Read Online Murder at the Monks' Table by Carol Anne O'Marie - Free Book Online

join the poor man on the toilet. He must have felt her eyes on him, for he looked up suddenly, frowning. Their eyes met and he became paler still.
If he ever tried to kill anyone,
Mary Helen thought,
the poor devil would probably keel over, right on top of his victim.
    Next to him sat Tommy Burns, Mr. Death. A bruise near his left eye was beginning to darken. It must be where he’d fallen in the field.
It couldn’t be he,
she thought. He was all tied up. She fought down the nervous urge to laugh at her own unexpected pun.
    Beside Tommy was the parish priest, Father Keane. His gray curly hair was still damp from the rain, which seemed to have stopped as suddenly as it began. At least, Mary Helen could no longer hear it battering the roof.
    Surely it couldn’t be Father Keane,
she thought. He seemed such a good-natured fellow. Besides, he had gone to find Owen Lynch and then Tommy Burns after he’d met Eileen and herself in the field.
    Nor could it be Hugh Ryan, the publican. He was behind the bar all evening, wasn’t he? Drawing pints, chatting up the patrons.
    â€œAnd who found the poor blighter?” Inspector White’s question startled Mary Helen. She hadn’t heard him come down the hall. It took her a moment to catch her breath and respond. “I did, Inspector,” she admitted.
    â€œAnd who might you be?” White’s brown eyes were not unkind.
    â€œThis is one of the nuns on holiday from America,” Father Keane spoke up.
    â€œAnd she looks well able to speak for herself, Father,” White said without taking his eyes off her.
    Sister Mary Helen thought she was going to like this man. “Indeed, I am,” she said, adjusting her bifocals, which had the annoying tendency to slip down the bridge of her nose. She swore she would get contact lenses one of these days. “I found Mr. Ward when I went to use the …” She hesitated.
Toilet
sounded a bit indecorous and
restroom
surely did not fill the bill. She pointed down the hallway.
    â€œDidn’t you think it odd to find him in the ladies’?”
    â€œI thought it odd to find him dead at all, Inspector,” she said. “After that, I never gave much thought to where I found him.”
    Inspector White grinned.
    â€œErnie,” Detective Inspector Reedy called, emerging from the hallway. “I’ve notified the lads from forensics,” he said. “They’re on their way.”
    â€œHugh,” a voice called from outside. “Are ye open?” The question was followed by two heavy bangs on the door.
    â€œThe gala must be breaking up.” Lynch stood and ran a finger around his shirt collar, as if he were choking. “Patsy will be wild with worry. The streets will be mobbed and the lot of them will be wondering what happened….” His voice trailed off.
    â€œNot a’tall.” Detective Inspector Reedy nodded to the two gardai, who immediately left the pub.
    It seemed implausible to Mary Helen that he expected these two youngsters to control hundreds of revelers. She must have looked uneasy.
    â€œThe locals are a friendly lot,” Inspector White said. “Just curious, is all. After a few minutes they’ll all totter on home.”
    Despite the shouting and catcalling, after a few minutes Mary Helen heard car engines begin to rev and tires hiss on the wet macadam. Conversation and laughter grew fainter and fainter, and two tenors singing “Danny Boy” faded into the distance.
    â€œDid any one of you touch anything before we arrived?” Detective Inspector Reedy asked, slipping his cell phone into his raincoat pocket.
    â€œI gave the poor man the Last Rites,” Father Keane said. “I touched the holy oils to his eyes, lips, and ears.”
    â€œWhat about his hands and feet? Aren’t you supposed to anoint those, too?” Reedy asked.
    The priest’s face flushed. “Technically,” he said, “but Willie and I