Irish Secrets (11 page)

He parked on the grass verge of the main road about a hundred yards from the junction, and strode down the narrower lane to the open gateway of Mist Na Mara. There were over a dozen vehicles in the visitors' car park near the gate, presumably belonging to the residents attending the arts weekend Kara had mentioned.

After a quick check to ascertain no one was approaching the car park from the house, he slid through the gap in the shrubbery he'd used the previous week.

His eyes widened at the sight of the scaffolding that had been erected around the cottage. Obviously the restoration work was about to start and, judging by the poor state of the roof, it would take some time. The big question was whether the stolen goods would be stored inside while the repairs were carried out.

He surveyed the area, searching for a hiding place. A few yards to the left of the end wall of the cottage, the remains of an old dry stone wall, about three feet high in places where it hadn't collapsed, would shield him from view, but wouldn't give him the opportunity to take any photos. Behind it, however, were more shrubs. He stepped over a crumbling section of the wall and pushed his way between the bushes.

Eventually he found a spot behind a couple of shrubs, and crouched down, with one knee resting on the damp soil to steady himself. From this vantage point, he could see through the branches and leaves to the area at the front of the cottage where he'd noticed the tyre tracks. The ground there was now far more churned up than he'd seen it the previous week, presumably from the truck that must have delivered the scaffolding.

He checked his watch. Seven-fifty-five a.m. Paddy's name was on the list for the run to Roscommon today so, assuming he was being dropped off at the taxi office at eight as usual, the white van should arrive here in about fifteen minutes.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and tried a few shots through different gaps in the leaves, moving one small branch sideways to give him a better view.

He settled to wait, and wished he'd brought something to kneel on when the damp seeped through the thick fabric of his jeans. Who would have guessed that being a cop was a sure way to develop rheumatism?

Exactly fifteen minutes later, he heard the unmistakable sound of a diesel engine approaching. Easing himself up from his low crouch to a position where he could see through the bushes to the front of the cottage, he waited and listened. The vehicle approached and passed him, travelling down the lane behind him which he couldn't see because of the thick shrubs. It seemed to be heading for Leary's farm instead of turning into the grounds of Mist Na Mara.

Then the sound became louder again, and a couple of minutes later, the white van appeared at the front of the cottage. Okay, so that meant there must be some access from the farm.

He took a quick photo, and ducked down when the engine was switched off and both doors opened.

"Start unloading the stuff," a man's voice said. "And for
Jaysus
' sake, don't drop any of the boxes, Tommy."

He ventured a peek through the branches and recognised Conor, who was surveying the roof, now wearing denim dungarees instead of his expensive suit. A younger man, no more than about seventeen or eighteen, opened the back doors of the van and started to lift cardboard boxes out.

As he took several photos, it occurred to him that this was a futile exercise. There was nothing incriminating about a builder and his mate unloading building supplies outside a cottage that was clearly in need of repair.

When Conor and the youth went inside, he eased upright, ready to make a quick dash from his hiding place back to the car park. He froze when another figure appeared from the direction of the farm. The man, with longish sandy hair flopping on his forehead, stopped near the van and looked across at the bushes.

Ryan didn't even dare to breathe. Had he been spotted?

He let out his breath when the man turned to look in the opposite direction, and then lifted a box from the back of the van.

"You forgot this one," he called as he headed for the cottage door, carrying the box.

Ryan managed to get a photo of the man's profile as he reached the door, but knew it was too hasty a shot to be of any real use.

He waited a few seconds before sprinting the few yards to the gap leading to the car park, and praying no one would hear him or come out of the cottage.

As he drove back to Clifden, he grunted in frustration. Somehow he had to find a way of getting into the cottage when no one was there, to see what the cardboard boxes contained.

Chapter 11

At ten o'clock on Monday morning, Kara joined the rest of the Living History group in the hallway to say goodbye to their guests. It had been a good weekend, everyone gelled together well, and even her own drama workshop was well-received, despite her initial nervousness.

Once the last guest left, Guy gave a satisfied smile as he turned to them. "Congratulations, everyone. I think that's one of the best weekends we've ever done, so many thanks to you all. Oh, and another piece of good news is that the scaffolding went up over the weekend at the cottage, and Conor is starting work on the roof this week."

"When will it be ready?" Maria asked.

"He's not sure how long it will take. A lot will depend on the weather while they replace the roof, and I'm keeping everything crossed that they won't find any dry or wet rot or any other problems to cause more delays. When I gave the contract to Conor in February, I hoped we could get this project up and running by the start of the summer season, but for various reasons, we haven't been able to do that. Now we're aiming to have it completed by the end of this month."

"It's given us more time to learn about the traditional crafts," Liz said. "And to find the furniture, too. Conor gave me the name of an antique dealer, so I've sent him a list of what we need."

"Excellent." Guy glanced at his watch. "Okay, I need to go down to the cottage now, but you all deserve at least this morning off after working non-stop for three days."

