Strange Winds: A Raven's Wing Irish Murder Mystery (Raven's Wing Irish Murder Mysteries Book 1) by T.E. Harkins

Author:T.E. Harkins [Harkins, T.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Charles Fort Press
Published: 2024-03-16T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The atmosphere inside The Mermaid on Sunday afternoon couldn’t be more different than the first time I visited the pub. Gone are the happily intoxicated crowds. They’ve been replaced by a handful of men either chatting quietly amongst themselves or sitting off on their own, with a drink as their only company.

They all turn to look as I push the door open and walk toward the bar.

“Well, now, if it isn’t the Glendare Gazette’s newest cub reporter,” the man behind the bar says as I approach. I recognize him as the same sixty-year-old who’d been serving drinks on the night of the sing-song. Jamie had identified him as Declan. “Mind your tongues, gentlemen, if ye don’t want to find your business splashed all over the papers.”

A few patrons titter while the rest return to their pints, uninterested. Embarrassment warms my face as I look at the taps, knowing I need to order something but not knowing what to get.

“Welcome to The Mermaid.” Declan smiles while making an elaborate flourish with his hand. “We’re all happy to have you here. It’s a fierce wind blowing today. You’ll likely be wanting something to take the edge off the cold. What can I offer you, so?”

Still undecided, I consider his suggestion for something warm. “Can I have a coffee?”

Without losing a beat, Declan calls out, “Do ye hear that lads? Sure, we might as well pitch the kegs into the tide, it’s coffee the tourists are wanting now.”

My skin alight with mortification, I quickly add, “With some Baileys. I’d like a coffee with Baileys, please.”

He nods, pulling out a dust-covered tin of instant coffee. “And how are you enjoying your time in Ballygoseir? Got off to a rough start, but you’re making the most of it, so I hear.”

Of course, the local barkeep would be up to date on all the latest gossip.

“It’s been interestin’, that’s for sure,” I say quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself. “I was actually hopin’ to talk to Samuel. I was told he might be here.”

Declan laughs, a deep throaty cough that smells of stale tobacco. “Now why would you be wanting to talk to that old fool? Sure, you’ll get no sense out of him, even when he’s not swimming in drink.”

Not wanting to get into a lengthy discussion debating the merits of talking to the local drunk, I just shrug. “Is he here?”

“Sure, it’s a Sunday afternoon. Of course, he’s here,” Declan tells me as he puts a steaming mug in front of me and pours in a shot of creamy liqueur. “You’ll find him in the back by the piano. Good luck to you.”

He gently pushes the drink toward me, and I reach into my purse for money. “How much do I owe you?”

He waves off the question. “You can pay me later. I’m not bothered. But when you do pay, just know we only take paper payment. Cash. Plastic’s bad for the environment, so they say.”

“Alright, thanks,” I tell him as I pick up my mug using both hands to warm them after being out in the cold.

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