Chapter 26
Siobhán stood in the kitchen at Naomi’s surveying the food. Eoin had overseen the entire operation and he had outdone himself. Shepherd’s pie, and finger sandwiches, and toasties, and pasta salads, and bacon and cabbage, and Irish stew, and, of course, brown bread and desserts. Everything was packed up and ready to take to Sharkey’s. Siobhán was just about to head there, and then her mobile rang. Unknown flashed across the screen. She headed to the back dining room for privacy.
“Hello?”
“Why aren’t you investigating Rory Mack?” The voice was low and garbled as if the caller was attempting to disguise his voice.
“What about Rory Mack?” Was it Shane Ross? It could be, but it was hard to tell.
“Friday night. Did you know Rory Mack sat in on a game?”
“Okay.”
“He lost.”
“Go on.”
“He threw his pub in the pot.”
“Come again?”
“Eamon Foley won Sharkey’s Pub.” The phone clicked off. Siobhán stared at it for a long, long time. She took her scooter, her mind flying through the revelation. Losing his pub was just as strong a motive for murder as losing a horse. And Rory Mack didn’t bother to mention it. Instead he invited the Octopus to sleep it off in the storage room. It was three hours until the wake. When it was over, everyone would go home. The case might stay open, linger for years, or be closed as a suicide. She had too many questions, too many suspects, and too little time. But there was at least one thing she could do: confront Rory Mack about this whopper of a secret. She was in luck. When she arrived at Sharkey’s, Rory was behind the bar replacing stock. “I’m almost ready,” he said as Siobhán walked in.
“Did you take part in any of the poker games on Friday night?”
He stopped taking bottles out of cardboard boxes and looked to the ceiling as if the answers were written in the rafters. “I might have done.”
“It’s a yes-or-no question.”
“I believe I sat in on one game. Just for fun.” He winked.
“That’s a yes.” He was being squirrelly, and she was going to force him to admit it.
“Yes, Garda. Am I under arrest?”
“Did you make any bets other than cash?”
“I said it was just for the craic.”
“In the spirit of all this craic you were having, did you bet and lose this pub to Eamon Foley?”
“Who?”
“The Octopus.” The man we found hanging in your storage room.
“Why would I do that?”
“Rory Mack, you had better stop answering every one of my questions with a question. All I want from you is a yes or a no.”
He blinked. Then waited.
“Did you bet this pub in a poker game with Eamon Foley?”
He blinked again. “You’re constricting my answer.”
“How so?”
“Because I’d like to know where on earth did you hear dat?”
“That’s not an answer. A witness—let’s call him ’Unknown’—has come forward.”
“Not a very reliable witness, I’ll say dat.”
“And yet you haven’t answered the question.”
“I most certainly did not. I might have made a foolish remark. There was drink involved. You know yourself.” He frowned. “I heard dat widow is after Henry Moore’s racehorse. Is she the one stirring the pot? Is she after me pub now too?”
Does Rose know about the bet? “Has she been in here to see you?”
Rory’s face flushed red. “No!” His anger startled her. He registered her response. “I’m sorry. This murder has me on edge. I’ve not slept a wink since I heard the news. In me own pub! Well. You know yourself.”
She did know herself. And she didn’t want to think about that. “It’s too bad those cameras weren’t working. You’d be able to prove you didn’t bet the pub.”
“Yes,” he said, burying himself in boxes. “’Tis a pity, alright.”
She stood there, gaping at him, fury boiling in her veins. “We’ll talk to others, see if they remember it the same way.”
“’Course you will,” he said. “But it will be their word against mine, and everyone was blotto.”
She should stop talking. She had nothing else to confront him with but a mysterious caller. None of the other witnesses had reported that Rory Mack bet the pub. Maybe it was said in jest. If it wasn’t, they would need solid evidence. It was tough to do your job when so many of your clients were criminals. She headed out of the pub, yearning for fresh air. She’d be stuck in here for the wake, until then she wanted to be anywhere but here.
* * *
While Siobhán was weaving her way down Sarsfield Street, someone jostled her from behind. She turned to see Shane Ross twitching in front of her, sweat pouring off him in buckets. “Is it true the diamond I showed you was stolen?”
He was so close to her, they could have been dancing. “Yes,” she said. “Who told you?”
“Can I trust you?” His eyes flicked left and then right. “I don’t know who to trust.”
“You can trust me.”
“I think I’m being set up.”
“Then you better start talking.”
“How? I don’t know who to trust!” He started pacing. “This has gone too far. Too far. Way too far!”
