The Celtic Riddle (21 page)

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Authors: Lyn Hamilton

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Detectives, #Women Sleuths, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Mystery Fiction, #Treasure Troves, #Political, #Ireland, #Antiquities, #Celtic Antiquities, #Antique Dealers, #Women Detectives - Ireland, #McClintoch; Lara (Fictitious Character), #Archaeology, #Antiquities - Collection and Preservation

BOOK: The Celtic Riddle
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"Great!" she said happily. "Now tell me what's happening over there."

So I told her, about the family, the Will, about Second Chance and
its gardens, the treasure hunt, and finally, the murders.

"Am I understanding this right?" Moira asked. "It's the servants
that are getting offed, not the family members? Isn't this a bit odd?"

"It is," I agreed.

"Did the servants have clues?"

"Michael Davis did. John Herlihy didn't. Neither did Deirdre Flood,
though she's still among the living."

"Why give it to only one of them? Was Michael the only non-family
member that got a clue?"

"Paddy Gilhooly, also a non-family member, got one. His connection
with the family, at least the only one I've come across, is that he
dated Breeta Byrne, the youngest daughter, and that the family objected
and Breeta left home. She's not dating him anymore. Deirdre was a
relatively recent arrival in the household, less than five years, she
said, so it would make sense she wouldn't get one. It's a bit
surprising about Herlihy, though, because I got the impression he'd
been with the family forever. Michael had been there for a while, but
not much longer than Deirdre. I'd have expected that Heriihy would have
got one, although he got a sizable amount of money from the Will.
Deirdre got some too, although not as much. Michael got something
somewhere in between, if I remember correctly, plus some extra money if
he went back to school. Which he won't be doing," I added sadly.

"Are you sure this is about the treasure, then?" Moira asked. "I
mean, if Heriihy didn't get a clue, maybe it's about something entirely
different."

"That's a good question," I replied. "But it's the only thing I can
think of. This treasure, if it exists, is supposed to be worth
something. And what else could it be?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Don't they say the motive is almost
always money or passion? The treasure is the only money angle, I
suppose."

"Well, the money that John and Michael got reverts to the family,
according to their solicitor, but I can't imagine it's enough to kill
for."

"So what about the passion motive? A family secret or something. A
horrible secret from Byrne's past. Am I overdoing this, do you think?"
she laughed. "All right then, a grudge of some sort. A former gardener,
say, a psycho, who was fired by Heriihy for killing the orchids and who
got back at Heriihy and his replacement. A little farfetched, I admit.
But what about this Gil-hooly fellow? Maybe he thought he was going to
marry a fortune, and then was disappointed. But then," she said,
answering her own question, "he wouldn't kill the staff for that, now
would he? It's a mystery, all right."

"It is," I agreed. "There are hints, from time to time, of something
in Byrne's past, but it must have been a very long time ago, if at all,
because he's been here for at least thirty years, and no one around
here seems to know anything specific. But I have another problem I
could use your advice on, Moira, since you mention Gilhooly," I added,
then told her about Jennifer's escapades.

"Aieee!" she exclaimed. "Thirty-five or -six? This is bad. I think
you had better tell Rob," she said after a minute's contemplation. "If
you leave it too long, he'll think you're a party to this whole thing,
that you've been hiding it from him, or worse, maybe even helping them
get together. I'd give Jennifer about five minutes more to tell him, if
I were you, and then, if she doesn't, you do it!"

"You're right, as usual, Moira," I said. "I've been intending to do
it. It's just that Rob has a new friend, a police officer by the name
of Maeve Minogue. I think it's serious, and he isn't spending much time
with Jennifer and me."

"What!" Moira exclaimed. "Are you telling me Rob has a girlfriend
over there?"

"Yes," I said.

"Oh," Moira said. I could hear disappointment in her voice.

"Moira!" I said. I knew what that tone meant.

"I know," she said. "I sort of had him in mind for you. He's kind of
cute, isn't he? Steady job. Steady kind of guy, in fact. I thought he'd
be good for you. And you for him," she added loyally. "He can be a bit
of a tight ass, and you'd lighten him up. I thought you two would be
perfect together, in fact."

I laughed. Moira is always trying to fix me up with somebody. What
are your women friends for, I suppose.

