ON MY WAY back into town I rang Kelly, but he didn’t pick up. I’d try again later. What I wanted to say didn’t feel appropriate for a voice message.
When I stopped in the square to buy a newspaper, the town had a busy, bustly Saturday-morning feel about it. I narrowly avoided a head-on collision in the doorway of the shop with a large pink creature laden down with two shopping bags.
“Sorry about that. Always have been a bit on the clumsy side.”
“Morning, Phyllis. Not in the book shop this morning?”
She made a face. “I have my nephew doing Saturday mornings for me as a favor to my brother, but he’s driving me up the wall. I had to get out of there, but now I’m away I’m convinced he’s going to burn the place down.”
I grinned. “That seems a bit unlikely, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not so sure. Not a difficult thing to do with a book shop, you know, and he’s perfectly capable of it. I keep catching him smoking out the back.”
“Ah.”
“Have you got a second?” she whispered.
I nodded and she beckoned me to the window of the wool shop next door, dumped her bags on the footpath, and let out a long breath.
“You haven’t heard anything more about that Whitewater business, have you?” she asked. “If they know whether it’s Conor Devitt or not?”
“I haven’t. The tests take a few days, I think.”
“Oh dear.”
“Why?” I asked.
She lowered her voice even further. “Well, it’s wee Danny.”
“Danny?”
“Danny Devitt, Claire’s brother. I’ve just seen him. He’s drunk – and it’s not even midday. I don’t think he’s handling it very well.”
I remembered Claire’s comments on the beach the day before.
Phyllis looked anxious. “I don’t really know him but I wondered if there was something I should do. He’s always been a bit odd; he might not welcome any interference.”
“How old is he?” I asked.
She gave it some thought before replying. “Thirty-six, give or take a year or two?”
I smiled. “He’s an adult, Phyllis, I’m afraid. He’s free to have a drink if he wants to. And it’s kind of understandable this weekend. Where did you see him?”
“Just going into the Oak.”
“Tony’ll take care of him. He’s not going to serve him if he’s in a bad way. He’ll probably even drive him home.”
“Aye, I suppose you’re right. Only I feel a bit helpless.”
“I know what you mean. I met Claire on the beach yesterday. What’s the story with their father, by the way? She talked about her mother but she didn’t mention him.”
Phyllis’ face fell. “Jack Devitt? Oh, he’s dead. He committed suicide years ago – shot himself with his own shotgun. God, it was awfully sad. I think it was wee Danny who found him in one of the outhouses. Poor kid …” She trailed off. Something was distracting her on the other side of the road. My eyes followed hers.
“So they’re back,” she said thoughtfully.
“Who’s back?”
She gestured towards a tall, dark-haired man going into the Oak. “That’s Alan Crane. Lisa McCauley’s new husband.”
I tried to call Raymond Kelly again before I set off for Derry, but there was still no answer. For the first ten minutes, driving conditions were actually okay. Maeve was right: the main roads had all been gritted and the temperature had risen, meaning that the snow was starting to melt anyway. However, by the time I reached the coast road, the sky had darkened ominously and it started to sleet. Dirty, icy rain splashed down on the windscreen quicker than the Mini’s wipers could clear it. I drove along at a snail’s pace, struggling to see out through the brown sludge.
I decided to drive via Buncrana on the off chance I could catch Kelly at his pub. It would save me chasing him on his mobile all weekend. The rain finally stopped as I arrived and parked in the main street of Buncrana, a large town about ten miles from Glendara. For a pub along this stretch, Kelly’s was pretty grand. It looked as if it might once have been an old bank or public building.
The owners had used the whole premises, all three floors. There was a fine old mirrored bar downstairs with booths and leather seating, brass lighting, and an impressive staircase leading to the upper two floors. A sign on the wall indicated a restaurant upstairs. A Miles Davis tune played quietly in the background.
The bar was empty of customers. I looked at my watch. It was early, twelve o’clock. There were two people behind the bar: a young barman of about eighteen with spiky black hair, in black trousers and a white shirt, and a woman. They were having a laugh as they polished glasses and filled the dispensers.
The woman saw me and came over. Her black hair was tied loosely at her neck. She was striking, with heavy dark eyes and a full mouth. Tiny lines under her eyes only served to make her look even more intriguing. She was one of those rare specimens for whom age is not the enemy.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“Nothing, thanks. This is Raymond Kelly’s bar, isn’t it?”
“It is. I’m his wife, Alison.” She spoke with a hint of an American lilt. I realized it was a similar rounding of consonants that gave her husband’s accent its distinctive quality, though I thought his had something extra.
“I’ve spoken to you on the phone, but we haven’t met. I’m Ben O’Keeffe.”
The woman gave me a smile, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “You’re the solicitor? Ray’s mentioned you. This is my son, Trevor.”
The boy with the spiky hair shot me a grin. He had his mother’s looks. Lucky boy.
“I was wondering if I could have a quick word with Mr. Kelly.”
“Sure. He’s in the office pretending to do paperwork. No doubt he’ll be glad of the interruption.”
Alison emerged from behind the bar and led me down the back of the building towards a door marked Private. I liked the feel of the place, even empty. I said so.
