Monday 26th September – 5 a.m.
When they’d called, James had leaped at the chance to collect Sean and Maeve from hospital. With Finn and Brandon staying in for observation, and Sean and Maeve reconciled again, having made up in the hospital, James was glad of the chance to ask a few questions.
He’d grimaced at Maeve’s nose, the line showing the break, lurid and puffy, spidering with purple broken blood vessels. Both eyes were red-ringed with fresh bruising. She just shrugged. ‘I was a soldier. I’ve had worse,’ was her only comment.
They sat in the back, like he was their chauffeur. When James saw it was so they could hold hands, he hid a grin.
Turning to Maeve as he put his seat belt on, James asked, ‘Do you mind if I ask some questions, Maeve? It seems like there’s a lot to understand, about Siobhan.’
Maeve nodded firmly. ‘Go ahead.’
Pulling onto the road, he said, ‘I gather the Garda didn’t take her disappearance very seriously. Did they ask about everyone’s whereabouts? The last place Siobhan had been seen?’
‘Oh yes,’ Sean answered. ‘And a lot was made of that. By Conor.’
‘Oh?’ James hoped his silence would invite details.
Sean shrugged. ‘He and Brandon were alone. Finn and I were the only two of us brothers who could be accounted for. Right through from about four to eight o’clock. I guess now that means we’re the only two with alibis …’
James glanced in the mirror at Sean acknowledging Siobhan had been murdered. He was looking at Maeve. She gave a grim nod and squeezed his hand.
‘So what were you and Finn doing for those four hours?’
‘I was at home. I was a right nerd back then. Studying. I’d set myself a certain amount to do before dinner, so I could go to the pub afterwards with Finn. My parents were at home, but outside working. There’s always work to do on a farm. But they came in a couple of times for a drink or to use the lav. That’s how they knew I was there all evening.’
‘With Finn?’ James clarified.
‘No. He was out.’
‘With who?’ James asked.
‘Oh, on his own, but he was on the phone to me pretty much the whole time.’ Sean grimaced. ‘Mobiles were a big deal back then, and Finn always had to have the latest gadget. He’s always been a bit of a wheeler dealer, even since school. He was the boy who bought sweets wholesale, broke up the bulk-buy pack then sold them in the playground. At the time Siobhan … went missing … his big idea was gin. And, let’s be fair, he was on to something – well ahead of all the artisanal distilleries that have popped up everywhere now. Even Delaneys! I think they inspired him, with their whiskey selling so well. I think he just wondered what else you could make. So he was out foraging.’
‘Foraging? Finn?’
‘Oh yes. It seemed like a natural progression at the time. A few years earlier, he’d decided to sell flowers. He’d thought it would be easy to make up bouquets and sell them for a premium.’ Sean laughed. ‘Right up until he realised what time you’d have to get to the flower markets. He’d gone out picking wildflowers, until the Garda caught up with him – or Conor, I should say, who Finn had charmed into doing the grunt work, and who then got cautioned for breaking the law. But Finn could forage for botanicals for his gin. He just needed me to look up every species he found. Hence the virtually permanent phone calls.’
‘Wouldn’t it have been easier for him to take his own plant ID book with him?’ James asked. ‘Identify them himself?’
‘You’d think! But he didn’t have the patience to learn. I wasn’t much better, but I’d at least try, using the nature books we had at home. I made him an easy book of notes of the local plants to take with him, but he usually left it in the car. You couldn’t accuse him of being a natural botanist. But he was passionate about the flavours and what he called the unique cachet of the local botanicals.’ Sean shot him a grin in the rear-view mirror. ‘Business USP, you see.’
‘Uh, huh. But none of that is an alibi, Sean. However much you might have been chatting.’
‘No, you don’t get it. It was basically non-stop. And we could both show our call records. No way he could have done much else.’
‘Hold on, a four-hour call? Back then? I can’t believe the batteries had that capacity.’
‘Don’t you remember plugging mobile phones into the cigarette lighter in the car?’ Sean said. ‘He did that. Finn was always on full battery. In every sense.’
‘And what about mobile coverage? It must have been patchy?’
‘Oh, it was. But you’d only lose each other for a few minutes here and there. It wasn’t a major disruption.’
‘Right. So did he manage to actually do any foraging?’ James asked.
‘Ha! I know what you’re thinking. And yes. He came back with containers full of specimens. So he couldn’t have been doing anything else.’
‘I was actually thinking that if he was able to forage while he spoke – then he might have been able to do other things, too, perhaps.’ His eyes flicked to Sean’s reflection in the mirror again. ‘What kept you talking that long?’
‘Oh …’ Sean exhaled. ‘Well, while he was foraging, conversation was pretty focused on the plants and the key. He needed my help to identify the specimens.’
‘Can you recall which?’
‘Pfff.’ Sean thought for a moment. ‘It’ll’ve been the usual suspects, like you heard at the distillery. Bogbean, bog myrtle, cloudberry, bog rosemary, pipewort, hawthorn, tormentil, bitter vetch, bilberry, bell heather and a little plant that looks like heather called … um … cross-leaved heath, I think. They’ll be engraved in my brain forever, all the effort it took to ID them. And Finn hadn’t really appreciated what Maeve’s team know now; he’d been picking the plants in flower, thinking the scented bit carried the flavour. But leaves, stems, roots can be aromatic, like in bogbean; or the flavour’s in the berries, like hawthorn or bilberry.’
‘Ah. So were his recipes any good?’ James asked.
‘Yeah, they were grand.’ Sean shrugged. ‘But it wasn’t the right time.’
‘And was that all you talked about?’
