Irish Secrets (24 page)

They soon left the outskirts of Clifden and continued on the road toward Galway. Ryan blessed the other driver who kept going at a good speed through the wilds of Connemara, matching Tom Wild's speed. At least Wild was being sensible while negotiating the twists and turns in the dark road.

It gave him the chance to think. If Paddy Walsh's regular trips to Roscommon were, as Conor said, simply to deliver plants to the garden centre, was Tom delivering other goods to somewhere else in the town?

Snatches of memory returned. Tom telling him the run to Roscommon was
his
run and to keep his nose out. Seeing Tom's car heading for the Leary farm the night he dropped off the four women at Mist Na Mara, followed by Tom's outright lie that he was at least forty minutes from Cleggan, when he was less than fifteen minutes away. Tom dropping Paddy off at the garden centre and continuing elsewhere for twenty minutes or so before returning to pick up Paddy.

And now Tom Wild was heading out of Clifden, without the taxi sign on his car.

"
Jaysus,
" he breathed. "I got it wrong. I shouldn't have been suspecting Conor and Paddy. It's Tom Wild who's been running this racket."

Chapter 23

Following Tom east toward Galway was relatively easy, even when the car in the space between them turned off on the minor road south from Maam Cross. There were enough bends in the road for Ryan to keep his distance, although every so often he speeded up to ensure the red tail lights were still ahead of him. It didn't surprise him when Tom drove straight through Oughterard. Now he was sure the other man was heading for Galway. After that, it was anyone's guess.

Once they reached Galway's ring road, there was more traffic, and twice he thought he'd lost Tom's car before he caught sight of the white saloon again. He glanced anxiously at his fuel gauge. If Tom intended to take the motorway toward Dublin, he'd either have to abandon tailing him, or stop to fill his tank and hope he could catch up with him.

When he caught sight of Tom signalling left toward Tuam, he caught his breath. Ten minutes later, he gave a satisfied nod when the white car turned again, this time onto the N63 to Roscommon.

The road was straighter than the one through Connemara, and he kept a good distance away. He could always catch up later, because now he was sure where Tom was heading.

His mind worked quickly. Was the boot of Tom's car crammed with all the goods from the cottage? And should he alert the
Gardai
at Roscommon? But what if he was wrong? He risked getting more egg on his face if it turned out Tom had nothing in his car. Better to follow and hope he could get some photos of the handover, even if he had to keep watch all night.

He'd just passed the village of Mountbellew Bridge when the fuel warning light started to flash on his dashboard.

Dammit!

He was still about thirty kilometres from Roscommon, and the last thing he wanted was to run out of fuel in the middle of the town. His satellite navigation system told him the nearest filling station was about twenty kilometres further on, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was still open. The irony struck him that if he hadn't taken Kara for lunch at Roundstone, he would have plenty of fuel in his tank, but now he had no alternative but to pull into the station and fill up.

Should he continue to Roscommon? Tom could be anywhere by this time. A quick search on his phone showed there were six taxi firms in the town but, of course, it was unlikely the handover would take place outside any of them. The rendezvous was probably a back street somewhere.

Although there seemed little point in carrying on, he continued into the town, and drove around until he located four of the taxi offices. The other two were private houses, so presumably the owners worked from home.

After about forty-five minutes driving around the town, he gave up. There was no sign of Tom's car, and no way of finding out where he was. He banged a frustrated fist on his steering wheel, and returned to the N63 for the long drive back to Clifden.

* * * * *

"Full Irish, is it?" Maggie Tyson, the head cook, asked when Kara went into the staff dining room for breakfast the following morning.

The smell of bacon and sausages threatened to turn her stomach, and she shook her head. "No, I'll just have toast, thanks, Maggie. Is there any news about Jenna?"

"Nothing yet," Maria said. "I called Charley last night after you went to bed, and she said she'd contact Guy. We're leaving it to her, because the last thing he needs is us all trying to call him."

"And I heard from Conor," Liz added. "He rang about eleven thirty last night to say he'd been released without charge."

