a pain, but she’s not a monster. If she’s willing to pay the fees for Tammy to attend a private school, they’re likely to provide extra tuition to help her catch up on the work she’s missed over the past couple of months. She has the Junior Certificate coming up in June, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she does.” If Tammy didn’t get good grades in the first set of state exams, her options for the final three years of secondary school would narrow. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’d have to be seriously desperate to move into my mother’s house, even if she’d only be there for part of the week.”

“Just consider it, okay?”

“I promise I’ll talk it over with Tammy,” she said with reluctance, “but I don’t think she’s any more keen to live with Helen than I am.”

Emma’s phone beeped an insistent reminder. “Two o’clock already? I’d better get moving.”

Clio nodded toward her friend’s cell phone screen. “The O’Brien case?”

“Yeah. Fortunately for their marriage, but unfortunately for our bottom line, I don’t think Gerry O’Brien is cheating on his wife. This case is likely to wrap up quickly. Until I can confirm my gut feeling, though, I’m supposed to trail the husband. He’s due to meet friends at the organic market in Temple Bar.” Emma tugged at the tie-dyed headband. “Hence the outfit.”