Chapter Twelve
“We’ll set the trap,” Johnny said. “Then we’ll wait.” It was Saturday morning, the day of the parade and the morning before Halloween. They were standing in Sharkey’s. Last night Tara had given the key to the killer. She was pretty sure she came across as believable. Val’s murder was never about the slate painting, it was all about ten little coins. The 1943 florin. A hundred thousand euro inheritance that Val had won in a poker game from an executive of a chemical company, and the son was not going to stand for it. When the solicitor said the name of the chemical company, she thought it was Cue. It wasn’t. It was Q. Quinn. Ferris Quinn was the heir of Q Chemicals.
Tara had been mulling through her first meeting with Val. When she had arrived at his shop that morning, Val Sharkey knew someone was after his florin. And that someone was following Val Sharkey shortly before his murder. In order to dodge him, Val ran to Galway Bakes. He dropped a key into a batch of cupcakes that was about to slide into the oven. Tara was pretty sure Ferris followed him right into the bakery and saw him do it. And decided to play Val’s game. He claimed to want to join their group. But he needed a cover. This is when he became a professor of Celtic mythology.
But when they all received their cupcakes and none of them had received a key, he knew he had been played. And this time when he confronted Val, it was with a deadly cupcake.
Val had remained stubborn, and when he realized what was about to happen to him, he jotted down the note—Nobody likes a third wheel!!! He must have been afraid that if the killer saw his name written out, he would have taken the note.
Third wheel . . . Ferris wheel. Cue Chemicals . . . Q Chemicals. But the final clue had dropped at the riverbank. Deirdre of the Sorrows. She hadn’t drowned herself in a river—she bashed her own head against a rock. Any professor of mythology would have known that. Ferris not only had easy access to cyanide, he had the motive. He was after his father’s florins. If only Val had given them over. No amount of money was worth one’s life. And Ferris was a diabetic. Of course he didn’t eat his cupcake. Instead, he gave it a deadly little tweak and regifted it. None of it was hard evidence, but Tara knew he was the killer.
And now, they waited to catch Ferris Quinn in action. Ferris had no clue the florins were hidden in the giant grizzly or he would have already ripped it open. Hopefully he would believe that it was in the safe that Tara, Uncle Johnny, and Danny had set on the counter. Meanwhile, guards were hiding in the back storeroom. Inside the safe, Danny had rigged a bomb of sorts. But this one was made of goo. When the safe opened, there would be an explosion of nontoxic slime—that would coat the thief’s face, and give the guards time to run out and cuff him before he could make his escape.
“Time for you three to leave,” one of the guards said, as he flicked off the lights. “Do you need a torch to exit?”
“We do if you don’t want us breaking our necks,” Uncle Johnny said. Just then, the unmistakable sound of a creaking door came from downstairs.
“It’s too late,” Tara said. “He’s here.”
They all piled into the storeroom. It soon became apparent that at least one of them wasn’t a fan of deodorant. Tara held her breath, and although it felt like forever, soon they heard footsteps. Whoever it was either had a torch of his or her own, or perhaps he or she was using the light from their phone, but they could see the light and shadows bouncing along the floor. As the sound drew closer, it sounded to Tara as if there were two sets of footsteps approaching the antique safe. Tara hoped Danny’s slime experiment would work. It was a shame to put one’s special talent to waste. Tara felt Danny squeeze her hand as they heard the key slip into the lock, then the click as it turned and the groan as it opened.
The pop came first, and then the sound of not one but two people screaming. “What is that?” they heard a female say.
“It’s in my eyes,” a male said.
“Is it poison?” the female screeched. “Are we going to die?”
The guards shoved open the door and flooded the shop with light. “Don’t move,” a guard yelled. “This is An Garda Síochána and you are under arrest. You are not obliged to say anything. . . .”
As they read out their statement, Tara, Johnny, and Danny slipped out of the room. It was easy to identify Joe Cross and Lucy Gilroy even with green slime on their faces. The other guard had handed them towels to wipe their faces and assured them that it was nontoxic slime and they were not going to die. Tara couldn’t believe her eyes. Had she been wrong all along?
“We’re only guilty of breaking and entering,” Joe said.
“Not even that,” Lucy said. “We were given a key.”
“Professor Quinn gave you the key,” Tara said. He must have done some googling of his own. When he realized Deirdre of the Sorrows had not died by drowning, he’d set up Joe and Lucy to take the fall.
“He said he nicked it off you,” Lucy said.
“I gave it to him,” Tara said. “I think he’s our killer.”