"That's good news." Kara sat down at the long table and reached for the jug of coffee. "I think I'll need about three gallons of this."

"Hangover?" Liz asked sympathetically. "Can't say I blame you after last night's shock."

"I didn't have anything more to drink. Perhaps it might have been better if I had, because I hardly slept at all. Everything kept going around in my mind, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I became."

"I'm assuming you mean angry with Ryan, and I know I said I'd go ballistic, too, but I suppose he couldn't tell you his real job."

Kara poured coffee into her mug, and took a long gulp. "Not to begin with, no, but something else occurred to me, probably about three o'clock this morning. He was working undercover as a taxi driver when I first met him."

Liz frowned. "So? That's how we all met him, although I can't remember when he started picking us up."

"March or April, I think," Maria said. "When did you start dating him, Kara?"

"Mid-May, after I met him in Galway, and he drove me back here." Her voice hardened. "So did he already know, or at least suspect, the cottage was being used to store stolen goods? And is that the reason he offered to help me search for my—" She stopped, remembering she hadn't told anyone here except Guy about her search for her mother's birth. "For my Irish ancestors," she went on quickly. "Pretending to be helpful so he could pump me for information? About the cottage and Conor and—" She broke off, blinking back scalding tears of hurt and humiliation like the ones she'd shed in the early hours of the morning. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'll probably never see him again. What time are we going to Ballindoon today?"

Liz glanced at her watch. "In about thirty minutes. Are you sure you want to do the workshops at the Community Centre there?"

"Sure. It'll be a relief to think about something else."

She slid off her chair, and went up to her room, trying to drag her mind into a different channel, away from all her conflicting thoughts. Her anger still dominated, but it was accompanied by an ache of desolation as other memories forced their way in despite her efforts to push them away. Ryan's smile, the way his blue eyes crinkled with laughter or softened with tenderness, his firm hand gripping hers, his arm around her when they sat in the pub, and… No, the last thing she wanted to remember was their bed in Dublin, or the two exhilarating nights they'd spent there.

Picking up the folder with her notes for the drama sessions with the eight and nine year olds, she went down to the hall, where the rest of the group were assembled.

Charley had arrived and was giving them an update.

"Guy called me at seven-thirty. Jenna's in labour and the baby is being monitored, and they're both doing well. It seems they're not too worried about him coming early. Most babies born at thirty-seven weeks are fine, but they may have to put him on a ventilator, depending on whether his lungs have developed fully."

"Fingers crossed for them both." Liz said. "Okay, who's going in whose car? Kara, you come with Richard and me, and Maria and Karl can go with Charley." She opened the front door, and glanced back. "Uh-oh, not your favourite person, Kara."

Kara peered over her shoulder and tensed at the sight of Ryan getting out of his car. "Oh, no. Why on earth is he here again?"

Charley stepped forward as Ryan approached. "Good morning, Detective O'Neill. How may we help you?"

At least he had the grace to look discomfited at Charley's pleasant greeting, and Kara held her breath.

"I've been instructed to pursue a line of inquiry about some diamond earrings Mrs. Sinclair was wearing on Saturday evening."

Eyes wide, Kara pushed past both Charley and Liz. "How
dare
you?" she seethed. "How dare you come here asking about something you wouldn't even have seen if you hadn't wormed your way into my life?"

"Kara, he's only doing his—" Liz's hand grasped her arm, but she shook it off.

"I showed him some photos of Jenna on Saturday night, and now he has the nerve to start suspecting her earrings were stolen."

"I'm sorry," Ryan said, "but we have to follow up all potential leads."

She glared at him. "And do you have a search warrant?"

"I can obtain one, but I'm hoping it won't be necessary."

Charley stepped forward. "I'm sure we'd all like this – um, this misunderstanding to be cleared up quickly, so there's no need for a search warrant. If you come with me to the office, I'll do my best to help. Liz, you go on ahead, and tell Mrs. Maguire we'll be there as soon as we can."

Kara stared after them as Ryan followed Charley into the house. When he paused in the doorway and glanced back, she made a deliberate point of turning away and heading for Liz's car.

