Buried in a Bog (14 page)

Traffic had picked up a bit now, so Maura carefully crossed the road and strolled down the main street, which curved gently to the right. Most buildings were two or three stories tall, and painted in a range of bright colors, with no two quite alike. She passed a bank with an ATM—good to know, even though there was not much money in her account. Further along there was a bridge, and through the gap in the buildings there she could see a fair-sized river, with open ground—marshes?—nestled in its broad loop. At that point the street name changed to Bridge Street, and she continued to follow it, ignoring the rumblings of her stomach, until she came to the heritage center the woman at the tourist office had mentioned. Certainly at this end of town the buildings were drabber, and more clearly residential.
She crossed and retraced her steps on the opposite side of the street, noting a bookstore and many more small shops. Finally she stopped at a pub that had tables in the window and a menu posted. It looked affordable, so she pulled open the door and hesitated in the doorway a moment, until the lone waiter noticed her and waved at the array of empty tables. She picked one nearest the window on the street, so she could watch people go by. Once again she had to wonder, how did places like this stay in business? Could they all survive on the proceeds of the tourist season alone?

“You’ll be wanting lunch?” the waiter said, handing her a short menu.

“Sure. What’s good?”

He clearly was not very interested. “The stew’s the special today.”

Maura scanned the menu quickly. “I’ll have the stew, then, and a coffee.” She hoped the Irish stew didn’t come from a can, since this would be her first meal in a restaurant since she’d arrived in Ireland.

The waiter quickly returned and deposited coffee in a thick mug, along with a plate of sliced brown bread and wrapped butter packets. At least the bread looked fresh and locally made, and Maura finished one piece before the bowl of stew appeared. When she tasted it, she was happily surprised: wherever it came from, it was delicious, and the cook hadn’t skimped on the chunks of lamb. She finished it quickly, as well as a second slice of bread, and accepted a refill of her coffee before pushing the now-bare plate away and spreading out her maps on the tabletop.

She started with the larger regional map, tracing the road
from Leap to Skibbereen. She was surprised at how far inland she was. Leap was also well inland, but opened on the broad harbor she had seen from the Keohanes’ house. She tried sounding out in her mind some of the names of what must be townlands marked on the map, and gave up quickly—they all had so many letters, and none of them sounded like anything she’d heard anyone say. Not that she really needed to give voice to them. She knew the way to Knockskagh and back, and people could tell her how to get from one place to another.

She turned to the tourist map for Skibbereen, whose pamphlet included a few facts about the town. The population was only slightly over two thousand, but the labels on the map showed a surprising number of public amenities—a sports center, something labeled “Winter Wonderland,” a couple of “Industrial Estates,” which she interpreted to mean factory sites. Whatever the town’s size, it seemed to be thriving, at least on paper.

She sat back, feeling unexpectedly content. Her stomach was full, and she had some spare time to…be a tourist. Something she’d never really had a chance to do. She didn’t even know downtown Boston well, beyond the occasional school field trip and a couple of jobs in the swankier areas. Here she had the chance to get to know an unfamiliar place, and it was small enough that she could actually accomplish that. It was a nice feeling.

The waiter ambled by and deposited her check on the table. Maura fished in her bag, pulled out some bills, and looked up at him. “Hey, can you tell me where I can buy some clothes?”

“There’s a couple of shops down the street that might do, if you’re not looking for high fashion,” he said, pocketing the bills. “If it’s fancy tourist stuff you’re wanting…”

Maura held up a hand. “Just stuff I can wear around here.”

“Then try Donovan’s. Ta.” He wandered off again, leaving Maura to gather up her bag and maps and venture forth in search of blue jeans.

A
fter a modestly successful shopping foray that left her bank account less depleted than she had feared, Maura arrived at Sullivan’s to find both Rose and Jimmy at work. Rose looked up when Maura walked in. “Ah, there you are. I came in to finish up what we started yesterday—easier to do when it’s bright.”

