Buried in a Bog (25 page)

And stopped, senses alert. There was someone in the room. She couldn’t make out much, other than that he was male, dressed in dark clothing, and huddled in the farthest corner, his back against the door that led to the rest of the house. Her choices: back out and run like hell to…where? Scream her head off and hope the Keohanes upstairs woke up before the guy killed her? Neither seemed useful, so she decided to push back.

Odds were it was Brown Car Guy—again. “What do you want?” she demanded. “If it’s money, I don’t have any, or anything worth taking. And if you’re the jerk who’s been following me, I’ve told the police all about it, and they’re looking for you.”

The man didn’t answer, but he finally made his move, lunging straight at her. But she’d anticipated it, and instead of retreating backward as no doubt he had expected, she feinted to the side, ducking under the weapon he was swinging. Stick, pipe? It was too dark to tell, but whatever it was, Maura was sure it could do some damage if it connected.

He turned quickly, but Maura had jumped over the bed and down on the other side, nearer the door. Her defensive options hadn’t improved much: she could throw a blanket over him, slam him with a pillow…or there was the lamp, an inexpensive china thing. As the attacker came at her again, Maura grabbed up the lamp and walloped him on the side of the head with it. The flimsy lamp base made a satisfying crash, shards of china flying. Her attacker cursed, stumbling backward and fell out the glass door, which Maura had left open.

The noise had finally wakened the household, and Maura heard the thud of heavy feet above her. Outside she saw a bobbing light—a flashlight? The man on the ground clearly saw it too, and he leapt up and disappeared, running away from the house toward the lane that ran along the harbor. Thanks to his dark clothes, he disappeared quickly into the night, as the bearer of the flashlight came around the corner and peered into the room.

“Maura? You all right?”

“Sean?” Maura said incredulously. “What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you going after him?”

Even as she spoke, she could hear the sound of a car starting up on the road above, its engine loud and rough.

“He’s gone,” Sean said. “Could we get some light here?”

Maura looked at the remains of the lamp in her hand and started to laugh. “I think I just killed the lamp. Come on in—there’s a switch by the door, at least.” Even as she moved toward the door to the hall, it flew open to show Tom Keohane, a heavy wrench in his hand, followed closely by his wife in a droopy robe. Ellen found the light switch quickly.

“What in the name of all that’s holy is going on here?” Even in her chenille bathrobe Ellen bristled as she peered around her husband’s broad back. “Sean Murphy, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“I’ve only just arrived, ma’am. I was doing last rounds after closing time and heard sounds of a scuffle down here. I was just about to ask Maura here what had happened. It seems someone broke in.”

“He was waiting for me when I came in,” Maura said tersely.

“Did you get a look at him?” Sean asked.

“Not his face. It was dark.” Maura looked at the remains of the lamp in her hand, then tossed it onto the bed. “Sorry about the lamp.”

A sleepy Kevin appeared behind his parents, rubbing his eyes. Ellen turned and told him, “Back to bed with you—now!” and Kevin disappeared quickly. Ellen pushed past her husband. “Don’t worry yourself about it. Did he harm you?”

“He never touched me. I think he was kind of surprised when I hit him.”

“Good on you! Thomas, will you see to the door there? Maura, Sean, come up and I’ll fix you both a nice cup of tea.”

“Ma’am, I need to ask…” Sean began.

“Of course you do, but you can do it just as well upstairs. Come on, then.”

Sean and Maura exchanged a look and followed. When they arrived in the kitchen, Ellen had already set the kettle to boil.

“Sit, the two of you,” Ellen commanded.

“Won’t we wake your children?” Maura asked.

“Ah, they’d sleep through the end of the world. Kevin only noticed because he was next door. The others’ll be right mad that they missed all the fun.”

Sean pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and sent Ellen a warning glance. She smiled and busied herself with making tea. “Will you tell me now what happened, Maura?”

“I left Sullivan’s at closing time. I crossed the road, but I didn’t see any cars or anyone moving. I walked down the driveway and came around the back, like I always do. When I went to open the door, I realized it was already unlocked,
and when I opened it, I could see someone lurking inside by the other door.”

