The Celtic Riddle

"We did not," McCafferty averred, looking at me with some suspicion. He wasn't that far gone, either. "Byrne asked us to distribute the envelopes to his heirs on his demise, that is all."

"And you didn't take a peek?" I asked, adopting what I hoped was a playful tone.

"Absolutely not," he said, looking offended. "They were sealed when we got them."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said. "It seems a little dangerous to know the clues. Michael Davis was found with part of one clue in his hand. I'm thinking it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume that whoever had that clue was his killer."

"The police have already asked us that question," McCafferty replied. "Unfortunately, we were unable to help them." He was watching me very carefully now.

"Something struck me as a bit odd about it," I went on, as if oblivious to his glance. "I mean, who hid the second set of clues? Not Eamon Byrne surely. He was very ill. He couldn't possibly have climbed up Mount Eagle to the ring fort, neither could he have climbed down to the cove and out to the boat to place the first clue."

"Perhaps he did it some time ago, when he was well," McCafferty said. I noticed he didn't seem surprised by my reference to the ring fort and the boat, nor by the reference to a second set of clues.

"But Deirdre here told me he had suddenly fallen ill, very ill. Why would he have been out placing the clues that would be given to people when he died, when he was quite well and not expecting to die soon? There would be too much danger they'd be lost, wouldn't there, especially the ones outside?"

"I don't really know," McCafferty replied. If I had struck a chord with him, it didn't show. "It doesn't really matter who hid them, does it?" he continued. "As long as the family works together to find the treasure as Byrne wished."

"But it does matter," I said. "I think that whoever placed them might well have looked at them. They weren't sealed, just stuck in plastic. And I think that person might have inadvertently placed their name on a death list. You will be careful now, won't you, Mr. McCafferty?" I said looking him right in the eye.

"Charles, please," he said. "Of course, I will be careful," he said, placing his hand on my arm.

It was the first time since the initial handshake that he'd touched me. I suddenly felt as if I was falling into something I might not be able to control. "My," I exclaimed, looking at my watch. "I really must be going. I have to meet a young friend of mine who's on a tour of historic Dublin. I mustn't keep her waiting. I've really enjoyed the tour of your offices, though."

"I have enjoyed it as well," he said as we descended the stairs to the front door. "I hope you'll come and visit us another time. Perhaps our paths will cross again. I have to be at Second Chance from time to time to assist the family with various matters."

"Perhaps we will." I smiled. So much for my intention to call this one off.

"Good," he said. "If I needed to find you for some reason, the legal challenge to the Will, for example?"

"The Three Sisters Inn in town."

"I know the place," he said, as we descended the steps to the main floor.

Deirdre and Tweedledee, Ryan McGlynn, were in the foyer, a fact that brought our flirtation, or was it seduction, to a close. As I had predicted, they were dressed very much alike once again. I searched the two men's faces for some family similarity, but the resemblance seemed to stop at their age, which was about the same, their clothes and demeanor. McGlynn was a little heavier, not quite in such good trim as Charles, and more relaxed in outlook. He was smoothly seeing a stately dowager out the door, telling her not to worry, that everything would be taken care of. She looked pathetically grateful, considering what she was going to have to pay to be able to stop worrying.

"We've met, have we not?" he said, turning his charm on me. "Ms… ?"

"McClintoch," McCafferty said. "Ms. McClintoch is here to see to details about her friend's inheritance from Eamon Byrne's estate."

"Of course, Second Chance," he said, shaking my hand.

"I must compliment you on your offices," I said. "Mr. McCafferty has been showing me around."

"They are grand, aren't they?" McGlynn responded. "All Charles's doing. He's the connoisseur. I just go along with whatever he suggests."

"Ryan is rather more interested in good food," McCafferty smiled.

"Food," McGlynn agreed, patting his stomach, "and wine." He gave me a wink. Neither of these gentlemen, it seemed, were short at all on charm.

The good-natured jousting came to an end as the front door opened, and Fionuala Byrne O'Connor walked in. She did not look pleased to see me. But then Deirdre didn't looked pleased to see her either, adopting her scared rabbit look the moment she set eyes on Fionuala.