The Celtic Riddle

"I needed the money, why else? Kitty, the maid before me, she stayed a long, long time. And despite what they say, Mr. Byrne was not a bad employer. There was always a touch of sadness about him, but he was a generous man, giving me extra money at Christmas and my birthday, and telling me not to tell that woman, Mrs. Byrne. John, too, he liked. John had been there forever. They had the odd drop of drink together after the others had gone to bed."

"Where's Kitty now?" I asked.

"Don't know," she replied. "I never met her."

"And Michael? Did he get along well with Mr. Byrne?" I asked.

"Michael," her voice caught, and she paused for a minute before continuing. "Yes, Michael and Mr. Byrne got on too. When he was really ill, dying, he liked to watch Michael work out in the garden. Michael was sweet on Breeta, you know. Perhaps you noticed. He was not so good at hiding it. He was heartbroken when she left. She was a mere slip of a thing then, not fat at all, and really lovely. She looked so bad at the funeral," Deirdre said. "Very bad. Michael stayed because he liked Mr. Byrne, and because he was waiting for Breeta, hoping she'd come back. Do you think she'll recover? She looked-at the burial-a wee bit strange."

"Why did she leave, do you know?"

"It was over a young man. Breeta was seeing someone in the village, and her father didn't like it. They had a terrible row, Mr. Byrne ranting, and Breeta yelling. Terrible, it was. Breeta left and wouldn't come back. I heard she'd broken up with her young man not long ago, but she didn't come back."

"Do you know who the young man was?"

"Paddy Gilhooly," she said. Funny how that name kept coming up again and again. Eamon Byrne had apparently liked him well enough to give him a boat, but not enough to let him date his daughter.

"Did you see Michael that night? The night he… " My voice trailed off at the sight of Deirdre's stricken face.

"I did not," she replied. "Why would I? He was off for the night. And he lives in the staff quarters down the road. I lived in the big house," she added. "On the top floor. Snug little spot. Mr. Byrne had it fixed up for me."

"I just wondered if he had gone back to the house for some reason. He was found in the garden, nearer the main house than his flat, so I thought he must have gone to the house." Of course he had, I thought. He'd promised Breeta he'd go right back for Vigs, and he was a man of his word.

"Not that I am aware," she said.

"Would he have a key to the main house, do you think? I mean, could he get in without waking anyone?"

"I suppose he must," she replied. "All the staff had keys. Not to the front door, mind you, but the service entrance around the back. But what are you getting at?"

"Nothing," I said. "It's just that I saw Michael at the pub before he died, and I got the impression he was going back to the house." Deirdre looked at her watch. "It's time I was going," she said.

"I'll walk you back to the car for your bag. Where are you going? Have you some place to stay?"

She looked at me suspiciously. "It's okay, Deirdre," I said. "I'm not going to follow you, and you don't have to answer the question. I just wanted to know that you'll be all right."

"I'll be staying with my nephew in Dublin until I can find another position," she replied, finally. "I'll manage."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," I said soothingly. She was rather prickly, and there was more I wanted to know. "Do they all live in that house? The daughters and their husbands, I mean?"

"Eithne and Mr. McHugh live in the house. Fionuala and Mr. O'Connor used to live there too-there's plenty of space in that big house-but they had a falling out with the rest of the family, at least Mr. McHugh and Mr. O'Connor seemed not to get along, and they moved to a smaller house, still on the property, but down the road a bit, not too far from the staff cottages. Well, she lives there still. Mr. O'Connor, I hear he's getting a flat in town now," she said, reaching for her handbag.

"I'd like to treat you to tea, Deirdre," I said, gesturing for her to put down her purse. "What did the family have a falling out over, do you know?"

Deirdre shrugged. "I didn't hear. Money, I expect, and the business. Mr. McHugh and Mr. O'Connor were running Byrne Enterprises between them while Mr. Ea-mon Byrne was ill, and they didn't get on too well. It was all right while Mr. Byrne was in charge: he made them work together, but after…" Her voice trailed off.

"And Conail and Fionuala? What happened to them?"

"The usual, I expect," Deirdre replied primly. "She was always one to be looking around, and he corrupted with drink. Bone lazy as a result of it. The Irish curse, you know. Alcohol. The English brought it on us."