A Deathly Irish Secret by Nancy Nau Sullivan

Author:Nancy Nau Sullivan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Travel mystery;cozy;international;journalist;woman sleuth;female lead;Ireland;castle
Publisher: Light Messages Publishing
Published: 2023-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Fifteen She’s Back

The lawyer, the police, and Blanche sat in the small square room at district headquarters. It was time for questioning. Blanche was in no mood for it, but it had to be done, and she was anxious to get it over with. She’d spent the morning in a quandary, waiting for the attorney and the detective to show up, drinking bad tea—and fuming. Yet, she reminded herself to be grateful for the kindnesses the Irish had shown her and Haasi in the short time they’d been in Ireland. Blanche was home in the motherland, and she’d take it to heart. It was a difficult situation—with suspicion of murder hanging over her head—but she needed to put things in perspective. This too shall pass. Thanks, Gran.

Blanche shivered. She knew what else her grandmother would say: Be sensible, Blanche. Count to ten, and don’t tell all ya know.

Detective Inspector Myles Flannigan of Dublin clenched his hands on the tabletop. He was a trim little man with a pencil mustache and slicked-back hair and a twitchy eyelid. “Seems there’s been some new light shed upon the matter at hand.”

All eyes were on the inspector from the murder squad. Blanche’s fingers twisted the bottom of her shirt into a knot. Up to this point, the investigation had been tucked into the caseload of a team in Limerick. Now the four sat opposite each other on chairs securely fastened to the concrete; it was a rigid, uncomfortable meeting. Blanche tried to adjust her seating, to no avail. What do they think I’m going to do? Throw this chair? What a good idea. She pulled her thin jacket close. She was cold and clammy, and sweating the outcome. Didn’t they know she was innocent? She coughed loudly. She had to get out of here.

Flannigan repeated himself over the burst of throat clearing and paper shuffling. He seemed as anxious as Blanche to get on with it. “New light,” he said.

“Well, yes. I should hope so,” said Flynn, imperiously. He didn’t look the least bit imperious in his thick tweed jacket, hair like a bush, and green eyes that could not hide an inner merriment and kindness. In an aside, he said to Blanche, “I am sorry for the delay, Miss Blanche. I was held up in Cork City.”

“Well, I’m so glad you’re here. I hope you can do something.” She choked out the words, quietly. Flynn raised his eyebrows.

“No problem, Mr. Flynn,” said Leary.

“No problem?” Blanche bit her tongue, remembering her need for patience and her need to try. Leary gave her a level, unreadable look. Sometimes she was her own worst enemy with that mouth of hers. She shrank down in her seat, grateful that he seemed only mildly annoyed from the outburst, or maybe he was used to it from criminals. This was so frustrating. It was all a misunderstanding. They should adjourn now and go to lunch at the pub. Blanche looked around at these downturned faces. That was not happening.

Flannigan waved a folder and flapped it onto the table.

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