* * * * *

"You can't blame her," Charley said. "She feels hurt and betrayed."

Ryan nodded. The short encounter told him all he needed to know about Kara's feelings. If he'd hoped her anger would have abated by this morning, he was wrong. He doubted she would ever forgive him.

Pushing the bleak thought to the back of his mind, he followed Charley into a room off the corridor.

"This is Guy's office," she said. "If you'd like to wait here, I'll go and see if I can find Jenna's earrings."

When she'd gone, he scrolled his phone until he found the photo of Caitlyn Connolly's jewellery, and enlarged the picture of the earrings. He couldn't afford to make any error with this, but his feelings were mixed. If Jenna's earrings proved to be the same, at least he would feel vindicated in his suspicions about Mist Na Mara being somehow linked to the stolen goods. At the same time, he desperately wanted to believe Guy Sinclair wasn't involved.

He looked around as Charley came back into the office and handed him a velvet box. "Easy to find. They were still on Jenna's dressing table."

The words
Hanley of Galway
were embossed in gold leaf on the lid. At least that should be simple to check. Hanley's was a reputable jewellery business which would never deal in stolen property. Assuming, of course, this was the original box. As he opened it, a phone rang.

"Mine," Charley said as she pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and glanced at the screen. "I need to answer this. It's Guy."

He nodded, and while she spoke on her phone, he studied the earrings, and compared them with his photo. His heart sank a little at the similarity to the stolen earrings, but his attention was diverted by Charley's shriek of delight.

"Oh, that's fantastic news, Guy! I'm so relieved, and so happy for you both."

She asked a few more questions and he didn't need to be a genius to realise Jenna's baby had been born.

She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "The baby arrived about half an hour ago. It's a boy, but they knew that, and mum and baby are doing well."

Relief washed through him. Kara had been right. He couldn't have forgiven himself if his actions the previous night had resulted in any major problem for Jenna or her baby.

"May I have a quick word with Guy?"

She nodded and spoke into her phone again. "Guy, Ryan's here and wants to speak to you…Yes, will do… Give Jenna my love."

She handed the phone to him.

"First of all, congratulations," he said. "From what I heard Charley saying, everything has gone well?"

"It has, and I can't thank you enough for allowing me to come here to be with Jenna. Do you know what's happened to Conor?"

"Released without charge last night."

"That's good. So you know neither of us has any idea about the stolen goods you mentioned?"

Ryan hesitated. "I'm hoping we can eliminate you both from our inquiries, but I do need to ask you one question. Do you have a receipt for the earrings your wife was wearing on Saturday evening? The diamond and ruby ones."

There was a moment's silence, and he held his breath.

"Jenna's earrings? I bought them at Hanley's in Galway about a month ago. They were a birthday present."

"And you have a receipt?"

"Yes, of course. Tell Charley to find a brown manila folder marked
Personal
in the top drawer of my desk. I'm sure that's where I put it."

"Thanks, Guy. I won't keep you any longer. You need to be with your wife and son now."

He handed the phone back to Charley, who spoke to Guy for another couple of minutes. He obviously told her where to look, because as soon as she ended the call, she crossed to the desk and opened the top drawer. She flipped through a folder and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"I think this is what you need."

He studied the receipt and nodded. "Any chance of a copy of this?"

"Yes, of course."

She switched on the photocopier and handed the print-out to him a few seconds later.

"Thanks, and as far as Guy's concerned, this is the end of the investigation."

"Thank God for that." Charley hesitated for a moment. "And you and Kara?"

He managed a weak smile. "I don't think there
is
any 'me and Kara' now. She'll never forgive me for deceiving her."

"You may be right," she said, as they left the office and headed to the front door. "I'm not sure I could forgive you either, in her place. You'll have to do something pretty amazing to earn her trust and respect again."

Her words rang in Ryan's ears as he drove back to Clifden, but a blanket of dejection settled over him. Kara's anger and contempt were only too obvious. He'd blown it, just as he'd blown the whole of this investigation.