Beyond the Pale by Clare O'Donohue

Author:Clare O'Donohue
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: beyond the pale;clare o donohue;claire o donohue;claire o'donohue;mystery;mystery fiction;mystery novel;mystery book;amateur spy;spy novel;spy mystery;amateur detective;ireland
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2018-03-15T13:03:04+00:00

Thirty-Six

She’s not working with you?” Finn asked. “She wasn’t our contact in Dublin?”

“No.”

“Who was it?”

“I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you now. The contact you were supposed to meet with was a man named Patrick Lahey.”

“Patrick Lahey?” Hollis’s head was spinning. “Gray hair, maybe sixty or so?”

“Yes.”

“We’d heard he’s either an artist or an art forger, depending on who’s providing the bio.”

“He’s a bit of both. Did he ever show?”

“Not at Bewley’s. He was at the theater, though,” she said. “And when we talked to him, he didn’t let on that he was our contact.”

David looked confused and slightly alarmed, which did nothing to comfort Hollis. “The theater? Your messages said you were worried that you were in danger. You didn’t say anything about going to the theater or talking to Lahey.”

“We were trying to keep our messages vague.”

“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t seem to really understand. “Why would you go for a night on the town if you were afraid?”

“There was someone who met us at Bewley’s,” Finn said. “Peter Moodley. You know him?”

“No. Who did he say he was?”

“He didn’t. But he kind of put it in our heads that we were supposed to go to the Abbey Theatre that night. And that’s where we ran into Lahey.”

“Some man came up to you at Bewley’s and told you to go to the Abbey Theatre. And you went?” David poured himself another drink.

Hollis wanted to tell him that the situation called for clear, sober heads, but she wasn’t sure David would be a help either sober or drunk. “We wanted to talk to you first, but you didn’t answer.”

“No, you were busy trying to get a promotion,” Finn said, his voice moving from annoyed to angry in just one syllable. “And the only way to do that, apparently, was to put two innocent people in harm’s way.”

“I know I should have been more honest with you, but all I did was send you to get some fake papers, using your expertise as cover. You were supposed to walk across the street, hand over the manuscript, and then go back to being small-town bookworms.”

“Hey!” Hollis jumped in. “We would love to go back to being bookworms, but people are threatening our lives.”

David looked about to escalate the argument but seemed to think better of it. He put his hands up in surrender. “You’re right. This is my fault. I’ll get you home. I’ll get you out of this. Just walk me through everything that’s happened.”

Finn took a breath, then began telling David what Hollis immediately noticed was an abbreviated version of the events. Finn was a born storyteller, so he normally added in tiny details to bring life to the tale—from the look on a man’s face to the temperature in the room. This time, though, he breezed through all of that, sticking to the facts and even then, he left out as much as he said.

He told David how he and Hollis had walked to Eamon’s

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