"Don't laugh. What about Jennifer? You like her, too, don't you?
Don't you think they make a nice package deal?"

"I like Jennifer very much. In fact, I'm surprised how much I'm
enjoying her company, and Rob's a lovely guy," I said. "But he and I
would drive each other crazy. Do drive each other crazy, and we're just
friends. I'd give up on him if I were you."

"We'll see," she replied, in a tone I'd come to recognize as only a
temporary retreat. "In the meantime, be careful. Don't go near that
awful family."

"Okay," I replied, and I meant it. I'd made up my mind to give up on
this treasure thing, at least for a while, and get back to business.
Nobody had died in a while, after all, and there had been no more
threatening incidents. Maybe Moira was right, and it was about
something else entirely. "I'm going to have a look around for some
antiques while I'm here. I might as well do something useful until they
let us go home, which I sincerely hope will be soon."

"Good," she said. "Let us know when you're flying back. We'll pick
you up at the airport."

"Thanks," I said, but knew I wouldn't. Being picked up at the
airport by Clive was more than I could manage, friendship with Moira
notwithstanding, but I knew I'd have to try harder. "Tell Clive how
much I appreciate what he's doing for Sarah and the store, and that I
can't wait to hear his idea for the promotion," I said, gritting my
teeth.

"I will," she said, sounding pleased.

When I'd hung up, I resolutely turned to execute my decision to tend
to business right away. I called my shipper in Toronto, Dave Thomson,
and asked for names of contacts I could use to send stuff home if I
found anything. Then I called my bank and had them fax a letter of
introduction to the Inn. Next, I made enquiries of the proprietors
about places to look for furniture of the antique variety, old houses
up for sale and so on, and armed with a couple of leads, headed out in
the car to see what I could find. I spent a pleasant enough afternoon
and was rewarded with a couple of great purchases a terrific dining
room suite, early 1800s, and a beautiful silver tea service that I was
so in love with, I thought I might keep for myself if it didn't sell
soon after I put it out for sale, within minutes, say. After making
arrangements to have them picked up and taken to a shipper in
Waterford, I went back to the Inn feeling altogether pleased with
myself, promising myself a nice glass of wine as a reward, and to do
the same thing again the next day.

My intentions were good, but my actions were thwarted.

I may have wanted to give up on the treasure hunt and go back to my
shopkeeping, but there was renewed enthusiasm for the quest in other
quarters, as I learned the minute I got back to the Inn. Gilhooly had
been good as his word, and had gone off to find the clue that went with
salmon in a pool. Translated from ogham, it said simply Axis Mundi,
presumably the center point around which the world turned. Very
helpful, I'm sure, but Gilhooly and Jennifer were fired with enthusiasm
for finding the rest of the clues, and had enlisted the support of
Malachy and Kevin to do so. It was quite clear by this point that we
didn't need the rest of the family's clues: we just had to find the
clues that went with the lines of Amairgen's song and decipher the
ogham. By the end of that one day, while I was out antiquing, the
intrepid foursome, who must have been a sight, the two old guys, the
blond Canadian in her pink and purple Take No Prisoners jacket, and the
local sailor, twice her age, had found not only Axis Mundi, but the
clue that went with a flame of valor. The clues now looked like this.

 

AMAIRGEN'S SONG

I am the sea-swell

The furious wave

The roar of the sea

A stag of seven slaughters

A hawk above the cliff

A ray of the sun

The beauty of a plant

A boar enraged

A salmon in a pool

A lake in a plain

A flame of valor

OGHAM CLUES

May's sunrise by Tailte's Hill is seen

A curse be on these stones.

Leinster's Hag to Eriu's Seat

---------

Aine's Mount to Macha's Stronghold

--------

Raise a cup to the stone

Ahnu's white to Maeve's red

Axis Mundi

---------

All seen and seeing eye of fire.

