The Celtic Riddle

She sounded annoyed, and I had to smile. Fathers and daughters, I thought. The jealousy seemed to go both ways. She had a point, though. Fionuala was definitely out for a good time. She was holding down a stool at the bar, her tight, short skirt riding provocatively high on her thighs, and a cigarette, held delicately between brightly painted fingernails, sending swirls of smoke around her head. I wondered if she'd heard about her husband's jaw's intersection with Alex's hand.

I was also speculating whether Jennifer would like Maeve Minogue any better, when Michael and Breeta joined us.

"What happened to your hand?" Michael said, eyeing Alex's knuckles, now an unbecoming shade of blue.

"It came in contact with Conail O'Connor's jaw," Malachy proffered.

"He was trying to kill Malachy at the time," Kevin piped in. "O'Connor, I mean. He had his hands around Malachy's neck and was throttling him. Malachy was almost unconscious." My, I thought, how these stories grow! Denny would be telling this one to the post on the pier before long. "Alex and I went after O'Connor, Lara too.""Knocked him out cold." Malachy grinned. " 'Twas a fine sight to see. I think we should drink another toast to Alex's right hand." I ordered them another round, but passed myself. It was beginning to look as if this was going to turn into a long night, and I thought I might be called upon to do a little chauffeuring later.

Michael looked at me. "Can you enlighten us a little? We saw O'Connor leaving Tom Fitzgerald's place. Face all swollen, and in a right bad mood. Staggering drunk, of course. Headed off down one of the lane-ways," he added.

"Not in this direction, I hope," I said, thinking that a drunk Conail O'Connor might be a real problem.

"He might be," Michael said. "But if he is, it's going to take him a while to get this far, the shape that he's in. So tell us what happened this afternoon."

I told them the story, with a lot of help from Malachy and Kevin.

Throughout this conversation, Breeta said nothing, although she looked shocked enough when she heard the story. She seemed sort of out of it, somehow, her mind somewhere else entirely. I'd offered her a drink, but she didn't take me up on it, and sat, instead, holding a glass of soda water, which she barely touched, as she stared into the flames of the fireplace across from us.

"I've lost my job," she said, suddenly rousing herself from her torpor.

"Oh dear," I said. "That's too bad. What happened?"

She was silent for a moment or two. "I've been working in a dress shop," she said finally. "A very fancy dress shop, in Killarney. I think," she said slowly, "I think-they didn't say so, but they didn't think I looked good enough to work there. They wanted someone who looked better in the clothes." Her lip trembled, but she didn't cry.

"What do you mean, Bree?" Michael exclaimed. "What do you mean you didn't look good enough to work there?"

"I've put on so much weight," she said. A tear slipped out of one corner of her eye. She brushed it away angrily. "And they're right. I don't look good in the clothes. I don't care about the job. It wasn't very interesting," she went on. "But I'll have to give up my flat in a couple of weeks, and I don't know where I'll go."

"I think you're just beautiful, Bree," Michael said, his voice hoarse. "And you can stay with me. I know I'm not good enough for you, working on your family's estate and everything. But I have that little flat in the staff cottage. Now that John Herlihy's gone, maybe I can get his. It's bigger, with a little kitchen and everything. There's room for…" He stopped and looked down at his rough hands. "There's room for all of us."

I wasn't sure who all of us were, but I thought his offer was very nice, and Breeta could do a lot worse. Michael wasn't exceptionally bright, maybe, but he was smart enough, and he was also kind and generous, and obviously sweet on Breeta.

"Thank you, Michael," Breeta said softly. "I appreciate your offer. Very, very much. It's the nicest thing that's happened to me in a long time. I will have to think about it, but…" Her voice trailed off, and they both sat looking at each other.

Ain't love grand? I thought. Certainly it was thawing Breeta, which was nice.

"That settles it. We'll have to look for that treasure," Michael said suddenly. "Really look for it. I mean it. Everything will be all right, Bree. There'll be lots of money. We can all look together. I'm sure there will be enough to go around when we find it. You can have my share." He paused. "I forgot," he said, turning to me. "What happened when you went to ask about Breeta's clue?"

"We were stunningly unsuccessful," I said, as Alex nodded. "Your mother," I said looking at Breeta, "insists it was an ordinary robbery. Some money was taken from the safe along with the clue, if we believe the clue is really missing, and a map or two. She also said the family has decided to have nothing whatsoever to do with the hunt for your father's treasure."