“And you didn’t run?” Sean said, incredulous.

“And go where, out there in the dark? I’d probably just trip over something and he’d catch up with me. And there was no time to wake the Keohanes.”

“Good point. Description?” Sean said in an official voice. “Or would this be your mate with the brown car again?”

“I couldn’t see much, but it’s likely, isn’t it? Male, maybe an inch or two taller than me, dressed all in black or some other dark color. Come to think of it, I bet he had gloves on, because I didn’t notice his hands at all. He had some kind of bat or pipe or something, and he came at me. I ducked and got around back of him, and when he tried again—that’s when I used the lamp on his head.”

“Hard enough to leave a mark, do you think?” Sean said, making a note.

“At least a good lump. But the lamp shattered, so he might be bleeding. Then he fell out the door.”

“Anything missing from your room?”

“I haven’t had time to check, but I don’t have anything worth much. I carry my passport and cash in my bag, which I keep with me. Although right now I think it’s on the floor downstairs.”

“Mrs. Keohane, any trouble in the neighborhood lately?”

“Of course not, Sean. Most of us have little to tempt a thief—there are better pickings elsewhere, maybe over in Glandore. Unless it was just mischief, but why would he be in Maura’s room, then?” She filled three mugs with dark tea and handed them around.

After Ellen had sat down, she and Sean turned to look at Maura. “What?” Maura demanded. “I don’t know what’s going on, Sean, but this makes three times the guy’s gone after me, assuming it’s the same man.” When Ellen looked confused, Maura added, “I’ll fill you in later, Ellen, but it makes me think that this has nothing to do with you or with the neighborhood.”

Ellen’s husband, Tom, stomped up the back stairs and joined them in the kitchen. “Door’s fine—I put in a bar to keep it shut. I’ll be going back to bed.” He lumbered down the hall.

“So, what now?” Maura demanded. “Do you call in crime scene people, take fingerprints and all that?”

Sean’s mouth twitched in a half smile. “We call them out only for the serious crimes. I don’t mean to belittle what happened here, but it doesn’t qualify.”

Maura stood up abruptly and paced around the kitchen. She felt wired and shaky—too much adrenaline? “So you’re not going to do
anything
?”

“I didn’t mean that. Of course I’ll report this at the station, and we’ll look to see if it’s happened to anyone else around. But we have little to work with, especially if he was wearing gloves, Maura. I wish I could be of more use to you. It’s good you were alert enough to escape any serious harm.”

“Yeah, right, thanks a lot. If I hadn’t, maybe you’d be investigating another killing. I bet you’re all jumping for joy now that you’re all learning how to handle murders.” Sean looked stricken, and Maura immediately took a deep breath and apologized. “Sorry. I know you’re doing what you can. But I’d just like to know why anybody would want to do me
harm. I haven’t done anything to anybody. I’ve never even been here before. I show up, and suddenly there’s a crime wave?”

Sean was staring at a point somewhere over Maura’s head, thinking.

“Hello, Mr. Policeman?”

He brought his attention back to Maura. “Sorry, I was trying to see a pattern here. You’re right—this all seems to have started when you arrived, a week ago. The old body in the bog, the mugging in Skibbereen, your car accident, the guy threatening you in the cemetery, and now this.”

Ellen looked shocked. “It’s never been like this! Sean, what’s your lot doing about it?”

“Investigating as best we can. We’re a small department, but bringing in people from the outside wouldn’t be much use, now, would it, when there’s little more than a partial license plate to go on, and we’re working on that? Sorry, Maura. Will you be all right here?”

Where else would she go at three o’clock in the morning? Maura wondered. “I’ll get by. I don’t think he’d dare come back tonight.”

“You’re welcome to the divan in the parlor, Maura,” Ellen said anxiously.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that, Ellen,” Maura said.

Sean looked relieved. “I’ll report all this to Detective Hurley in the morning. I’ll let you know what he has to say.”

“Thank you, I guess. I sure don’t have any better ideas,” Maura said.

Ellen stood up. “I’ll see you out, Sean, and lock up behind you.” They left together.

