An Early Wake (11 page)

M
aura struggled to keep her face neutral, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t fooling anyone. So much for saying nothing. She couldn’t lie to Niall.

“Why do you ask?” she said cautiously.

She half expected Niall to come back with some remark amounting to “It’s not yer business,” but he surprised her by saying, “I didn’t want to leave without askin’ if he was headed back to Cork city and needed the lift.” Niall sensed something was wrong. He leaned against the bar and faced her squarely. “Has he gotten himself in trouble, then?”

Maura looked at the others around the room, but they offered no help; this was up to her. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Niall, since I know you were old friends, but Aidan’s dead. I found him here this morning, in the back.”

The color left Niall’s face. “How?” he said, his voice rough.

“It looks like a heart attack, but we don’t know anything for sure.”

“Poor man. Never caught a break in his life.” Niall dropped onto a bar stool. “I could do with a coffee, maybe with a drop of something in it? It’s not every day that a man loses one of his oldest friends like this with no warnin’.”

“I’ll do it,” Rose murmured and set about messing with coffee and mugs.

Lucky Rose, with something to do,
Maura thought. She was at a loss: she barely knew Niall, and Aidan even less, beyond exchanging a handful of sentences, and she sucked at playing the sympathetic listener, even if it was part of her job description. “Listen, Niall, do you know if Aidan has family who should be contacted? The gardaí will want to know.”

Niall shook his head. “Once I might have been able to tell you—I think he has a sister somewhere. But we’ve been out of touch for years. It was only by chance that I ran into him in Cork city the other day, and we got to talkin’, and I persuaded him to come down fer last night’s do. Damn, this is not the way things should have ended.”

Niall looked sincerely shaken. Rose added a splash of whiskey to his coffee mug and slid it wordlessly across the bar. Niall grabbed it and swallowed half at once, then set it down again.

Maura debated mentioning that the death wasn’t quite natural, but decided it wasn’t her place—let the gardaí tell him, if they wanted to. “Did he join in the playing last night?” Maura asked. “I didn’t have much chance to listen in the back.”

“We all took our turn. Even the young lads. I didn’t take note of when Aidan sat in, but he was part of it.”

“Look, do you have any idea why he would have been in the pub here after we’d closed?” she asked. “Did Aidan have any problem with any of the musicians here last night?”

Niall was shaking his head before she’d even finished speaking. “He hadn’t seen the lads fer years, decades even. If he had any troubles, he brought them with him. As fer the other thing, though, many’s the time we used to bed down here, upstairs or wherever we could find a bit of open floor. Old Mick didn’t mind—he gave those of us who played regular the keys to the place, although that was more like his stamp of approval, for any of us could have found our way in without.” He fell silent, staring into his dark coffee.

At least now she had an explanation for the key in Aidan’s pocket: he had gotten it either from Old Mick himself or from someone else who’d played at Sullivan’s all those years ago.

Maura looked up to see several people standing outside, reluctant to come in. Most likely someone had in fact seen the coroner’s van and was now spreading the word about a death at Sullivan’s. How long would it take them to put a name to the dead man? They nudged each other and nodded toward the bar inside. Clearly they recognized Niall, but weren’t sure whether to bother him. Maura leaned forward. “Niall, do you feel up to talking with your fans, or would you rather go somewhere more private?”

He looked up at her then. “Give me a bit to get myself together first.”

“Come sit with me by the fire, Niall,” Billy said. “They’ll leave you alone ’til yer ready.”

“Thanks, Billy.” Niall stood up and joined Billy in the corner next to the fireplace, and they settled themselves there, Niall with his back to the room. That emboldened the people to come into the pub, leaning on the bar to order their pints but sneaking the occasional glance at the two men in the corner, although they maintained a respectful distance.

Maura gestured to Mick and Jimmy to follow her, while Rose was serving the new customers. They retreated to the hall next to the closed doors that led to the back room. “We need a story to give out,” Maura said in a low voice. “Suggestions?”