“This is why you leave detecting to us,” a guard replied. “We’ve got our killers right here.”
“No,” Joe said. “Tara—you’re right. It’s not us!”
“Tell that to your solicitor,” the guard said as he cuffed Joe and Lucy.
“Help us,” Lucy said to Tara. “Please.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Tara would have to find another way to prove Ferris was the killer. But how? He was on to her now. And the guards were going to waste time focusing on Joe and Lucy.
“Don’t worry,” the guard said to Tara as they escorted Lucy Gilroy and Joe Cross out of the building. “We’ll get a confession out of them before sundown.”
* * *
The sun was sinking into the Galway Bay which meant it was nearly time for the Halloween parade. By the time the clock struck midnight, it would officially be Halloween. Tomorrow the Samhain Six—now four—would gather at the Oweynagat Cave. Tara had agreed to join. And when Val’s estate was settled, she’d donate a significant amount to their documentary. She set about closing early; she was going to attend the parade with Danny. He said he had a “spooky question” for her, and a few surprises lined up for tonight. It was also lining up to be a full moon, and Tara had agreed to put her witch costume back on for this evening. She quickly donned the hat and black dress, then added a bit of makeup—green eyeshadow and ruby-red lips. Danny arrived early, trussed up in the ridiculous bear suit.
“You’re going to be hot,” Tara said as she came out. Danny-the-bear shrugged. “Ready?”
He nodded.
“I’m really looking forward to this,” Tara said. “I need to get my mind off murder.” Danny took her hand and they headed outside. The parade had kicked off, and what a vibrant spectacle. Large sculptures and characters marched by—a giant monster puppet on strings with incredible detail, a band all dressed as zombies, a float of a haunted house, and thousands of people in costume in the audience as well as in the parade itself. The crowd thrummed with excitement and the drums vibrated in Tara’s chest. To her surprise, Danny pulled her through the crowd on the footpath and into the parade itself, and before she knew what was happening she was being jostled to the left by the monstrous puppet and sidestepping a zombie trumpet player on her right. Danny was squeezing her hand hard—too hard, and when she tried to pull it back—he yanked her to him.
That’s when she knew it wasn’t Danny. It was a monster, only this time a real one. “Help,” she yelled. But it was way too loud. Her screams were drowned out by the chaotic stew of noise. He put his arm around her throat, and that’s when she saw the pumpkin-carving knife. It was Ferris Quinn. He began to pull her through the parade, to the other side of the street and down an alley. Tara’s handbag thumped on her side. Would she be able to reach in with one hand and grab her mobile phone? Not without him noticing and knocking it out of her clumsy grip. He pulled her into a nearby alley. A lone man was leaning against a wall, smoking.
“Help!” she yelled again. The man looked away. The bear pulled harder. “Ferris!” she said. “I know it’s you.”
He came to a dead stop. She had to be careful, he had already killed once. Before he could deny it was him, she reached quickly with her free hand and whipped off the bear head. Startled, Ferris dropped her hand and the pumpkin-carving knife clattered to the ground. “Help!” Tara yelled again as she kicked the knife away. A door to the back of a pub flew open and several lads barreled out. “He’s attacking me,” Tara yelled. The lads advanced toward Ferris. He glared at Tara, then he ran. Tara watched as the lads overtook him and brought him down to the ground.
“Let me go, let me go!”
Tara caught up. The lads continued to hold him as he thrashed on the ground. “I’m calling the guards,” Tara said. She pressed Record on her phone. “Your father is the executive of Q Chemicals. You’re not a professor. You wanted your florin back.”
Ferris Quinn snarled. “Who do you think you are? A guard? I’ll just deny it.”
“You were the last to join the Samhain Six. You told them you were a Celtic scholar, yet you didn’t even know the story of Deirdre of the Sorrows.”
“Lying about what one does for a living doesn’t make one a killer.”
“No. But you had the motive and access to cyanide. I’m sure there is some method of accounting for chemicals at the company, even if it is the heir who took it.”
“I just want what’s mine. Where’s my florin?”
“They were eaten by a bear.”
“Liar!”
“What do giant grizzly bears eat, Ferris?” She leaned down. “They eat little fishies.”
Ferris’s eyes bulged as understanding dawned. He pleaded with the lads still holding him down. “Let me go and I’ll split the treasure with you.”
The lads looked at each other.
“He murdered Val Sharkey to get it,” Tara said. “He wouldn’t hesitate to murder both of you.”
The lads held him tighter.
Ferris stopped struggling. “Tricks,” he said. “All I got for Halloween this year were tricks.”