Maura sat without moving, cradling the cooling cup of
tea. She could see no logic in what had happened to her over the past week.

She wanted to go to sleep but wondered if she’d be able to face spending the night in her room. Still, surely the Keohane kids would be up and about early on a Monday, and she doubted she could sleep through that from the couch. Downstairs it was, then—but maybe she should find a sturdy club to keep under her pillow. She stood up slowly and met Ellen coming back down the hall.

“I’m running on empty, Ellen. I’m going to go to bed.”

“You’re sure, then?” Ellen asked, searching her face. “You don’t want the divan?”

“I am. Don’t worry—I’ll be fine. Maybe by tomorrow the gardaí will have caught whoever is behind this.” Maura wasn’t sure she believed that, since the sole evidence seemed to be a partial license plate, but she could hope, couldn’t she?

“God bless you, aren’t you the brave one! But I’m sure my Tom will sleep with one ear out, in case there’s any more trouble. Good night, then.”

“Good night, Ellen.” Maura went back downstairs, guided by the overhead light that had been left on. In her room she surveyed the damage: minimal. Thomas had removed all the shards of the lamp. Otherwise, everything looked the same as always. Maura lay down on the bed, and then she was out.

I
t seemed only minutes later than Maura was awakened by an insistent rapping at her door. “Maura, are you in there? Maura?” Ellen’s voice. Maura looked at her watch and was amazed to see that it was after nine.

Since she’d fallen asleep fully dressed, she rolled to the edge of the bed, stood up, and went to open the door. “Ellen? What’s up?”

“You’ve visitors to see you, that’s what,” Ellen said in a near whisper.

“Who?”

“Sean Murphy from last night, and he’s brought along his boss, Detective Hurley. They’re waiting in the lounge. Will you be wanting breakfast?”

Good grief—Sean had said he’d talk to her in the morning, but why so early? “Sure, fine. Do I have time to wash up?”

“I’ll keep them entertained. You take your time.” Ellen closed the door quietly, and Maura grabbed some clean clothes and dashed for the bathroom.

She emerged in record time and roughly toweled her hair dry, then dressed and headed up the stairs. The two men stood politely when she came in. “Sit down, please,” Maura said.

Ellen appeared with a tray bearing empty cups and plates. “Let the poor girl have her breakfast, will you? There’s nothing that won’t keep that long.” She left again, and Maura could hear Gráinne whining from the kitchen.

“Have you found the guy with the car?” Maura asked.

It was Detective Hurley who answered. “No, but we’ve traced that partial plate you gave us, and there’s only one local vehicle that fits the description. It belongs to a Denis McCarthy, over in Clogagh.”

Despite a lack of caffeine, Maura came to attention. “McCarthy? Related to Australian Denis Flaherty?”

Patrick Hurley smiled. “I wouldn’t jump so fast to that conclusion—there are plenty of McCarthys in this county. But it could be more than a coincidence. Families tend to stick to the old naming patterns around here.”

“I’ve noticed,” Maura said. Every other man in the pub seemed to be called Patrick or Michael or Sean. “Where the heck is this Clogagh?”

“Not far.”

Ellen reappeared, this time bearing a carafe, a teapot, and plates of scones and toast. “Here we go. There’s butter and jam in those pots there. I’ll go see to Gráinne, if you don’t mind.” She vanished again, leaving Maura and the two men staring at the trays of food and drink.

Maura broke the silence first. “I need coffee. How about you two?” The men nodded, so Maura filled three cups, then helped herself to a scone and jam. “So,” she said through the crumbs, “why’d it take two of you to come and tell me about this?”

“I’d like you to accompany us to see if you recognize anyone,” Detective Hurley said.

“Where? This Clogagh place?”

He nodded. “Yes. This particular Denis McCarthy is an older man, which doesn’t fit your description of your attacker, but I understand from the local guards that his grandson has been living with him, helping him look after the dairy farm. His name’s Jerry. He’s twenty-five—close to your age—and until recently he’s been living in Dublin with his father. I guess he got into a bit of trouble up there, so his father sent him down here to do some honest work on his grandfather’s farm. He might be a more likely lad for this harassment.”