“The news’ll come out soon enough,” Mick said. “We might as well tell people that it was Aidan and he died here last night, and let them decide if they want to stay.”

“If Niall stays, I’m betting they will as well,” Jimmy added.

“What about the rest of the musicians?” Maura asked. “If Niall decided to stop by, they may too. A lot of them knew Aidan, right?” Maura’s phone rang in her pocket, and when she fished it out she recognized Sean’s number again. She held up a finger to Mick and Jimmy, then turned and walked into the far corner before answering. She looked quickly around to be sure that no patrons could hear her. “Sean? Is there something new?”

Sean came straight to the point. “I’m looking fer Niall Cronin, and fer Timothy Reilly as well.”

“Niall’s right here. I haven’t seen Timothy today. Uh, Sean, how much can I tell the people who come in today?”

“Tell whoever comes in that Aidan Crowley is dead, and it looks like it was his heart. It still might have been an accident, and no one meant to kill him. But don’t say more than you have to. Can you keep Niall Cronin there?” Sean asked.

“I don’t think he’s in any hurry. He seems kind of upset. He came looking for Aidan, wondering if he needed a ride back to Cork.”

“Well, keep him there. I’ll need a word with him.”

“Are you coming back now?”

“I am.”

Maura thought for a moment. “Look, are you going to have to round up everybody and interview them one at a time? I hate to sound cold, but that would be lousy for business here. And there’s no place here to do it, unless you use the back room.”

“I understand yer concern, Maura. Truth be told, it might be best if we kept this low-key—people might be more willing to talk to us. Just sit in the pub and chat with ’em—less formal than an interview.”

“Can you do that? I mean, just sit here and talk?”

“It’s not the way we’d choose to do it, but given the circumstances it might be the best. I’ll see yeh in an hour, no more, Maura.”

“Thanks, Sean.” It was kind of an unusual interview strategy, but she agreed that the informal setting, combined with a few pints, might loosen some tongues. And given how many people had passed through Sullivan’s the night before—and how small the Skibbereen police force was—it might be the best chance to get any real information while it was still fresh. Bringing in gardaí from other stations would probably slow down the process, which wasn’t good—not that there were many other stations, or men to pull from them. And then individual interviews could take a week, and a lot of the people would be gone long before that. This was the best chance.

She ended the call, then turned to Mick and Jimmy, who didn’t pretend they hadn’t been listening. “Our story is that Aidan died of a heart attack, which is true anyway. It just might not be the whole truth. Sean says he’s leaving the morgue now, so he’ll be here in an hour or so. Until then, we should listen to what everyone who was here last night has to say. Don’t ask questions, just let people talk, and pay attention. Sound good?”

“Gettin’ this group to talk will be easy, especially with a pint or two in them,” Jimmy said. “Should we offer a free round on account of Aidan?”

The suggestion made sense, even if it meant saying good-bye to a chunk of the day’s profits. “Good idea. But one round only, please—we can’t afford more than that. Let’s go.”

“I’ll explain to Rosie,” Jimmy said, leading the way.

The church crowd started trickling in a half hour later; more followed a while after that, likely after first going home or to the hotel for Sunday dinner. By midafternoon the place was packed. Sean had come in and kind of set up shop sometime earlier while Maura wasn’t watching, and she’d been careful to let him go about his official business, although he wasn’t wearing a uniform. As she had guessed, he was doing informal interviews. When she had time to think, Maura wondered why Tim hadn’t shown his face yet. Niall hadn’t left; in fact, he had settled himself on a stool in the center of the bar and was holding forth to anyone who would listen, and there was no shortage of eager ears. Niall still looked sad, and the snatches of conversation that Maura heard revolved around the days when Aidan and Niall had crossed paths while playing in Dublin. She hoped that Mick was keeping up with who said what; Maura was having trouble following all the talk, but then, she didn’t know half the people there.

