Read Online Scandal in Skibbereen by Sheila Connolly - Free Book Online

find out soon enough that Mick couldn’t help her—at least, she didn’t think so—but in the meantime, Maura was hungry, and as she’d said to Althea, it was probably going to be a long night.
    Mick and Althea didn’t notice her leaving. She walked across the street to the inn, which was moderately crowded, and found herself a stool at the bar. Ann was filling glasses, but when she had a free moment she came over to say hello. “You’ll be wanting supper?”
    “Yeah. Whatever’s easy—I like your soup, and your bread.”
    “Done.” Ann darted into the kitchen.
    While she waited, Maura watched the crowd. Not so different from the people at Sullivan’s—more men than women in the bar area, some couples, some groups of men. The ages were a mix of old and youngish, although few people her own age. Where were all the twenty-somethings? Skibbereen? Or were they all off looking for work somewhere else, somewhere there were actually jobs? She’d heard a lot of younger people had gone off to Australia, since there was nothing for them in Ireland.
    Ann returned a couple of minutes later with a steaming bowl of vegetable soup and a plate loaded with brown bread. “Where’s your friend?”
    “Althea? Not, repeat,
not
my friend. She just walked into the pub yesterday. Now the gardaí are looking at her for that murder at Mycroft House.”
    Ann snorted. “Her, kill someone! Sure and she’d find a man to do the work for her.”
    Maura smiled. “You feel that way too? Well, I can’t blame the guards for talking to her, because I told them that she really wants to get into Mycroft House—she thinks there might be an important painting in there somewhere.”
    “I’ve heard that Florence O’Brien shut the door on her.”
    “How does everyone know everything so fast around here? I only just heard.”
    “Tom O’Brien stopped in for a pint earlier.”
    “Why is it he stops in here, rather than at Sullivan’s? I don’t think I’ve met him.”
    Ann shrugged. “Habit, maybe? He’s not much of one for the pint, and his wife keeps him on a short lead.”
    “Did he say anything useful? Like, does he have an idea who might have killed Seamus?”
    “Poor man, no. I don’t think Florence lets Tom think—she does it all for him. It was brave of him to come in for that pint. He told Florence he needed something from the hardware store up the road. But they were good to Seamus, the two of them. Looked out for him. He’ll be missed. The gardens there are huge—so big they can’t even care for them all—and Seamus worked for little more than his room and board and some pocket money. They’ll not replace him easily.”
    “Sounds like it’s expensive to keep the place going.”
    “That it is. The old families, they built on a grand scale, knowing they had the staff to take care of it all. Now . . . there’s no money left and no one who wants that kind of work—they’d rather run computers in a city somewhere.” Ann leaned closer and said, “Everyone’s waiting for Eveline Townsend to die.”
    “That’s sad,” Maura said. “What do they think will happen then? Does Harry inherit the place?”
    “She has lifetime rights, but he’ll be glad to wash his hands of it, I’m sure. And there’s hope that whoever buys it will bring some money into the village. I will say, Harry’s been good to her, for all that he’s not around much.”
    “You know that Harry’s arrived?”
    “Has he, now? You’ve seen him?”
    “Uh, yeah. He came into the pub. He’s hard to miss.”
    “He is that. Half the girls in the village have made a run at him, with no luck.”
    “He isn’t, uh, gay, is he?”
    “From all that I’ve heard, no.” Ann laughed. “But he has no plans to live here—he likes the city. Sure and there’ll be some broken hearts in the village if he ever settles down.” Ann shook herself. “I’d better tend to business. Enjoy your supper.”
    As she ate, Maura pondered. So Harry Townsend was