"No chance of that," Liz grumbled as she and Kara walked along the corridor to the staff room. "I have to mend my dress before this afternoon's presentations. I tore the skirt frill when I caught my heel in it, and I hate sewing."

"I'll do it," Kara offered. "I don't mind sewing. It's quite therapeutic."

"Would you? Oh, you're an angel! It'll give me the chance to pop down to the cottage to see Conor."

Kara grinned. "That's convenient, having him working nearby."

"What about your taxi driver friend? Have you seen him again?"

"Yes, last Wednesday. We went to Murphy's for a meal."

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I like him, but I suspect your question is asking more than that."

Liz smiled. "You're right. There's
like
as in liking someone as a friend, and
like
as in fancying the pants off him."

"'Scuse me? Fancying the pants off?"

"Don't you Americans use that phrase? It means being interested in someone."

Kara laughed. "And wanting to get his pants off?"

"Not literally, although yes, I suppose it could mean that, but it's more like saying you're very attracted to him. Are you?"

Her cheeks heated. "I guess I am, even though I still don't know a lot about him. He doesn't talk much about himself."

"Some men talk about nothing
but
themselves, and others tell you nothing." Liz paused as they reached the door of the staff room. "Does it worry you?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe saying nothing is better than telling a pack of lies like my last boyfriend did." Even as she said it, Kara recalled Ryan's suspicion that Conor might be married with half a dozen kids. The weekend had been so busy she hadn't had the chance to think much more about it, but this casual conversation had presented her with an unexpected opportunity. "Does Conor tell you much about himself?"

Liz nodded. "Quite a lot, actually. He's originally from Castlebar, and started his business there, but he lives in Skelleen now. It's a small village about ten miles from here. I've been to his house a few times. He bought it about three years ago when he split up with his ex."

"So he's been married?"

"No, they lived together for a couple of years, but she cheated on him, and went off to live in Dublin with her new boyfriend. Fortunately there were no kids to worry about, but I think he'd like kids one day. He's quite fond of his sister's children. She lives near Skelleen, too, but I've not met her yet. What about Ryan? Has he told you anything about his family?"

"Not really. Only that he was born at Portumna, where his grandparents lived, but he grew up in Dublin."

Liz raised her eyebrows. "Dublin? He doesn't sound like a Dubliner. More like someone from Galway, or at least the west of Ireland."

"Can you tell the difference?"

"I couldn't when I first came over here about four years ago, but I can now. Just as you can probably tell the difference between New York and Boston accents, for example. What else do you know about him?"

"He's interested in history and has visited several battlefields in France, and – well, that's about all."

"You need to ask him some loaded questions."

Kara grinned. "I did, and he called me out on it, and said he wasn't married, engaged, or otherwise attached."

"So what's your problem?"

"I guess there isn't one. Anyway, where's the dress you want mending?"

Twenty minutes later, she was partway through repairing the torn frill when Liz returned from her visit to the cottage.

"Oh, I didn't expect you back so soon, but I've nearly finished your dress."

Liz's expression was thunderous as she slumped down on one of easy chairs in the staff room. "Men! Don't you wish you could strangle them sometimes?"

"What's happened?"

"Got told to
go away, I'm busy
."

"Really? Did he say that?"

"Not in so many words, but that's what he implied. All I did was poke my head around the door of the cottage and say,
Hi, how're you doing?
Okay, I may have startled them because they were unpacking some boxes of roof slates, but Conor snapped at me not to come in because it wasn't safe. There was a fair amount of rubble on the floor, but it's not as if the whole place was going to come crashing down on top of me."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't have a chance to do anything because he came across to the door and escorted me outside. He said the roof wasn't safe, and told me they were busy and he'd call me later, but he made me feel like an unwelcome intruder."

"Perhaps he simply wanted to get on with the job. After all, there've been so many delays, with the weather, and then he couldn't get the slates he needed for the roof, or he had some other emergency jobs to do."

Liz shrugged. "You're probably right, and I'm over-reacting, but I'm still going to ask him why Mick Leary was in the cottage with him and Tommy."

"Who are Tommy and Mick Leary?"

"Tommy is his nephew, who works for him, and Mick is the son of Joe and Bridie at the farm. He worked here for a time when Guy and Jenna were modernising Mist Na Mara a few years ago, but Guy fired him when he discovered Mick had nicked a load of timber to repair his parents' barn."

Kara frowned. "You don't think he's planning to steal stuff from Conor, do you?"

"I hope he's not stupid enough to try anything like that again. He was put on a year's probation, and Joe and Bridie were mortified and full of apologies. They paid Guy for the timber, and Mick went off to work in either Dublin or Belfast, can't remember which now."

"Are you going to warn Conor about him?"

"I'll certainly mention it, in case he's considering taking Mick on as a labourer."

