Chapter Eleven
Rose was not at all contrite about spooking Lucy Gilroy. “I had to tell the truth,” she said. “There’s a darkness hanging over her.”
“They have a big night coming up,” Tara said. “They’re filming a mock ritual at the Cave of the Cats on Halloween Eve.”
Rose was packing up to go home, putting her cards away, and blowing out candles. “I almost forgot,” she said, entering the shop. She held up a bronze key. It looked identical to the one Tara had found in her cupcake.
“How will we make sure the killer is the one who gets the key?” Tara asked.
“Murderers are like lovers,” Rose said. “When you find the right one, you’ll know.” She patted Tara on the back and left without another word.
It was five minutes until meeting time when Tara received an unexpected text:
We’ve changed the meeting place. Riverbank to say a prayer for Val Sharkey. Galway Cathedral. Bring a candle.
* * *
“No,” Danny said. He’d just returned to the shop and she had shown him the text. “Never let them take you to a second location.”
“They’re not kidnapping me,” Tara said. “It’s a meeting that I arranged.”
“Then they shouldn’t be changing the location at the last minute.”
“I’m going,” Tara said. “But you can come with me.”
“Now you’re talking.” Danny was always up for a secret adventure. It was one of the check marks in the “Things Tara Loved about Danny O’Donnell” column. It helped distract her from the “Things Tara Can’t Stand about Danny O’Donnell” column.
“Let’s go,” she said. “We’re already late.” She headed for the door.
“I thought we were taking your broom,” Danny yelled after her.
* * *
The impressive Galway Cathedral, situated near the River Corrib, sat on the site of the old city prison, and it was one of the last great stone cathedrals built in Europe. A Renaissance style was evident in the dome and pillars, and other features included mosaics and rose windows, and the stained glass was stunning. Tara loved the old cathedral, even if she wasn’t a frequent visitor. The dome was an iconic part of Galway City’s skyline. A faded plaque was embedded into a section of the car park, and every time Tara visited she gravitated toward it. She and Danny were early, and this time their Halloween costumes were that of a nun and a priest. Danny had paid three hundred euro to a couple of drunk lads in the pub to get the costumes. Tara was just praying that no one in the Samhain Six would be the wiser, let alone any nuns or priests within the cathedral. But given there were no structures to hide behind, hopefully they could get close enough to the group to eavesdrop without alarming them. Tara stood over the plaque dedicated to the old prison. She always read it whenever she visited, and today she was joined by Danny as she thought of all those people from long ago:
THIS MARKS THE BURIAL PLACE
OF ALL WHO DIED
OR WERE EXECUTED
IN
THE OLD GAOL OF GALWAY
(1810–1939)
ON WHICH SITE
THE CATHEDRAL NOW STANDS
ETERNAL REST GRANT UNTO THEM O’LORD
Tara took a moment to honor the past. Humans, no matter what time period in history, had always faced deep sorrows. Every human suffered. It made Tara want to work that much harder to appreciate the joys.
“They’re here,” Danny said. She turned to see the members of the group emerging from two cars. As requested in the text, several of them were holding candles. But instead of making their way to the church, the group turned to make their way to the river.
“I hope we can get close enough,” Tara said.
“We’ll be subtle,” Danny said. “No sudden moves.” Although the car park was wide open, trees and stone walls were visible near the river, providing plenty of places to hide behind. They slowly followed the group, keeping a wide distance. The group stopped near the bank and tried to light candles, but they kept blowing out in the wind.
“Amateurs,” Danny said as they ducked behind a tree with overgrown hedges surrounding it.
Hannah and Ella stood together while Lucy Gilroy paced the embankment. Joe Cross was looking at his watch, and then the car park, and Tara had the feeling he was waiting for her. Riley Enright and Ferris Quinn each stood apart and slightly outside the group, like bookends in need of books. They were all a little quirky, but which one was a killer? The seamstress? The photographer? The professor? The archeologist? The spiritualist? Or the reporter?
“I don’t think she’s coming,” Joe said.
“Why did we have to meet here?” Ella whined.
“To light a candle for Val,” Lucy snapped. “He loved this cathedral.”
Several of them crossed themselves as they eyed each other. “What if Tara Meehan killed Val?” Joe Cross said. “She’s the one who inherits his estate.”
“Really?” Ferris said.
“What do you mean she inherits the estate?” Hannah said. “She said she’d only met Val that once.”
“Is that why she has no problem giving us the slate painting?” Lucy said. “Because she gets everything else?”
“Val was free to leave his estate to whomever he chose,” Riley said. “We can still be thankful she’s giving the painting.”
“She also received the key,” Joe said. “She finally admitted it to me.” Tara waited for him to add that she said she would give them that as well, but he didn’t. Did he plan on telling them or was he trying to get the key for himself? Had she been wrong about Val being followed? Had he been running to the bakery that day to give Joe Cross the key but in the last minute slipped it into the batter?
“Does she know what the key opens?” Hannah asked.
“Do you?” Joe shot back.
“Why would I?” Hannah put her hands on her hips.
“Because you’re into all that premonition stuff,” Riley said. “And I think you should really play that up on Halloween.”
Tara slipped off her nun’s costume and handed it to Danny. She removed the slate painting from a canvas bag she’d slung over her shoulder. Then she removed the bronze key that Johnny had sourced.
