The Celtic Riddle

Alex had taken himself off to stay at Rose Cottage for a few days. He said he wanted to try the place out before he decided what he wanted to do about it, but I figured that as much as anything he just wanted to get a good night's sleep without Rob creeping in and out at odd hours. The idea of Alex staying alone at Rose Cottage-I couldn't go with him and leave Jennifer alone all night, that much was certain-caused a frenzy of anxiety for me. I told myself that it was because I was worried about his health, and his proximity to Second Chance, and the possibility of a murderer there. He told me not to fuss. The compromise was he had to take my cell phone and meet me for a pub lunch, usually splendid fish and chips and a pint of Guinness for him, Kilkenny for me, almost every day.

Jennifer, needless to say, was consumed by her sailing lessons, and all that these entailed.

All of which meant that I was left on my own, feeling generally out of sorts. I felt abandoned somehow, bereft, with everyone else involved in something different-Rob with his Maeve, Jennifer with her Paddy, Alex with his Rose-none of which included me. In the end, I concluded I was just not myself, for reasons I could only explain as the aftermath of finding two bodies and being so far away from home.

So I did what I always do when I am in the thrall of feelings that I consider beneath my dignity: I threw myself into my work, or at least I tried to. I called Sarah a couple of times to see how things were going, but she sounded remarkably calm about my extended stay in Ireland, a fact I had trouble believing. I could only assume that this tranquility on her part meant that Clive had taken over control of the store, a thought that I translated into visions of returning eventually to find the place cold and dark, with Clive's shop across the road a mecca of bright lights for antiques enthusiasts everywhere. After a couple of nights of waking up in a cold sweat, I broke down and called Moira.

"Everything's fine," she said, to my question about how things in general were. I was working my way around to subject of the shop gradually.

"Sarah must be exhausted by now looking after the place by herself," I said, testing the waters.

"No, I don't think so," she said matter-of-factly. "She seems to be getting along all right. Clive has found her a co-op student, someone studying merchandising at the community college, to help her out a couple of hours a day after class. Sarah says the kid's terrific."

Kid, I thought. Knowing Clive this would be some nubile young thing who liked to sit on older men's knees. Moira had better keep her eye on him.

"And Ben thinks this is the best thing that's happened to him since he started the course," she continued. Ben, I thought, in amazement. So, no nubile young thing. What was the catch? Maybe Ben cost a fortune. Maybe Clive was bankrupting me.

"He's cheap too," Moira went on. "The school picks up half his wages as part of the course."

Much to my surprise, even after several more pointed questions, I could find nothing to fault with Clive's activities. I didn't know whether I was relieved or disappointed. "That's great," was what I said.

"Clive has an idea he'd like to discuss with you when you get back," Moira said. "A little joint promotion idea he's come up with. I won't tell you about it, because he'll want to. I think it's a terrific idea, though."

"Oh, I don't know…" I said. There was a pause in the conversation.

"Lara," Moira said. 'We have never discussed this business, Clive and I, I mean. I know it's been difficult for you, and I've never felt that you wanted to talk about it, which I really feel badly about, because until Clive and I got together, you and I had always been able to discuss everything. And maybe a transatlantic call isn't the right time, but Clive is really trying hard. He knows how much your friendship means to me. I've told him. I've told him that I've been through a lot of men in the time you and I have been friends, and that I intend for us to be friends forever. I've really been hoping that despite your nasty divorce, the two of you could get along."

I kind of doubted that Clive and I could ever really get along, but Moira's friendship meant as much to me as it apparently did to her, and I figured I'd better try. "I'm sure we can," I said.

"Great!" she said happily. "Now tell me what's happening over there."

So I told her, about the family, the Will, about Second Chance and its gardens, the treasure hunt, and finally, the murders.

"Am I understanding this right?" Moira asked. "It's the servants that are getting offed, not the family members? Isn't this a bit odd?"

"It is," I agreed.

"Did the servants have clues?"

"Michael Davis did. John Herlihy didn't. Neither did Deirdre Flood, though she's still among the living."

"Why give it to only one of them? Was Michael the only non-family member that got a clue?"