The Celtic Riddle

I'd have liked to ask her about it, but she wasn't talking. At least she wasn't talking to me, but she was in good company in that regard, joining a small but growing group of people who regarded me as the local version of Typhoid Mary. When I saw her the next day on the street in town, doing some shopping, like Breeta, Deirdre hurriedly crossed the street when she saw me coming toward her. I waved, but she gave me her frightened rabbit look and disappeared quickly into a laneway. By the time I got over to where I'd seen her disappear, she was gone, lost in the maze of tiny streets. I supposed it was my surprise appearance at McCafferty and McGlynn that had made her so afraid of me, but I would have thought that, weighed against the happenings at Second Chance, on balance, I would be seen to be the lesser of two evils. Apparently not.

If Deirdre had nothing to say to me, however, she had plenty to tell the gardai.

Chapter Eleven. A FLAME OF VALOR

WHAT Deirdre had to say to the gardai put Conail O'Connor in jail. Or rather, to be more precise, Conail's reaction to what Deirdre had to say got him in trouble. Conail, hot-headed at the best of times, I'd warrant, was brought to the brink by his split with Fionuala and the constant ribbing he was subjected to, some of it friendly, some of it not, on the subject of his little encounter with Alex. His being hauled in for questioning had resulted in a physical altercation in the garda station that left one police officer with a bloody nose and Conail in handcuffs.

Conail was being led off to a cell, as I went into the station to talk to Rob.

"Piss off, will you?" he said as an officer took his arm. "I was looking for my wife," he bellowed over his shoulder as he was taken away. "I know she was there. Flirting with every man she came across. Somebody will have seen me."

"Seen him where?" I asked Rob as he led me to his little corner of the station. They'd given him a desk in the middle of a busy room, opposite an engaging young officer who gallantly gave up his chair and went searching for another when Rob and I arrived.

"Town," Rob replied. "Deirdre has told us this morning that she saw Conail O'Connor at Second Chance late the night Michael Davis died. After pub closing time. He says he was looking for his wife, but in town, not at Second Chance."

"Well, we all saw him in town at one point, didn't we, when he made that scene in the bar. But I talked to Deirdre before she went off to Dublin, and she didn't say a word about it. Why is Deirdre saying this now? Why not before?"

"Something about loyalty to the family, didn't want to get any of them in trouble when she was sure Conail hadn't really done anything wrong et cetera, et cetera. I can see why you refer to her as Deirdre of the Sorrows, by the way. Sad little lady. I see her kind of face from time to time, usually on the victims. They have an expression on their faces that seems to say that they know life will disappoint them, that something bad will happen to them. And the funny thing is, it does. I don't know whether they're victims because they look like victims, that they invite it in some way, or they look that way because of things that have happened to them already. Either way, I never quite know what to do or say to people like that." He paused for a moment. "Anyway, that's the reason I asked you to come down here, to try to confirm times again. I know we've been through this before, but in light of Deirdre's statement, we're going to have to go through it all again."

He looked tired. Well he might, of course, chasing criminals all day and doing the horizontal two-step with Ban Garda Maeve all night.

"How are you, anyway?" he said, smiling at me.

"It's ages since we had a chance to talk."

"Fine," I said. "I'm using my time here to find some stock for the store. Figure I might as well do something useful while I wait."

"Good," he said. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to believe me, but wasn't sure whether he could or not. But he liked the idea of what I'd said. He thought it would keep me out of trouble. "Are you really?" he said suspiciously.

"Absolutely," I replied. I took a photo of the dining room set the seller had given me out of my bag and laid it out in front of him. "See? Lovely, isn't it? I found a beautiful silver tea service, too."

"Great," he said, handing the photo back to me. We seemed to be having trouble talking about anything other than police work, I realized. We used to talk all the time. This was not so good.

"Well," he said. "Down to business. Let's go over that evening again. Michael and Breeta left together?"

"Yes. She had to catch the last bus into Killarney. Michael was going to walk her to the bus stop, then he'd promised her he'd go back to Second Chance to get Vigs."

"The turtle," Rob said.

"Tortoise, actually, but yes."

"Method of transportation?"