“Here,” Danny said. He grabbed the key, and to Tara’s surprise, he’d been hiding one of her cupcakes underneath his black robe. He dipped the key into the cupcake, then handed her the smudged key.
“Weirdo,” she said.
“Now it’s legit.” He shoved the cupcake into his mouth.
* * *
“Sorry I’m late,” Tara said. She succeeded in startling the group, especially Hannah; the one who should have seen it coming let out a yelp.
“Do you have the painting?” Lucy asked, striding over to her.
Tara held out the bag. “It’s right here.”
Lucy snatched it and the group gathered to have a look. “Thank heavens,” Lucy said.
“This will make a great prop for our big night,” Riley said.
“It’s hardly a prop,” Lucy said.
“Actually, it is,” Tara said. “I had it evaluated.”
Ella looked her up and down. “Of course you did.”
“Evaluating objects for value is my current line of work,” Tara said. “I’m afraid that is not an ancient painting, and it holds no considerable value.” Tara turned to Ella. “But you knew that, didn’t you, Ella?”
Ella’s eyes widened. “Me?”
“Are you not the artist?”
“I knew it!” Riley said. “I knew Val was trying to trick me.”
Ella sighed. “Fine. I did the painting and Val tried to sell it to Riley for five hundred euro.”
“Why?” Riley said. “That’s not nice.”
“Because all of us chipped in for this documentary but you!” Ella said.
“I am donating my valuable reporting time,” Riley said.
“Value is in the eye of the beholder,” Hannah said. “It’s still a painting that depicts the first ever Samhain Festival and I think it’s a smart move to place it in the cave.”
“I had something else for this group,” Tara said. “Only I’m not sure whom I should give it to.” She held up the bronze key. “It’s the key from my cupcake.” Joe reached for it. “This key is worthless,” Tara said. “Unless one of you knows what it opens.”
“You own the estate,” Riley said. “Why don’t you just have a look around his things?”
“When the guards are finished processing the scene, that’s what I’ll do.” She had decided she couldn’t in good conscience let the killer go after another person. She would keep the key. She would be expecting a confrontation, and she would make sure she wasn’t alone to deal with it. She took her time to look over each member. “But what do you think it opens? You must have some ideas.” One by one they looked at Riley Enright. He sighed.
“I have a source,” he said, “that claims Val Sharkey won a ton of money in a poker game. But it turns out, the player who paid out paid Val Sharkey with a family treasure that was worth ten times his debt. The family wanted it back.”
“Is this the Cue Chemicals family?” Tara asked.
Riley stepped forward. “Who told you that? I will neither confirm nor deny.”
Tara was dying to know the details.
“What treasure did Val receive?” Danny asked.
“Ten coins,” Riley said. “The rich exec thought Val should have them because the fish depicted on one side of the coin reminded him of a shark.” He looked at Tara as if waiting to see if that meant something to her.
“Okay,” Tara said.
“It’s a 1943 florin.” Tara remembered her first visit to the shop. The giant grizzly bear and what Val told her: Named her Flora . . .
“There’s a harp on one side and a fish on the other,” Riley continued. Tara recalled Val’s words: He gave me to her and a few fish to boot....
“Only thirty-five are in circulation and this yoke had ten. Val was owed about ten thousand euro and he ended up with approximately ninety-two thousand euro.”
“Why would Val give the florin over to any of you?” Tara asked. Once again Val’s own words floated back to her: Do you know the best way to get rid of snakes? . . . Make them chase their own tails.... He’d been messing with the killer, trying to drive him mad. Only this time, Val Sharkey went too far.
“He didn’t give them to us, did he?” Lucy said. “He was stringing us along.”
“But why did he pretend he was going to?” Because the killer was breathing down his neck . . . The more they talked, the clearer things were starting to become for Tara. She nearly had her lightning bug in the jar.
“He said it was to help bring attention to the Cave of the Cats,” Ella said. “With Joe’s help we wanted to do a fully fleshed documentary and help it become a UNESCO World Heritage site.”
“Val didn’t have children,” Hannah said. “He said we were the closest he had to family.”
“Apparently he was telling the truth,” Quinn said. “No one treats you worse than family.”
Lucy sighed. “Deirdre of the Sorrows, right, Professor?”
“Quite right,” Professor Quinn said.
Tara knew a little of the Irish tale. The woman whose beauty was predicted to bring sorrow and war upon the country.
“Let’s all give our prayers to Val,” Hannah said. They spread out along the river.
Tara stood next to Ferris Quinn. Deirdre of the Sorrows. . . Lucky for Tara she knew a bit about the old tale. “What a horrific death Deirdre of the Sorrows had,” Tara said, staring at the river.
“Indeed,” Quinn said. He followed Tara’s gaze. “Rivers have taken many lives,” he said. “It’s a tale as old as time.”
Tara nodded, then slipped Ferris Quinn the key. “You’re the only one I can trust,” she said. “It’s yours.”
“You trust me?” Ferris was surprised. “Why?”
“Because you’re the newest member of the group. They’re all deeply embedded.” She lowered her voice. “Corrupt.”
“Indeed. You made the right choice.”
“A professor of Celtic mythology would want what’s best for the ancient site.”
“You won’t be sorry,” Ferris said.
He was right. She wouldn’t be sorry. But hopefully, he would be.