‘No. When he was driving between stop-offs we were talking about something important …’ Sean frowned. ‘Oh jeez, yes. Of course. I can remember exactly. Because it was such a huge shock. I’d overheard him talking to our parents that morning. They’d agreed to give him a chunk of money. I was stunned. He’d been so secretive about it.’
‘So did he tell you what it was for?’
‘Yes, he’d decided to emigrate. Just like that! Completely out of the blue. He’d worked out what he thought he could make on his next batch of gin, and how much he could sell his still for, and then he was heading across the pond to make his fortune. But he was short a few grand – we all know what that means with Finn; he’s not talking about one or two, here – and he asked Mammie and Da to make up the amount.’
‘Was that a typical way your family would deal with things like that? Did they mind?’
‘No. Well. He had them in a corner, really. Just a few years previous, they’d given Brandon money for his boat to set him up when he moved in with Siobhan. Conor was next, but Conor’s always done his own thing. So Finn considered himself next in line.’
‘Even after such an entrepreneurial life?’ James said.
Sean shrugged. ‘I guess he had a target amount to start himself up. To be honest, I was more shocked about him leaving. He’d never mentioned it before.’
‘Oh?’ James glanced at Maeve through the rear-view mirror, her face set. But she met his eyes and nodded.
‘I reckon that’s why Brandon thought Finn and Siobhan were running off together,’ she said. ‘And Finn was always a flirt when he was younger. Back then, he was good-looking and had this kind of … carefree attitude. Now, he’s got a … cynical edge to him. It makes me uneasy.’ She shivered.
‘Did you ever think they’d planned to run off together?’ James asked her.
Maeve gave a small laugh and shook her head. ‘There isn’t a theory I haven’t thought of. Trust me. Twenty years is a lot of thinking time. But with Finn, I did think he’d have told me. I’d have expected any of the brothers to tell me if they knew something. I suppose I relied on that. But no one’s going to tell me they killed her, are they?’
Her shoulders shook and she drew her trembling mouth into a tight line, as if she’d said enough. ‘So it’s lucky that now I have proof.’
‘What?’ James asked.
‘All in good time, James. I have some questions to ask first.’
James tried to delay their return in case Maeve might say more, but she didn’t. Back home, Maeve and Sean made breakfast.
Trying to help, James couldn’t help noticing the quantities. ‘You expecting an army?’
He won a smile from Maeve. ‘That’s what he’s used to. Army chef.’
‘When Conor went off to the army, and then Maeve did the same, I wanted to follow suit,’ Sean said. ‘But Maeve warned me I had more of a stomach for cheffing than soldiering.’ He patted his stomach with a self-deprecating grin. ‘And like any good fiancé-in-waiting, I took her advice.’
Sean was clearly not just a cook. Food was his love language: the vast kitchen table groaned under platters of still-sizzling bacon, plump, herby sausages, creamy farm-fresh scrambled eggs, bubbling beans, piles of golden buttered toast and pots of zesty marmalade.
As if Sean had somehow known they would come, a car pulled up outside and two doors slammed. Seconds later, the front door opened, and Brandon and Finn walked in.
‘You came together?’ Sean asked.
‘Least he could do was pay for the Uber.’ Finn’s slurring mumble made it clear he was on heavy painkillers.
With a sideways glance, all Sean said was, ‘Well, there’s a good breakfast here. If you can eat?’ The brothers’ faces were both smothered in dressings, only their bloodshot eyes uncovered.
‘I’ll t-ch-try,’ Brandon wheezed. The nasal, stuffy tone revealed his broken nose, and the whistling ‘t’ suggested more than one missing tooth.
The stairs creaked, then Sylvia and Conor walked in, with Shannon following. She raised her eyebrows at James, and he shot her a smile.
‘This is very magnanimous, after last night’s fight. And the things that were said,’ Sylvia commented.
‘Yeah, well. Emotions were high,’ Sean said. ‘And we have a hell of a day to brace ourselves for. A bit of solidarity can’t hurt.’
James marvelled at Sean’s optimism. Perhaps he was trying to flush out Siobhan’s murderer with kindness?
Maeve stood at the end of the huge table, gazing through the kitchen window, a mug of coffee in her hands. Her face looked so sore, James could hardly bear to look. Her dark hair was pulled into a topknot, wisps framing her face, which was lined with exhaustion. The green checked shirt was clearly Sean’s. But now James noticed that Maeve did hold herself like a soldier: upright, action-ready and alert, despite her fatigue.
Brandon managed to glower through his bandages from the far end of the table. Finn drank his coffee through a straw, threaded between dressings.
Draining her coffee cup, Maeve stood and put it in the dishwasher. ‘I’m getting changed now, then heading up to my folks. I want to spend some time with them ahead of Siobhan’s wake, make sure they have everything the way they want it before people start arriving. You boys are all expected. If you want to walk with me, I’ll be going up in half an hour. James, any of you are welcome to join us, but no obligation, of course.’
She didn’t need to say any more. The brothers nodded.
Everyone ate in silence, then one by one the men melted away.
Conor eyed Sylvia’s ruby cashmere sweater. ‘Did you bring anything dark-coloured?’
She nodded, and headed upstairs, followed by Shannon, and James took the hint to get changed into something suitably formal.
Back downstairs, having got suited and booted in record time, James watched as Sean and Finn reappeared in black suits. Brandon had gone home and returned in a suit that looked a fraction too small for him, as he kept tugging the sleeves.
Wondering where Nell and Rav were, James scribbled a quick note, warning about the dress code. He could text the address once he knew it.
Shannon wore a sleek black dress and coat, while Sylvia wore black palazzo pants, a cream blouse and charcoal overcoat. Maeve swung the black jacket of her suit on as she hurried downstairs, then headed straight out.
She expected the cortege to follow, and they did.