“Why don’t you give me a try?” She waited. He stopped pacing, but couldn’t keep himself from fidgeting. “At least answer some of my questions.”
“I was in my room at the inn all day yesterday. I’d had enough of crowds. You can ask the old lady who runs the place.”
“I doubt Margaret spent her day keeping track of her guests coming and going.” Who was she kidding? That’s exactly what Margaret spent her days doing.
“I didn’t budge from me room all day.”
“How did you hear about the break-in?”
“Are they pointing the finger at me?”
“They have to investigate it fully. I had to report the situation.”
“Why doesn’t a jewelry store have cameras?”
“Apparently, the culprit disabled them.”
“How?” He seemed to be genuinely asking.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about abling cameras, let alone disabling them!”
“Are you even engaged?”
He looked away. “No.”
“Then why did you ask me to look at rings?”
“That sergeant. He asked me to show you the rings. To see which one you liked.”
“You’re joking me.” Now she was browned off. Either Shane Ross was lying, or Macdara was lying. If she wanted to find out, she’d have to ask Macdara again. Which would again bring up the entire subject of marriage. And that went so well the first time. What did she want? She wanted him to make the decision so she didn’t have to. What is so hard about that?
But this case was more urgent than their romance. One of them was lying. Siobhán would prefer if it wasn’t her lover. Shane Ross was the liar. He was playing her. Underestimating her. She would see how he liked deflection when it was used against him. “Do you have any idea how many folks made and lost bets to Eamon that night?”
“You’re joking. Almost everyone who was there.”
“Big-ticket items. Like the racehorse?”
“I see.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I wouldn’t t’ink anyone was too worked up about dat. I assured them he wasn’t going to follow through on any of those t’ings.”
“Wait. You did?”
He nodded. “I told yer man as much. Eamon was too drunk to remember any of those bets anyway.”
“Too drunk to remember winning a horse?” And a pub? And who knows what else? She highly doubted it. “How much did you lose to him?”
He dropped his arms again. “I knew it. You are pointing the finger at me.”
“I have more than one finger to point and this is a murder probe.”
“Then why does it feel like a hustle?”
“Perhaps your choice of a career has influenced the way you filter your experiences.”
“You’re interesting.”
“That’s one word for me.”
“I didn’t kill Eamon Foley.”
Do you steal diamonds, Shane? Is that why you’re really here? There was no way she could ask or even hint. She would be out on her ear if she interfered with an undercover operation.
“Is Clementine going to have to give a statement? Or is she not a suspect because she’s a colleen?”
“Both sexes are capable of murder.”
“Exactly.” Shane glanced up and down the street. “If anything happens to me, I’m blaming yer man.”
Macdara? “What are you talking about?”
“I told you. He’s the one who asked me to show you the rings. Why is he doing this to me?”
“I have to go. Will I see you at the wake?”
Shane nodded. “I told you. I’ll pay me respects to the widow and then I’m gone.”
Then you’re going to break into the jewelry store when everyone else is still paying their respects. She wished she could be a fly on the wall, see the expression on his face when he was caught. “I will see you later.”
He grabbed her elbow, swung her around. “You heard me say it. If anything happens to me, it was him who done it.”
* * *
Siobhán was passing by the hardware shop when Liam waved frantically at her from the window. She stepped into the shop. Liam waved her up to the counter. “I just remembered something.”
“Go on.”
“Before I tell you, I must say, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation.”
“I’m sure.”
“You asked if anyone had come before Saturday to buy rope.”
He had her attention now. “Yes, I did.”
“I wasn’t hiding this from you. It slipped me mind.”
“Go on then.”
“It was the first day everyone came to town and we were overwhelmed with all the tent poles, and stakes, and O-rings.”
“Spit it out.”
“Amanda Moore. She came into the shop. And she bought that rope.”
“You already told me. They buy it for the horses.”
He shook his head. “They do. That’s the point. They picked it up earlier in the month. She came in again. For more.”
“On Friday morning.”
“Exactly.”
“Early?”
He nodded. “The tents weren’t even being set up yet.”
“So it was before the players arrived in town.”
“Yes.”
“Before her father bet her prized racehorse in a poker game.”
“Exactly.” He stopped, thought about it. “Oh.” He let out a breath. “Quite innocent then. That’s a relief.”
“Yes.” She let out a breath too. Unless Amanda Moore could predict the future, she might have bought rope Friday morning, but it certainly wasn’t to hang a man she’d never met. However . . . it was a chaotic day. Did she buy the rope and then leave it somewhere by accident? Could it be the rope that ended up in Sharkey’s Pub? She thanked Liam and headed out, questions gathering in her mind like storm clouds.