The Celtic Riddle

Alex had gone down to the pier and brought back some wonderful fish, determined to prepare a meal for us all, his first dinner party, he said, in his new home. It was somewhat daunting with no electricity, but Paddy got the fire roaring, Jennifer and I lit candles and set the table, and we had a rather jolly time of it in his cozy little cottage. There was the fish, cooked in a pan over the fire, potatoes hot from the coals and slathered in Irish butter, and lots of fresh vegetables followed by strawberries in thick Irish cream. It was a bit strained at first, between Paddy and me, although I could find nothing to fault in his manner that night, no matter how I tried. He was solicitous to Jennifer, kind to Malachy and Kevin, helpful to Alex, and generally stayed out of my way, calling me Ms. McClintoch when called upon to address me. He had the casual charm of the Irish that was quite disarming, when the conversation and the companionship drew him out of his normal reticence, and finally I decided a truce was in order. "We didn't get off to a very good start the other day," I said to him as we were setting out the food on the table.

"We didn't," he agreed.

"I thought you'd run us down in the water. It was your boat, I think," I added carefully.

"Could have been," he said. "Do you still think I was at the helm?"

"No," I replied. "Malachy and Kevin said you wouldn't do such a thing, and that's good enough for me.

He smiled. "They're grand old boys, aren't they? And no, it wasn't me, although I regret to say it may have been my boat. There were a few extra knots showing on her than there should have been for its just being in the boatworks. The boys at the works took her out to see she was going all right, after they'd worked on her, but not as far as all that."

"Who do you think might have taken it?"

"Conail," he replied.

"Why?"

"Kind of hotheaded thing he might do. Get us both at one time, if you see what I mean: scares you off the hunt and gets me in trouble at the same time. They're a bad bunch up there at Second Chance," he added. "Treated me rough, they did. Tink they're better than everybody else, but they're not. Except Eamon. He was a fine one. Took me in, made me feel like one of the family. Treated all of us right-Michael and John and me. Not her, though. Margaret. A bad piece of work, she is. Treated me like dirt. Conail too, and Sean. The two sisters, they went along with it."

"Only two of them?"

"Not Breeta," he said softly. "Not her. She's a fine one, like her Da."

"You should call me Lara," I said.

"Should that be Aunt Lara?" he smiled.

"No, it shouldn't," I replied. Don't push your luck, I thought.

Late in the evening, well fed and warmed by the conviviality, we left Alex ensconced in his cottage and picked our way carefully overland to the main road, not wishing to run into Sean McHugh and his rifle at night, and thence back to town. I dropped Malachy and Kevin off before going on to the friend of Paddy's from whom he'd borrowed the van. He took off from there on his motorbike, and I took Jennifer back to the Inn.

There was an envelope waiting for me on my return. In it was a note. / came to see you, it said. / will come back on my day off. Day after tomorrow, 1o'clock. Please wait for me. There is something I have to tell you. Very important. D. Flood.

Chapter Twelve. A PIERCING SPEAR WAGING WAR

REGRETTABLY, the Byrne family followed through on their threat to take legal action to get Rose Cottage away from Alex.

"Lara," the smooth voice said. "Charles, here." I could almost smell his cologne over the telephone lines, and I confess my heart did a little dance, all my good intentions to the contrary. "I'm afraid I have bad news. Despite my efforts to persuade them to the contrary, the Byrne family has engaged the services of another solicitor and are suing Eamon Byrne's estate for Rose Cottage. They're claiming, as I suspected they might, that Eamon was non compos mentis due to the spread of the cancer to his brain. We will need to get together to discuss how to proceed. Ryan and I will be driving down your way later today. Do you think you could get in touch with Mr. Stewart for me, and the four of us might meet for an hour or two late this afternoon?"

I thought we could. As irritated as I was by this development,IdecidedthatseeingCharlesagain would go some distance toward making me feel better.

We met in the lounge of the Inn, sitting at a large table so that Charles and Ryan could spread their notes about. The two of them were in lawyer uniform again, three-piece suits and all, which turned more than a few heads of the rest of the clientele in this rather more casual setting.