"Hopefully Mick's learned his lesson, but I agree Conor needs to know the facts. Okay, this is ready now." Kara tied off the last stitch, cut the thread, and handed the dress to Liz. "The frill should be safe unless you catch your heel on it again."

Liz grinned. "I'll do my best not to, and thanks so much for mending it. I'm useless at sewing."

"I don't mind sewing, but I hate ironing."

"In that case, you do the sewing and I'll do the ironing from now on."

Kara laughed. "We have a deal." When her phone rang, she pulled it from her pocket, and looked at the screen. "It's my taxi driver friend."

"I'll leave you to it," Liz mouthed.

* * * * *

"Hi, Ryan, how are ye?"

Ryan grinned at Kara's attempt to replicate the customary Irish greeting. "Grand, and yerself?" he responded, before going on, "Have you survived your busy weekend?"

"Survived and enjoyed it."

"Are you working today?"

"Two presentations this afternoon, and this evening we're going to the Heritage Centre to learn how to make soda bread on an open fire."

That put an end to his idea of a stroll down to the beach with her, but maybe he could ask a few surreptitious questions.

"Soda bread, is it? But why an open fire?"

"Because we're intending to demonstrate some traditional cooking in the cottage."

"Ah, yes, I remember you mentioning crafts and things like that, but the cottage isn't ready yet, is it?"

"The restoration started today. They put the scaffolding up at the weekend, and they're going to work on the roof while the forecast is promising a few days of dry weather."

"How on earth did they get the scaffolding truck there? Is there an access to the cottage from the road?"

"No, they come across some waste ground from the Leary farm, but eventually Guy's going to get the bushes cleared between the car park and the cottage. He's been talking to our grounds man, too, about creating a traditional vegetable plot."

He laughed. "Potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes?"

"Those were grown out in the fields. The cottagers grew things like cabbages, onions, leeks, and turnips in their own vegetable plots. The kids in one of the history classes at the high school have been doing some research for us."

"It's grand that you involve the local community in what you do here." He hesitated fractionally before going on, "Is the builder local, too?"

"I think his business is based in Castlebar, from what Liz said. Oh, and I did ask her, as casually as I could, of course, if she knew anything about Conor's background, and he isn't married, and doesn't have any children."

"That's a relief. For her sake, I'm glad he's not the brother-in-law who's married with six kids. Anyhow, I was calling to let you know I'm on the evening shift this week, four o'clock until midnight, except for today, so I was hoping we might be able to meet later."

He heard her small sigh. "I'm sorry, I can't. We have a tour group coming this afternoon, and we’re at the Heritage Centre this evening, and the rest of the week is full, too. The universe must be conspiring against us."

"Well, perhaps not the whole universe, but certainly our working hours for the next few days. However, I haven't forgotten about your meeting with Sister Gabriel, and Ben's agreed to swap shifts with me, so I'll be finishing about five o'clock on Friday. Remind me what time you said you'd meet her."

"About seven-fifteen, but are you sure you don't mind changing your shifts?"

"Of course I don't. I'll pick you up shortly after five, and we'll stop for a bite to eat somewhere on the way. Okay?"

"Yes, thanks, and I'm so sorry about today."

"So am I. I was looking forward to seeing you again, but there are only four days until Friday."

After he ended the call, he blew out his breath. He'd spoken the truth. He
had
been looking forward to seeing her this evening, and not only as a means to an end. Besides, she'd confirmed the access to the cottage via the Leary farm. There was nothing suspicious about that. Conor, or maybe Guy Sinclair, had probably negotiated the access with the farmer until an alternative route was opened up from the visitor car park. It might have made more sense to create that route first, of course, but it was hardly significant.

More importantly, Kara had given him the clue to the whereabouts of Conor's construction business. First, he'd send all the photos he'd taken earlier to Declan, in the hope that at least one of the two men with Conor might be on their files, and then he'd get a list of all the builders in the Castlebar area.

* * * * * *

Kara's nerves tightened as Ryan drove along the promenade at Salthill on Friday evening. He pulled up opposite a small park, and nodded his head toward a solitary figure sitting on a bench against a low stone wall. She had her back to them as she looked out across the bay but her navy head scarf was unmistakable.

"She's waiting for you."

Kara bit her lip. "I'm all jittery now."

Ryan put out his hand to squeeze hers, which were tightly clenched in her lap. "Don't be. She's asked to meet you because she wants to tell you something." He glanced across the road. "I'll wait in the hotel car park over there. If you need me to come over, just wave."

Taking a deep breath, she opened the car door, got out, and looked back at him. "I don't know how long I'll be."

"Don't worry yourself about that."

As she closed the car door, Sister Gabriel half-turned, and raised one hand in greeting.

Kara hurried toward her. "Sister, it's so good of you to meet with me."

"And I appreciate you coming all the way here from Clifden." The nun glanced back to where Ryan was waiting to turn right into the hotel car park. "You came by taxi?"