Chapter 13
It felt so odd following Eddie and Elaine to their table. Eddie grabbed a couple of stray chairs and crammed them into their two-seater. Given the crowd, Tara wondered if he was stealing previously occupied seats. So much for a successful stakeout; the targets had not only made them, they were now inviting them over, gaining the upper hand. Danny was right. She was out of her element. Danny didn’t seem fazed at all by the reversal. His eyes were dancing, probably from keeping his fanboy all bottled in. Eddie leaned in. He reeked of whiskey. “Is it true? Veronica came to see you at your shop?”
“Renewals,” Elaine said. For a woman who had just arrived she was certainly in the know.
“I didn’t get your name,” Tara said. She was debating whether or not to admit that she knew very well who she was, and decided to feign innocence.
“I’m Elaine Burke. I was Veronica’s best friend.”
“We know your name,” Danny said, directing the statement to Eddie, and sticking his hand out. “I’m a big fan.”
Eddie’s head cocked back, and he gave Danny about two seconds before turning to Tara. “Tell us everything about the day Veronica came into your shop.” Danny’s hand flopped back by his side, and Tara felt a twinge of pity for him. Seconds after meeting his idol and he was already let down.
“I’ve told the cops everything I know,” Tara found herself saying like a suspect in a movie.
Eddie placed his hand on his chest. “Have you ever been married?”
She tensed, not wanting this man she’d barely met to inquire into her personal life. One she was trying to heal from, but the wounds were vulnerable and needed some boundaries. Danny shifted beside her; he knew all about her previous marriage to Gabriel, how it dissolved after Thomas died. Three years was all she had with Thomas. Three years. She guarded those memories like a mother bear. Her son wasn’t open for discussion unless she initiated it, not with this man, not with anyone.
“What are you trying to ask her?” Danny said. He’d switched to protection mode and Tara was grateful for it. She felt his hand wrap around hers and squeeze. She bit back tears. He had her back when it counted the most.
“I wasn’t trying to pry,” Eddie said, finally reading the room, and sitting back in his chair. “It’s just. When you’re divorced, people assume you aren’t grieving. But I am. I couldn’t have loved Veronica more. And the guards aren’t talking. I need to know what she said, is there anything that might have . . .”
“Given me a clue as to who did this?” Tara said.
Eddie swallowed and nodded. Tara saw her own grief reflected in his face. He had loved her. And he seemed bent on getting answers. Unless he’s lying . . .
“I’m sorry. I swear to you there’s nothing she said that will help us find her killer. But I’d be happy to tell you about her visit to my shop. I get why you want to know.”
“Tank you.”
She filled them in on her first meeting with the heiress, making a point to emphasize Veronica’s devotion to Eddie’s art. He listened intently, nodding, shaking his head when he learned she’d given Tara his portfolio. He laughed when she recounted Bartley’s story of Eddie swiping the cap from Veronica’s driver.
“Good old Bixby,” Eddie said. “He was such an old fuss I couldn’t help meself.” He turned to Elaine. “Whatever happened to him?”
Her face looked pinched. “He passed away.”
“He did? When?”
“I think we’re getting off topic,” Elaine said softly. “He was in his early sixties. Life took him way too young.”
Eddie whistled and rubbed his face. “He was a good old sport.” He shrugged and turned back to Tara. “Veronica still believed in me. Even though I haven’t created in a long time.”
“I hope that changes soon,” Danny said.
“Did she mention me?” Elaine Burke asked, her voice filled with desperation.
“Your name was on her amends list,” Tara said. “But I never got the chance to speak with her about it.”
“I see.” Elaine looked down at the table.
“But in her notes she mentioned you were her best friend, and she used your nickname. Lainey.” Tara felt a squeeze of pity for Elaine; her sadness was palpable.
When Elaine looked up, for a second Tara saw the young girl from the picture. “I was her best friend once. That was a long time ago.” Pain swam in her eyes. Was she thinking of Terrance, the love of her life? Or did she fixate on Veronica’s betrayal?
“I hope it’s some comfort she intended to make amends,” Tara said. “And I believed she was sincere.”
Elaine grasped her drink. “In her drinking days she was either in love with you or out to get you. Usually both. Male, female, related, stranger. It didn’t matter. I suppose recovery has been good for her. Was good for her,” she corrected. “Her sponsor must be a remarkable woman.” She looked to Eddie as if wanting him to pitch in.
“Of course,” Eddie said, waving it away. “There was no need for apologies. That woman doesn’t remember half the things she did.”
That woman. So much for all the love he claimed to feel for his ex-wife. “Speaking of her sponsor,” Tara said. “Did either of you know Nancy Halligan?”
“Is that her name?” Elaine said. “I’ve yet to meet her.”
“None of us knew the ‘new’ Veronica,” Eddie said. “But I’m guessing the old one was a lot more fun.” He finished the rest of his pint in one long swallow as if drinking for the both of them.
“Then you haven’t heard the news,” Tara said, treading lightly. Their faces turned toward her expectantly. “Nancy Halligan passed away one week before Veronica. A heart attack.”
Elaine gasped. “My word. How awful.”
Eddie stared off into the distance. “One week before Veronica?”
“Yes,” Tara said. I found her. And I think Veronica’s killer led me to her. Was it one of the two sitting before her? She looked at Elaine. “Veronica must have driven you crazy.”
“Me?” Elaine said. “Why do you tink dat?”
Perspective. Makes one crazy. “Oh, just in general. It must have been difficult.”
