Chapter 12
“It is of great interest,” Siobhán said, dying to hear about Ellen’s mysterious visitor, but trying not to sound too eager.
“I have to tend to the garden. We can chat while I work.” Geraldine switched her kitchen apron for a gardening smock, and even had matching gloves, and an adorable basket. “It must have been someone important,” Geraldine said as she moved seamlessly amongst the flowers pulling up weeds.
“Why do you say that?”
“A limousine in this village stands out.”
Siobhán remembered what Mary’s young daughter had said. “We saw the big black car!” It seemed the little girl didn’t have an overactive imagination after all. “A limousine?”
“It pulled up to the gate, then shut off while the driver got out and made his way up to the cottage.”
“Describe him.”
“He was a short man, alright.”
Siobhán waited but that seemed to be all she remembered about his appearance. “You saw him get out of the limo?”
“I said so, did I not?”
Siobhán clenched her fist and took a deep breath. She needed to start carrying a few whittling tools in her handbag. She’d like to take a knife to wood right about now. “Repetition is helpful to guards, Mrs. Madigan. I’m sure it’s frustrating for you, but I do wish you’d adjust your tone.”
Instead, Geraldine took the opportunity to adjust her floppy hat, then nodded. “He barged up to Ellen’s door and banged on it. Ellen let him in. A few minutes later he hurried out, practically running to his car.” She stopped yanking weeds and stood straight. “Do you think that was him? The murderer?” Siobhán’s reprimand had done the trick; Geraldine was no longer barking at her.
“What time was this?”
“I believe it was around half ten in the morning.”
“A limousine. On Friday morning?”
“Odd, isn’t it?”
Yes, it was. Siobhán thought everything she’d seen and heard in this village so far had been odd. She’d keep that opinion to herself as well. “Are you sure of the time?”
“Ah, sure. I was with the young ones in the front yard. I was still trying to get them to eat their breakfast.” Siobhán could imagine them out in the yard, watching the limo pull up. “She was going somewhere fancy, we know that.”
The image of Ellen in her red dress rose in her mind. “You saw her?”
Geraldine scanned the environment as if the flowers had just sprouted eyes and ears and were intent on eavesdropping. “Aye. I stopped in for a cuppa to see if she would mention the fancy limousine.”
“How soon after you first spotted the limo was this?”
“I’d say about an hour. The children had been fed, and were in their beds for a lie-down, and the limo was gone. I decided to find out what that was all about.”
“Did Ellen answer?”
“She did. And she lied straight to my face.”
“How so?”
“I asked her where she planned on going in that fancy limousine and she had the nerve to say—‘what limousine?’ ”
“Is it possible she hadn’t seen it?”
“Not a chance. The driver walked right up to her door and I saw her answer it. Were you not listening?” So much for the truce. Geraldine was prickly once more.
“I give you she saw the driver, but perhaps she didn’t see the limousine.”
“Well, then I hope she asked the man dressed in black with a driver’s cap what he was doing at her door, like.”
“Please continue.”
“I asked her if it had pulled up for directions—maybe it was someone who heard stories about fairies, a looky-loo. That’s all we need is tourists coming to gawk.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me she knew nothing about it.” Geraldine stopped pulling weeds and blew on a strand of her hair that had fallen in the way. “But I saw her answer the door, like.”
“I see.”
“And then there’s this.” Geraldine took off her gloves and reached under the apron into the pocket of her dress. She pulled out a calling card and held it up for Siobhán to see: PRIMO LIMO. “This was on Ellen’s counter.”
“On the counter? Are you sure?” Didn’t Jane say that Ellen loathed anything cluttering the counter? First the stack of papers, now this. Maybe Ellen only kept things neat when Jane was around. Perhaps she was a more relaxed housekeeper when she was alone? Or someone else was cluttering up the cottage. The killer?
“Yes,” Geraldine said, watching Siobhán intently. “Is that important?”
“I don’t know,” Siobhán answered honestly. “Did you see anything else on the counter?”
Geraldine pondered the question. “No. Just the card.”
“Which you plucked?”
Geraldine stared at her shoes. “I don’t know why I took it. I really don’t.”
She not only took it, she was keeping it close. “You know why.”
Geraldine’s face twisted into a sour expression. “I don’t like liars. Ellen Delaney lied straight to my face.”
Perhaps she thought it was none of your business. “What was she wearing?”
“Heavens, I wouldn’t be able to tell you dat.”
“Was she dressed up?”
“No. A housecoat of some sort. That’s all I know.”
“Then why did you say she must have been going somewhere fancy?”
If Geraldine were a portrait she would be titled: Woman Who Swallowed a Live Fish. It took her a moment to recover. “Why, because of the limo, of course.”
“Maybe the driver was lost. Asking for directions.” Siobhán didn’t believe this for a second, but Geraldine was hiding something, she was sure of it.
“She was so upset when I brought up the limo she didn’t even let me finish me tea and biscuit. Rushed me out of the house saying she had to take care of something right away.” She handed Siobhán the calling card. “Maybe yer man can shed some light on the situation.”
Siobhán tucked the card away. “Thank you. Before I leave—can you please tell me your version of the strange events of Friday night?”