She brought Billy a fresh pint when he was alone for a brief moment. She set it on the table, then dropped into the chair next to him.

“How’re yeh doing, Maura?” Billy asked softly.

She considered for a moment. She felt sad, mostly. A bit angry. Some self-pity over how an otherwise extraordinary event had gotten messed up. Worried about what might come next. Finally she said, “Okay, I think. How close do you think Niall and Aidan were, really?”

“Back in the day, I’d say they were mates. But it has been a long time, decades even, since they’d gotten together. People do drift apart.” Billy studied Maura’s face. “I see young Murphy’s come in,” he said, nodding toward the opposite corner. “He’s doin’ more listenin’ than talkin’.”

“Yeah, he told me he was coming,” Maura said. “He figured this was the best way to get information. Besides, rounding up and interviewing everyone who showed up last night would be a nightmare, even if it’s possible.”

“Smart lad, that one. He’s right.”

“Do you have any idea who might have had something against Aidan?”

“I’m flattered that yer askin’, but I hadn’t seen the man in years. He was never a harsh man, nor much of a fighter—the heart, yeh know.”

“I know, you told me. And Sean confirmed it. Any idea why he would have come back here after closing?”

“Looking for a place to kip for a bit? Old Mick used to let the players stay on. Maybe he didn’t want to ask you, seein’ as you don’t know how it was back then. I dunno. Keep talking to folk and see what comes out of their mouths.” Billy looked up to see another group of men coming in the door. Maura recognized a couple of them as musicians from the night before.

“I’d better get back to work,” she said. “Let me know if you hear anything interesting.” She was about to add “or tell Sean” but realized that the odds of Old Billy navigating his way all the way across the room to where Sean sat were slim to none. But if Sean was as smart as Billy thought, he’d find his way to Billy soon enough.

There was a slight lull at about four, and Maura slipped into the chair opposite Sean, setting a mug of tea in front of him. “You look like you can use this.”

“That I can. I’ve been talking fer hours.”

“Have you learned anything new?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be all night writing down what I think I heard, and I may have missed a lot, but I still don’t see that we’ve made much progress.”

“Poor man!” Maura laughed. “There’s a lot of paperwork back home for me too, so don’t feel too sorry for yourself. And you should talk to Billy—he’s paying attention. Has anybody said anything that leads you to think—” She stopped when Sean fixed her with a stern glare. “To think they think there’s anything unexpected about this?” she finished carefully.

“I can’t say.”

She’d expected him to say that. She looked around the crowded room. “This may take quite a while. Will you be staying all evening?”

“Sergeant Regan will be coming in soon, and I’ll go back to the station and try to set down what I’ve heard. There’ll be the regular meeting in the mornin’, and I’ll call you after and let you know where we are by then. Keep talking with your lot here, will ya? They might see something differently than I do, knowing more of the people and all, and they might have heard something new durin’ the day today.”

“I’ll do that.” Of course, she would have done it even if Sean hadn’t asked. “Unless, of course, you guys have it all wrapped up by then.”

Sean smiled. “Hope lives on. Thanks fer the tea. Now, go on about yer business, so I can do mine.”

Maura stood up. “Okay, then, I will.”

She joined Rose behind the bar and then realized again that she hadn’t seen Tim all day. His absence now was a little strange. Maybe he’d been spooked when he heard about Aidan’s death. “Have you seen or talked to Tim today?” she asked Rose.

“That I haven’t, and I’ve been worried about him. You’d think he’d be all over this—all these idols of his together talkin’ about the past, not carin’ who’s listenin’. Maybe I should run over to the Keohanes’ house and see if he’s all right?,” Rose volunteered eagerly. “If yeh can spare me, that is.”

The crowd was manageable, at least temporarily, and there might not be another opportunity for Rose. “If you move fast,” Maura said. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a busy night, and I’ll need you here. Tell Tim that Niall is here—that might bring him.”