“Thanks,” Alison replied. “We really wanted this one to work, and it’s doing well. It’s our third. We also have two pubs in the west, and one in London, too, that I try to check up on a couple of times a year. But I’m sure Ray’s told you all that.”
“Well, no actually. I’ve done very little for him so far, to be honest. He just asked me to have a look at a possible remortgage on the church and said he might have some more work for me after that.”
She smiled, a knowing sort of smile. “He does that. He’s not too happy with the solicitor we’ve been using in Buncrana so he thought he’d give you a go. Liam recommended you.” She put a hand in front of her mouth in a mock whisper. “You’re on probation.”
I grinned. “Fair enough.”
“We’ve a couple of other properties that Liam is selling for us though. Ray will probably get you to act for him in those.” She sighed. “If they ever sell in this financial climate.”
“Well, this place looks great.”
“I think so.” She looked around her. “We brought the bar over from the States, and some of the lighting. And we have the restaurant, of course.” She indicated upstairs. “Great chef. You should try it sometime. He’s particularly good with fish.”
She pushed open the door and led me down a narrow hallway cluttered with drinks crates and cardboard boxes to a second door marked Office. Here, she knocked briefly and without waiting for an answer walked in whilst I hovered outside. Through the gap I could see that her husband was sitting at a desk completely buried in paper, punching numbers into a calculator with some force, an expression of abject misery on his face.
“Visitor for you, Ray,” she told him. “I said you’d be very upset to be dragged away from your beloved accounts.”
She perched on the desk in front of him and beckoned me in. Kelly peered around her and caught sight of me for the first time. His face registered momentary surprise and then his features clouded again, as if reminded of something unpleasant. I didn’t take it personally. Solicitors aren’t always welcome. Still, he managed to force a smile and waved his hand in the direction of a seat on the other side of the desk, which I took.
“Sorry to interrupt. I have a bit of news for you,” I said.
“Hope it’s better than the last news I got.”
“It is. I wanted to let you know they’ve finished with the church for the moment. I’ve just come from there.”
“Nice of them to tell me,” he grumbled.
“Well, they only finished this morning. I’m sure you’ll get a call later on.”
“What have they found out?” he asked.
“Not a lot, I don’t think. They’re still working on identification.”
“So they don’t know who it is yet?” That was Alison.
“Not yet,” I replied. “There’s a possibility it could be a man named Conor Devitt. He disappeared a number of years ago. They’re doing DNA testing with his family to make sure one way or the other.”
Alison nodded. “We heard that.” She shuddered.
“Did you know him?” I asked, surprised.
“Oh, not really. Well, a little,” she said quietly. “We knew each other when we were children.”
Her husband touched her gently on the arm. “They were school friends.”
“I went to Whitewater primary school for a while, that little school on the way up to the church? It’s a ruin now, too.”
“So you’re local?” I asked. “I assumed …”
“You’re wondering about the accent?” She smiled. “My parents are Irish-American. They came back to Inishowen for a few years when my sister and I were kids. I was the new kid in school, the Yank …” She looked down. “And Conor was nice to me. Kinda like a big brother. One of those good kids that notices the shy ones, you know? But my parents couldn’t make it work in Donegal. They ran a shop, but it closed down.”
“Seems neither of them had their daughter’s head for business. Kept giving out credit apparently,” Kelly added with a grin. “Couldn’t see you doing that, eh, Alison?”
Alison ignored him. “They only stayed for a few years and then we all moved back to the States. Broke my heart.”
Kelly put his arm around her and kissed her shoulder. “It’s just as well you did or you’d never have met me.”
“You met each other in the States?” I asked.
“Yeah – Boston. I spent a long time there learning the pub trade,” Kelly said. “We came back, what,” he looked at Alison, “nine years ago?”
She nodded. “The three of us. We had Trevor in the States.”
“I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea, but Alison was dead set on it. And as you’ll learn, Miss O’Keeffe, my wife always gets what she wants.”
“I love that part of the world around Whitewater. It’s so beautiful up there. I never forgot it,” Alison said.
“It’s why I decided to buy the church,” Kelly explained. “Not my best business decision, I have to say. We thought we might be able to do something with it, naively as it turned out. Something for the community.” He sighed. “And then this happens.”
“You didn’t know Mr. Devitt yourself, then?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I never met him.”
Alison picked up a pen from the desk and started to draw lines on a sheet of paper. “Imagine, they think that might be him – in our church. Weird, isn’t it? What on earth was he doing there, I wonder?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “Assuming it is him, of course. They don’t know that for certain yet. They’re still doing tests.”
“Is there anything we can do for the family?” she asked.
“I don’t think so, to be honest. They just have to wait for the results,” I said.
Alison leaned in towards her husband and rested her head on his shoulder. I noticed there was quite an age gap. Kelly was a good ten years older than his wife.
“I’ll be sure to let you know if I hear anything more,” I added.
“Thank you.”
I turned to go then paused at the door. “By the way, do you still want to go ahead with the remortgage now that the sale is off? I had put it on hold when Liam told me you were selling.”
Kelly gave me an odd look. I thought I saw a flash of anger but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “No, it’s fine. I’ll leave it for the moment. Send the deeds back to the bank.”