“I was standing out on the porch catching the evening breeze when strange lights appeared in the distance, followed by lilting music. Flutes. I saw a figure trudging across the field. At the time I had no idea who it was, although I realize now it must have been Ellen.”
“Where do you think she was going?”
“To spend the night near the fairy tree.”
This story had just taken a strange turn. “Why do you think that?”
Geraldine tapped her lip with her finger. “I heard a rumor.”
Or you’re about to start one.... “Go on.”
“Someone bet Ellen that she couldn’t spend the entire night near the fairy tree.”
“Who was this someone?”
Geraldine shook her head. “I can’t say for sure.”
Siobhán doubted that. “Where did you hear this rumor?”
“My daughter-in-law. She heard someone in her painting class mention it.”
Yet another reason Siobhán needed to meet this Annabel. “Why do you think Ellen would make a bet like that?”
“Ellen Delaney was on a mission to prove the town wrong about the fairies and therefore save the cottage. If she had managed to spend an entire night near the fairy tree and fairy ring, she could have presented that as proof that either the fairies don’t exist, or they had no quarrel with her.” She sighed. “I take no pleasure in saying I told her so.”
There was a lot of detail in Geraldine’s guess. “Is this pure conjecture on your part or did Ellen tell you she planned on spending the night near the fairy ring?” It was a very specific theory. Too specific.
Geraldine began to blink rapidly. “I’m just connecting the dots.”
“I see.” Siobhán didn’t know anyone who would come up with those dots let alone connect them. She had a feeling Geraldine was indeed the one who had goaded Ellen into the bet. Was there more to her plan? “Then what?”
“I was awoken in the middle of the night by the music. Flutes. I put on my robe and slippers and stepped outside. You should have seen the lights. The skies were glowing, as if responding to the music. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And then came the scream.” She shuddered. “The wail of a banshee. That’s when I saw Ellen flying through the meadow on her way back to the cottage.”
“If it was evening how could you see her so clearly?”
“It was the summer solstice. The longest day of the year. Not to mention the light of the full moon.”
“Did you see anyone following her?”
“No. But the scream woke the children up, so I was tending to them.”
“Maybe that’s when Lilly saw the pretty lights and people dancing?” Geraldine yanked weeds out with a vengeance, sending dirt flying in Siobhán’s direction. Mention of her granddaughter only made her clam up. Siobhán edged closer. “Why didn’t you go over to the cottage to see if Ellen was okay?” Wasn’t that the point of living in a small village? Neighbor looking out for neighbor?
Geraldine stared and blinked some more. “I should have. But I was terrified. I wasn’t going to leave the children.”
“But that morning you left them having a lie-in and walked over to Ellen’s cottage.”
“That’s different. In the light of day it’s alright. Different story in the dark of night. You know yourself.”
Ireland did fall to black at night, but earlier Geraldine had argued that there was plenty of light on this eve. “Why didn’t you call her? Or the guards?”
Beads of sweat broke out on Geraldine’s cheeks. “I don’t know. Do you think it would have helped? That she wouldn’t have been killed?”
Siobhán had no intention of consoling her. She should have called the guards. “Did you see anyone snooping around the cottage? Did you hear glass breaking?”
“Is it the window you’re on about?”
“’Tis.”
“I didn’t hear it break. I noticed it the next morning when I passed the cottage.”
“You didn’t knock then, see if she was home? See if she was alright?”
Geraldine dropped her basket and sheers and took off her gloves. She wiped her brow. “I thought she was playing a trick on me.” Her lip quivered. “That’s why I didn’t check on her. And I’ll regret it the rest of me life.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“A trick?”
“Yes. First she insists she’s going to spend the night by the fairy tree—”
“Insists?”
“I’m not saying any more.”
“It could help catch a killer.”
“I’ve told you all I know. You didn’t know Ellen. But she wasn’t the type who wanted neighborly help. I knew whatever went on that night was either a trick that she orchestrated herself, or it was the work of the fairies. When I found out she was dead, I had my answer.”
“I see. I hope you’ll tell the guards the unvarnished truth.”
“You want the truth? That cottage is coming down now even if I have to set it on fire myself.”
“I wouldn’t advise that.”
“If you want to catch Ellen Delaney’s killer, you should start with her stalker.”
Despite the sun beating down on them, the words sent a chill through Siobhán. “Stalker?”
“Yes, didn’t Jane mention it?” Geraldine frowned. “Or did Ellen tell me not to mention it to Jane? Was she keeping her out of it? I forget.”
“What do you remember?”
“Ellen said something about a man in Waterford who wouldn’t leave her alone. She said he showed up everywhere—the post office, the market, even followed her to her doctor’s appointment one day. She was so afraid of him that she left town.” Geraldine sighed. “And yet, she died anyway. Maybe when it’s your time, it doesn’t matter how you go, just that you go.”
If everyone had that attitude, justice would never be done. “Did she say anything else about this stalker?”
Geraldine cocked her head. “Like what?”
“Like who he was? Like if she ever saw him here in Ballysiogdun. Like—did she call the guards?”
“I can see you’re disappointed in me for not asking. You see, I didn’t even know whether or not I believed her. I mean . . . she’s not your typical stalking victim, is she?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by that.”
“She wasn’t some pretty young thing. If you told me you had a stalker, or several, I’d believe you. But her? Why on earth would anyone be following her around, like?”