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Authors: Sheila Connolly
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the hill on that stretch of road, and she wasn’t about to explain.
“Grand! I’ll expect you in the morning—but not too early.”
“Deal.”
The door opened again, and Harry Townsend walked in. The men in the room only glanced at him and looked away, but Maura could have sworn that Althea’s ears pricked up like a cat’s. And at the same time Gillian’s face lit up. Harry came straight to the bar. “Gillian, my love—I was wondering if you’d show up.” They exchanged what Maura would label “friend” kisses, on the cheek, though Gillian’s eyes lingered on him for a bit after.
And it was pretty clear that Althea noticed. She said something to her two companions, then stood up and came over, laying a hand on Harry’s arm. “Harry, you’re back! Did the police grill you mercilessly?”
“Nah, it wasn’t too bad. I couldn’t tell them much, after all, seeing as I was in Dublin at the time of the murder.”
“What’s going on?” Gillian interrupted.
“You haven’t heard? There’s been a death up at the house—Seamus, the gardener. He was killed by a blow to the head. Tom O’Brien found him on the lawn this morning.”
“How sad,” Gillian said and sounded like she meant it. “Do the gardaí know what happened?”
“Not yet.”
Althea, not to be distracted, said, “Harry, I’m sorry to bother you at such a difficult time, but I really need to talk to you. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure, darlin’. Gilly, I’ll ring your mobile when I know what’s what and we’ll get together, all right?”
“Fine, Harry.”
Gillian smiled, but Maura watched her gaze follow Harry and Althea to the farthest corner of the room.
Uh-oh,
Maura thought.
Gillian turned back to the bar and finished the glass in front of her. “I’d best be going—I still have masses of unpacking to do. Maura, I’ll see you in the morning. Mick, good to see you again.”
“Glad to have you back, Gillian.”
When Gillian had left, Maura turned to Mick, then tilted her head toward Harry, sitting close to Althea. “Trouble?”
Mick shrugged. “Maybe. Harry and Gillian have a long history. But it’s none of my business if Althea seems to have set her sights on Harry.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“Depends on who you ask. He’s not one for, uh, long-term relationships.”
“I don’t think that’s what Althea’s looking for,” Maura said wryly.
“No more do I,” Mick replied. “So I wouldn’t waste my time worrying on it.”
Maura agreed, then recalled something she’d meant to ask earlier. “What were you and Jimmy arguing about when I came in?”
Mick shrugged. “The same. He’s still upset about what Old Mick did, shutting him out of the will.”
“Like that’s my fault?” Maura muttered.
Mick noticed. “No, but it falls to you to keep him in line. You’re the owner here now.”
“I’ve never managed anyone in my life. You think he’d be better off somewhere else?”
“That’s not for me to say. And there’s Rose to consider.”
“I know, I know. I want to help her, but I don’t know how.” Maura looked up to see more people arriving. This was a discussion that would have to wait.
Chapter 7
T he evening passed quickly, as Maura, Mick, and Jimmy kept busy filling glasses and collecting empties. While she worked, Maura overheard snippets of information about the death, but no one seemed to have any idea who would have wanted poor Seamus Daly dead. The Townsend family received mixed reviews: most people liked Harry well enough, but he hadn’t lived here “for donkey’s years,” and the last resident Townsend, his great-aunt Eveline, had been nearly a recluse for years, so no one seemed to know her. The manor house itself, concealed from the road behind a thick forest, had been all but forgotten by local residents.
Maura also learned a bit more about the O’Briens, since they had to come out and buy supplies occasionally, although there were some
“Grand! I’ll expect you in the morning—but not too early.”
“Deal.”
The door opened again, and Harry Townsend walked in. The men in the room only glanced at him and looked away, but Maura could have sworn that Althea’s ears pricked up like a cat’s. And at the same time Gillian’s face lit up. Harry came straight to the bar. “Gillian, my love—I was wondering if you’d show up.” They exchanged what Maura would label “friend” kisses, on the cheek, though Gillian’s eyes lingered on him for a bit after.
And it was pretty clear that Althea noticed. She said something to her two companions, then stood up and came over, laying a hand on Harry’s arm. “Harry, you’re back! Did the police grill you mercilessly?”
“Nah, it wasn’t too bad. I couldn’t tell them much, after all, seeing as I was in Dublin at the time of the murder.”
“What’s going on?” Gillian interrupted.
“You haven’t heard? There’s been a death up at the house—Seamus, the gardener. He was killed by a blow to the head. Tom O’Brien found him on the lawn this morning.”
“How sad,” Gillian said and sounded like she meant it. “Do the gardaí know what happened?”
“Not yet.”
Althea, not to be distracted, said, “Harry, I’m sorry to bother you at such a difficult time, but I really need to talk to you. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure, darlin’. Gilly, I’ll ring your mobile when I know what’s what and we’ll get together, all right?”
“Fine, Harry.”
Gillian smiled, but Maura watched her gaze follow Harry and Althea to the farthest corner of the room.
Uh-oh,
Maura thought.
Gillian turned back to the bar and finished the glass in front of her. “I’d best be going—I still have masses of unpacking to do. Maura, I’ll see you in the morning. Mick, good to see you again.”
“Glad to have you back, Gillian.”
When Gillian had left, Maura turned to Mick, then tilted her head toward Harry, sitting close to Althea. “Trouble?”
Mick shrugged. “Maybe. Harry and Gillian have a long history. But it’s none of my business if Althea seems to have set her sights on Harry.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“Depends on who you ask. He’s not one for, uh, long-term relationships.”
“I don’t think that’s what Althea’s looking for,” Maura said wryly.
“No more do I,” Mick replied. “So I wouldn’t waste my time worrying on it.”
Maura agreed, then recalled something she’d meant to ask earlier. “What were you and Jimmy arguing about when I came in?”
Mick shrugged. “The same. He’s still upset about what Old Mick did, shutting him out of the will.”
“Like that’s my fault?” Maura muttered.
Mick noticed. “No, but it falls to you to keep him in line. You’re the owner here now.”
“I’ve never managed anyone in my life. You think he’d be better off somewhere else?”
“That’s not for me to say. And there’s Rose to consider.”
“I know, I know. I want to help her, but I don’t know how.” Maura looked up to see more people arriving. This was a discussion that would have to wait.
Chapter 7
T he evening passed quickly, as Maura, Mick, and Jimmy kept busy filling glasses and collecting empties. While she worked, Maura overheard snippets of information about the death, but no one seemed to have any idea who would have wanted poor Seamus Daly dead. The Townsend family received mixed reviews: most people liked Harry well enough, but he hadn’t lived here “for donkey’s years,” and the last resident Townsend, his great-aunt Eveline, had been nearly a recluse for years, so no one seemed to know her. The manor house itself, concealed from the road behind a thick forest, had been all but forgotten by local residents.
Maura also learned a bit more about the O’Briens, since they had to come out and buy supplies occasionally, although there were some
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