Murder at an Irish Christmas by Carlene O'Connor

Author:Carlene O'Connor [O'Connor, Carlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

That night, instead of visions of sugarplums, depressed cows and a failing Irish cream business danced through Siobhán’s head. Once she reported the story to the guards, Paul was going to have to produce all the financial records related to his company. Siobhán wasn’t going to be endearing herself to her new family. Had Paul forged Enda’s signature on a check or a loan document, or were those lads from the pub just making wild guesses? And if Paul did steal the money somehow, did Enda find out? Did he overreact?

Siobhán needed more information in regards to Enda’s health. Correction. The guards needed to investigate Enda Elliot’s medical condition. Siobhán was here on holiday. Enjoying Christmas with her loved ones. So if she didn’t sleep a wink that night, the howling wind outside and wondering how Macdara was doing on Catherine’s sofa were probably to blame.

When morning came, she was exhausted but relieved. She missed her cappuccino maker back at the bistro, but a cup of tea was the next best thing. An early phone call jolted her out of her morning trance. Leah was requesting that everyone gather at Enda’s after breakfast for a meeting. Eoin made them all eggs, toast, and rashers, and soon after they headed over.

Leah gathered them in Enda’s kitchen. Siobhán tried not to stare at the spot on the wall where the hatchet once hung. She’d yet to tell the guards about the Elliot grandchildren burying it on their property. She was waiting for her official interview. The list of things to tell them about was growing. “The guards are finished in the mill,” Leah said. “We need to organize the concert. I say we start with blessing and decorating the space.”

Finished in the mill. That meant Enda’s body had been moved to Cork University Hospital. Pity, Siobhán was looking forward to seeing Jeanie Brady, and she’d already purchased a bag of pistachios in town. Moira stepped forward wringing a handkerchief. “Are you sure we shouldn’t find a new location?” Siobhán had been wondering the exact same thing. The last time these folks had entered the mill, they’d received quite the fright.

Leah shook her head. “Enda was very excited about using the whiskey mill. He loved the acoustics. Our instruments stay more in tune with the temperatures in the mill. He would have cared more about that than anything else. We’ll keep it in the mill in honor of my husband.”

If anyone else objected they dare not say so in front of the widow. “When do we start?” Harry Williams asked.

“Right now,” Leah said. “Let’s organize rides to the mill. We can rehearse while others decorate.”

Rehearse. That would be exciting. Siobhán edged closer to Macdara. “We’re going to walk.”

“We are?” Ann asked.

“Anyone who wants to stretch their legs can join us,” Siobhán said. No one did, including her brood. “See you there,” Siobhán sang as they bundled into their coats.

“What are we really doing?” Macdara asked the minute they were outside.

Siobhán stood in Enda’s driveway.

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