“You’re right. I see your father’s here.”

“He’s brought in supplies, and I think he’s swapping the barrels below.”

“There’s a basement here? I haven’t seen it.”

Rose shivered. “Dark and damp it is, so close to the water and all. But it keeps the beer cool, for free.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Maura hesitated a moment. “I reread that letter last night.”

“Oh?” Rose answered, but with little interest.

“When I read it again I realized that Denis Flaherty had mentioned an uncle who disappeared in the 1930s, and I found myself wondering if the dead man in the bog could be connected.”

At least she’d captured Rose’s attention. “How strange would that be? Him gone so long, and he pops up just as this letter appears?”

“I agree,” Maura said. “It would be a heck of a coincidence. But I decided that the police should know what was in it, just in case it turned out to be true.”

“Did you now? Did you take it to the gardaí?”

“Well, I tried, after I talked to Mrs. Nolan.”

“And what did they say?”

“They were very busy and told me to come back another day. I got the feeling there was something going on, but of course they didn’t tell me what it was. I saw the head guy walk in, and everybody jumped.”

“Will you be going back?”

“I guess, if I can find the time. Anything else going on here?”

Rose opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of cracking wood, several loud thumps, and a howl, all issuing from—the basement?

Rose ran toward the basement door, and Maura followed. “Da?” Rose called down into the dark. “Are you all right?”

“The fecking stair gave way. I’ve broken me arm, I think.”

Rose looked stricken. “Oh no!” She looked stunned, and helpless. Maura was reminded again of how young she was.

“Is there another way in and out of the basement?” Maura demanded.

“No. Well, yes, but it’s locked and nobody’s had the key in a donkey’s age.”

“So we’ll have to get him out this way.” Maura pushed past Rose and peered down at what remained of the rickety stairs, and Jimmy Sweeney sprawled at the bottom, lit by a single feeble bulb hanging from a cord. She could tell that his arm was bent in a direction that nature had not intended. She could also tell that a couple of the treads of the stairs were splintered—but luckily not all of them. “Jimmy, don’t move. I’m coming down.”

Maura stepped on to the top tread gingerly, but it held her weight. So did the second and third. By the fourth tread, the stairs were protesting, weakened by the missing treads, but Maura carefully felt her way down, one step at a time, placing her feet at the edges and managing to bypass the broken ones. Once at the bottom, she knelt by Jimmy, who was pale and sweating, even in the cool basement. “Where’s the nearest doctor, Jimmy?” she asked.

He looked up at her blankly. “What? We don’t have one here.”

“Where, then? Skibbereen?”

He shook his head. “Only a clinic there, and they’d only send me to hospital.”

Maura was getting frustrated. “Okay, Jimmy, where is the nearest hospital?”

“There’s one in Bandon, but it’s small. The big one’s in Cork.”

“The city?” When Jimmy nodded, she asked, “Is there an ambulance service?”

He nodded, then added, “But there’s no guarantee they’d be here any time soon, and this hurts like the very devil.
You could drive me to Cork?” He looked plaintively up at her.

Maura quailed inwardly. Drive to Cork? She could barely manage country lanes, and he wanted her to drive in a city? But clearly Jimmy was in pain, and it didn’t seem right not to do something. “What about Rose? Can she drive?”

“We’ve no car, and she’s never learned.”

No help there. “Can you direct me to the hospital?”

He nodded. Maura stood up, then called up the stairs to Rose. “Rose, your father wants me to take him to the hospital in Cork.”

Luckily Rose had recovered from her first panic. “Right. What can I do to help?”

“Stay there—I don’t think the stairs will take the weight of all of us at once. I’ll try to get him upstairs, and then we’ll go in my car.”

She turned back to the man on the floor, trying to remember her rudimentary first aid classes. “Anything else hurting you, Jimmy? Did you hit your head?” When he shook his head, Maura said, “You’ve got to stand up now, so you can get up the stairs. Here, let me help.” She went around to his good side and grabbed him under the arm, and somehow managed to get him to his feet, although he complained steadily. “Can you handle the stairs?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll stay behind you, and Rose will be waiting at the top. Ready?”

