Read Online Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) by K. Francis Ryan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: K. Francis Ryan
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real hurry. Life, they knew, was best met head on and with a steady, tireless pace.
Greetings were exchanged and good-natured banter ensued as someone approached the men from the opposite direction. Footsteps neared the flagstone path leading to the front door of the police station. Julian sat behind the desk and waited.
A ginger haired man in his 60s in a suit and tie with a bowler hat and a satin sash running across his chest like a bandolier filled the doorway. The Mayor of Cappel Vale, all five foot four inches of him, actually took up a fair bit of space. He peered into the gloom of the police station like a myopic bat until his eyes lighted on Julian.
“Ah, sur, it is full of apologies Oi am. The press of business kept me busy all the day and even then, Mrs. Hagan neglected to tell me of your presence. It was a good talking to Oi was after givin’ her for this oversight.”
Julian could smell the whiskey coming off the Mayor from across the room.
“I am glad you could make the time to see me, Mr. Mayor.”
The Mayor beamed and seemed to draw on hidden resources to push him to a full height of five foot five inches.
“And who would it be me honor to address?”
“My name is Julian Blessing.”
“Blessing. Blessing. Oi believe there may have been a family of Blessings in the village of Flicks, but that was many years ago.”
“My people are not from Ireland. I am just visiting.”
“It is odd visiting you would be doing to find yourself in a place like Cappel Vale. You may have noticed we are not exactly the sun and fun spot the Western World claims we are.”
Julian smiled as the Mayor continued. “Mrs. Hagan – the poor dear woman is distraught over the tongue lashing Oi gave her – mentioned you were in need of accommodations in our little village. Oi must tell you that nothing springs immediately to mind, but if you would like to repair to me office, mayhaps a thought will come to me. Leave your things here and come along with me.”
Shadows had lengthened into night and a chill was in the air. Julian picked up his jacket and towering over the Mayor, the two headed up the narrow main street now lit from the edges by the lights of the village pubs and cottages.
“We’ll go to O’Gavagan’s and a lovely pub it is too,” the Mayor said as he took off his sash and folded it neatly before depositing it in his suit coat pocket.
“Which one?” Julian asked.
“Which one what?” the Mayor answered.
“O’Gavagan’s Pub – which one? I noticed there were two.”
“Doubtless you noticed there are a number of such establishments in our small village. Some of the village people congregate at O’Gavagan’s Pub while another group gravitates to the other O’Gavagan’s Pub. Still others will be seen at Mulherin’s Pub.”
Confused, Julian looked for clarification. “There are two pubs…”
“Well there are three pubs actually, but let’s not quibble.”
“Three pubs and two of them are named O’Gavagan’s. Are they owned by brothers or something?”
“Lord, no,” the Mayor chuckled good-naturedly. “If they were owned by two brothers one would be Tom’s and t’other would be Sean’s don’t you see?”
“Well then, who owns O’Gavagan’s?”
“O’Gavagan does. Pardon my sayin’ so, but I was led to believe you might be somewhat brighter than this, lad. And wasn’t it I who defended you when Mrs. Hagan said you might be an eejit of some sort?”
Julian knew there had to be sense hidden somewhere in the Mayor’s logic, but he would be damned if he could find it. “So the same man owns two pubs and each one is called O’Gavagan’s. Then if someone were to say, ‘I’ll see you at O’Gavagan’s’ how would either know where to go?” Things were becoming murkier by the moment and Julian found himself looking increasingly like the idiot others claimed him to be.
“Forget O’Gavagan,” the mayor said. “He doesn’t matter. What does matter is which
Greetings were exchanged and good-natured banter ensued as someone approached the men from the opposite direction. Footsteps neared the flagstone path leading to the front door of the police station. Julian sat behind the desk and waited.
A ginger haired man in his 60s in a suit and tie with a bowler hat and a satin sash running across his chest like a bandolier filled the doorway. The Mayor of Cappel Vale, all five foot four inches of him, actually took up a fair bit of space. He peered into the gloom of the police station like a myopic bat until his eyes lighted on Julian.
“Ah, sur, it is full of apologies Oi am. The press of business kept me busy all the day and even then, Mrs. Hagan neglected to tell me of your presence. It was a good talking to Oi was after givin’ her for this oversight.”
Julian could smell the whiskey coming off the Mayor from across the room.
“I am glad you could make the time to see me, Mr. Mayor.”
The Mayor beamed and seemed to draw on hidden resources to push him to a full height of five foot five inches.
“And who would it be me honor to address?”
“My name is Julian Blessing.”
“Blessing. Blessing. Oi believe there may have been a family of Blessings in the village of Flicks, but that was many years ago.”
“My people are not from Ireland. I am just visiting.”
“It is odd visiting you would be doing to find yourself in a place like Cappel Vale. You may have noticed we are not exactly the sun and fun spot the Western World claims we are.”
Julian smiled as the Mayor continued. “Mrs. Hagan – the poor dear woman is distraught over the tongue lashing Oi gave her – mentioned you were in need of accommodations in our little village. Oi must tell you that nothing springs immediately to mind, but if you would like to repair to me office, mayhaps a thought will come to me. Leave your things here and come along with me.”
Shadows had lengthened into night and a chill was in the air. Julian picked up his jacket and towering over the Mayor, the two headed up the narrow main street now lit from the edges by the lights of the village pubs and cottages.
“We’ll go to O’Gavagan’s and a lovely pub it is too,” the Mayor said as he took off his sash and folded it neatly before depositing it in his suit coat pocket.
“Which one?” Julian asked.
“Which one what?” the Mayor answered.
“O’Gavagan’s Pub – which one? I noticed there were two.”
“Doubtless you noticed there are a number of such establishments in our small village. Some of the village people congregate at O’Gavagan’s Pub while another group gravitates to the other O’Gavagan’s Pub. Still others will be seen at Mulherin’s Pub.”
Confused, Julian looked for clarification. “There are two pubs…”
“Well there are three pubs actually, but let’s not quibble.”
“Three pubs and two of them are named O’Gavagan’s. Are they owned by brothers or something?”
“Lord, no,” the Mayor chuckled good-naturedly. “If they were owned by two brothers one would be Tom’s and t’other would be Sean’s don’t you see?”
“Well then, who owns O’Gavagan’s?”
“O’Gavagan does. Pardon my sayin’ so, but I was led to believe you might be somewhat brighter than this, lad. And wasn’t it I who defended you when Mrs. Hagan said you might be an eejit of some sort?”
Julian knew there had to be sense hidden somewhere in the Mayor’s logic, but he would be damned if he could find it. “So the same man owns two pubs and each one is called O’Gavagan’s. Then if someone were to say, ‘I’ll see you at O’Gavagan’s’ how would either know where to go?” Things were becoming murkier by the moment and Julian found himself looking increasingly like the idiot others claimed him to be.
“Forget O’Gavagan,” the mayor said. “He doesn’t matter. What does matter is which
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