“It’s her niece and her first husband she drove crazy. She drove her husband to the grave and don’t tell me that pill habit of Cassie’s has nothing to do with Roni, because it certainly does.”
Drove her husband to the grave. The best friend had claws. And Elaine had certainly not forgotten. Did that mean she truly suspected Veronica of killing Terrance Hughes, or was it just an expression?
“Is her niece the pretty young blonde?” Danny asked. He knew the answer, but Tara was grateful he was willing to help keep them talking as well.
“Yes,” Elaine said, her lips pursed. “Cassidy Hughes is a little addict and a manipulator.”
“And easy on the eyes,” Eddie added with a conspiratorial wink to Danny.
“When a woman is hot she is hot no matter her age,” Danny said with a straight face while his foot nudged hers under the table.
Eddie frowned, then laughed and lifted his pint, staring at it as if surprised to find it drained.
“You mentioned something about Cassidy and pills,” Tara said, hoping to bring this table back to order.
Elaine arched an eyebrow in disapproval, then smoothed her hand across the table. “I’ll say no more.”
Danny turned the attention back to Eddie. “Are you working on any art projects at the moment?”
“Nothing the world will get to see,” Eddie said. “Veronica was my muse.” It was the utterings of a man drunk on Guinness and nostalgia. Even so, there was something scripted about it. Danny might be fooled, but Tara didn’t believe his act for a second. Nothing the world would get to see ... What did that mean? The marbles that covered Veronica flashed in her mind yet again. She had been posed. Decorated. If Eddie was the killer, was that his calling card? Did he turn her into a sculpture?
“He’ll create until he dies,” Lainey said. “He did not choose to be an artist, he is an artist, it’s a part of him like blood, and breathing.” Eddie lifted his head for a second as if her words were the sun and he was basking in it. Then he swiped his empty pint glass and clumsily stumbled up from the table and toward the bar. Handsome and brooding and a whole world of trouble. Some women couldn’t get enough of that. Tara glanced at Danny.
“We’d better be going.” Tara pushed back her chair and stood. If Eddie had murdered Veronica, then staged her like one of his sculptures, she couldn’t sit this close to him. She felt a clawing need to flee.
“Really?” Danny said.
“I’m not feeling well. I need to go.”
“We should be off too,” Elaine said, glancing at Eddie, who had elbowed his way to the front of the bar. “Luckily that SUV can fit the entire group.”
“Looks like he’s staying,” Tara said, pointing at Eddie. “But I really have to go.” She headed for the door.
“Where’s the fire?” Eddie had snuck up from behind her. He lurched and knocked over a chair.
“Steady now,” the publican yelled out. A book fell out of Eddie’s pocket and thudded to the floor. Tara bent down to retrieve it. Places to See in Ireland Before You Die. She gasped and dropped it again.
Eddie swiped it up and glared. “What on earth is the matter with ya?”
“That book. Where did you get it?”
“We all have one,” Lainey said, as she and Danny caught up. “From Veronica.” The publican, a tall man with an impressive glare, showed up behind them.
“Why don’t you move this outside. Our musicians deserve a bit of respect.”
Danny helped hustle them out the door. Outside, the wind was biting, but Tara could hardly feel it. The book was from Veronica? Veronica acted like she’d never seen the book. Called it morbid. Had that been some kind of game?
Elaine stepped up to Tara, who was trying not to hyperventilate. “Why do you look as if you’ve seen a ghost?”
Tara swallowed. “Someone left a copy of that book for me in the shop.”
Elaine arched an eyebrow. “Must have been her then.” She let out a soft laugh. “I guess we weren’t so special after all.”
“She acted as if she’d never seen the book before,” Tara said. “She called it morbid.”
“Roni liked games,” Elaine said. “I guess even sobriety hadn’t changed that.”
Tara leaned forward. “How do you know it was from Veronica? Was there a note from her? Did she tell you she sent it?”
For a moment, Eddie and Elaine froze. Elaine shook her head. “I don’t think so. Come to think of it, mine was sitting at me front door. But I’d just received the invitation from Veronica. So I assumed . . .” She looked to Eddie. He took a few staggering steps.
“What?”
“Where did you find your book?” Elaine asked.
“My book?”
Elaine grabbed the book from his hands and shoved it in his face. “This one.”
He took a step back and nearly fell. Danny held him up. “From Roni,” he said, waving his hand.
“We’ll ask him when he’s sober,” Tara said. “We also have to talk to the others.”
“I don’t like this development,” Elaine said.
Neither did Tara. An SUV slid up to the pub and Andy stepped out. “Are we ready to go home?”
“You waited for us?” Tara said.
He smiled. “It’s a lot livelier around here than back at the castle.”
Eddie pointed to Andy’s cap. “It’s Bixby’s cap,” he said. “He’s wearing Bixby’s cap.”
“For heaven’s sake, just get in,” Elaine said, shoving Eddie in the back.
“What are you saying about the book?” Eddie said, refusing to get in the vehicle. He pointed at Tara. “What is she saying about the book?”
“She’s saying it might not have been Roni who left us that book,” Elaine said before Tara could answer. “Now get in.”
Eddie crawled into the very back and the rest of them filed in after. Andy pulled away from the curb, his eyes watching the drama in the rearview mirror.
“If Roni didn’t leave us da book, den who did?” Eddie mumbled. “Who left us the book?” A moment of awkward silence filled the space.
“The killer,” Elaine said at last. Her voice was soft but clear. “She’s saying it could have been left by the killer.”