Slowly but surely he succeeded in climbing up what was left of the stairs, with Rose pulling him up the last two steps. At the top he leaned against the wall, panting, but at least his color was better.

Maura followed quickly. “My car’s out front—just a few steps, Jimmy, and then you can lay down again.”

“I’m good,” he said, pushing off from the wall, wincing, then clutching his injured arm to his chest. Maura led him out the front door, with Rose trailing anxiously behind.

“I’m coming with you, Da,” she said.

“Who’ll look after the pub?” Jimmy protested.

Maura looked at him. “Call Mick Nolan, if you’re that worried. Rose, you’re coming with us.”

“Don’t worry, Da, I’ve got me mobile. I’ll text Mick. And I’ll put up a sign sayin’ we’re closed for an emergency, shall I?” Jimmy waved a hand at her feebly, and Maura nodded her approval.

While Maura settled Jimmy in the backseat, Rose walked a few feet away to send the text. She’d returned by the time Maura climbed into the driver’s seat. “It’s done, Da. Mick answered that he’d be round in an hour or two.”

“Then let’s go,” Maura said grimly. The sooner she got on the road, the sooner she’d get off of it. At least it was daylight. “Which way?”

“Take the main road, and I’ll talk you through the roundabouts,” Jimmy said. He lay back and shut his eyes, cradling his injured arm.

The drive proved easier than she had expected. Most of the route was the main highway, although it did weave through a few small towns along the way, but Rose helped her navigate the turns, and traffic was light. It turned out that she didn’t need to go into the center of Cork, because the hospital lay on the south side of the city. At least Jimmy had managed to fall at midday; if he had done it during rush hour, she might have been a second casualty. Maura fumbled her
way through a couple of roundabouts and sets of stoplights until the large brick bulk of the hospital loomed on her left.

“Do we go to the emergency room?” she asked Rose as she waited for the light at the entrance to change.

“The what?” Rose said. “Oh, right, A and E. That’s Accidents and Emergencies. Turn in here, then go right quickly, and then left. I’ll see to getting him inside.”

Maura followed Rose’s instructions, surprised at how many people seemed to be suffering from accidents and emergencies: there was no place to park. “I’ll drop you off, then see if I can find parking somewhere. Here, let me help you out, Jimmy.”

She pulled on the parking brake, and between them, Rose and Maura hauled Jimmy out of the backseat. On the pavement he took a moment to steady himself, then with Rose hovering anxiously, he shuffled toward the entrance. Several impatient honks reminded Maura that she was blocking the drive, and she climbed back into the car and pulled away from the curb. Now where? She tried to recall whether she had any money on her, if she had to pay for parking. If she could
find
parking. There was a lot across the drive from the A and E, but it looked full. Surely a hospital this size must have more parking somewhere? She got herself turned back the way she came, and began a slow circuit of the hospital building. She stopped suddenly when a uniformed police officer appeared—and then she realized she recognized him: Sean Murphy. What on earth was he doing here? She pulled up alongside the curb quickly. He looked at the car once, then looked again and recognized her, and came closer. Maura rolled down the window.

“Fancy seeing you again. Everything all right?” he asked.

“Jimmy Sweeney fell, and it looks like he broke his arm.”

Officer Murphy nodded. “Ah, that one. Wouldn’t be the first time. So you delivered him here?”

“There didn’t seem to be anyone else to drive him. What are
you
doing here?”

He looked around him before answering, but the pavement was empty. “There’s been another death.”

“What?” Had she heard right?

Officer Murphy rested his elbow on the roof of the car and leaned closer. “A man was found dead in Skibbereen this morning, apparently the victim of a robbery. That’s why I’m here—this is where they do the autopsies for the county. I was picking up the report for the poor Bog Man and delivering the next case.”