 

It was still all rather baffling, and the clues were not my only
source of bewilderment. Strangely enough, Deirdre had come back and
asked for her old position at Second Chance, only a few days after I'd
seen her in Dublin. According to the gossip in the bar, Margaret Byrne
had leapt at the opportunity to take her back, there being no one else
in town who would stoop so low. Townspeople said Deirdre hadn't liked
Dublin, noisy and dirty as it was, and the pay was poor, even worse
than the notorious Margaret was prepared to shell out, and some said
Margaret couldn't afford to pay Deirdre what she'd been paid before, a
rumor I sincerely hoped wasn't true. I did know that I had had the
unfortunate experience of overhearing a shopkeeper tell Eithne that she
could be extended no more credit until the outstanding bill was paid,
an encounter that brought cheeks pink with embarrassment to both of us.
I could understand that Deirdre might prefer the lovely Dingle to
Dublin, but I was surprised, nonetheless. I'd thought Deirdre would
never even consider returning to these parts, so terrified she had been
by the murders of her colleagues.

I'd have liked to ask her about it, but she wasn't talking. At least
she wasn't talking to me, but she was in good company in that regard,
joining a small but growing group of people who regarded me as the
local version of Typhoid Mary. When I saw her the next day on the
street in town, doing some shopping, like Breeta, Deirdre hurriedly
crossed the street when she saw me coming toward her. I waved, but she
gave me her frightened rabbit look and disappeared quickly into a
laneway. By the time I got over to where I'd seen her disappear, she
was gone, lost in the maze of tiny streets. I supposed it was my
surprise appearance at McCafferty and McGlynn that had made her so
afraid of me, but I would have thought that, weighed against the
happenings at Second Chance, on balance, I would be seen to be the
lesser of two evils. Apparently not.

If Deirdre had nothing to say to me, however, she had plenty to tell
the gardai.

Chapter Eleven

A FLAME OF VALOR

WHAT Deirdre had to say to the gardai put Conail O'Connor in jail.
Or rather, to be more precise, Conail's reaction to what Deirdre had to
say got him in trouble. Conail, hot-headed at the best of times, I'd
warrant, was brought to the brink by his split with Fionuala and the
constant ribbing he was subjected to, some of it friendly, some of it
not, on the subject of his little encounter with Alex. His being hauled
in for questioning had resulted in a physical altercation in the garda
station that left one police officer with a bloody nose and Conail in
handcuffs.

Conail was being led off to a cell, as I went into the station to
talk to Rob.

"Piss off, will you?" he said as an officer took his arm. "I was
looking for my wife," he bellowed over his shoulder as he was taken
away. "I know she was there. Flirting with every man she came across.
Somebody will have seen me."

"Seen him where?" I asked Rob as he led me to his little corner of
the station. They'd given him a desk in the middle of a busy room,
opposite an engaging young officer who gallantly gave up his chair and
went searching for another when Rob and I arrived.

"Town," Rob replied. "Deirdre has told us this morning that she saw
Conail O'Connor at Second Chance late the night Michael Davis died.
After pub closing time. He says he was looking for his wife, but in
town, not at Second Chance."

"Well, we all saw him in town at one point, didn't we, when he made
that scene in the bar. But I talked to Deirdre before she went off to
Dublin, and she didn't say a word about it. Why is Deirdre saying this
now? Why not before?"

"Something about loyalty to the family, didn't want to get any of
them in trouble when she was sure Conail hadn't really done anything
wrong et cetera, et cetera. I can see why you refer to her as Deirdre
of the Sorrows, by the way. Sad little lady. I see her kind of face
from time to time, usually on the victims. They have an expression on
their faces that seems to say that they know life will disappoint them,
that something bad will happen to them. And the funny thing is, it
does. I don't know whether they're victims because they look like
victims, that they invite it in some way, or they look that way because
of things that have happened to them already. Either way, I never quite
know what to do or say to people like that." He paused for a moment.
"Anyway, that's the reason I asked you to come down here, to try to
confirm times again. I know we've been through this before, but in
light of Deirdre's statement, we're going to have to go through it all
again."

He looked tired. Well he might, of course, chasing criminals all day
and doing the horizontal two-step with Ban Garda Maeve all night.

"How are you, anyway?" he said, smiling at me.

"It's ages since we had a chance to talk."

"Fine," I said. "I'm using my time here to find some stock for the
store. Figure I might as well do something useful while I wait."

"Good," he said. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to believe
me, but wasn't sure whether he could or not. But he liked the idea of
what I'd said. He thought it would keep me out of trouble. "Are you
really?" he said suspiciously.

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