Carla Neggers, page 21
“We’re meeting for breakfast.” Julianne saw the dark circles under his eyes and felt guilty at her own bad night. He’d known Lindsey far better, even if he hadn’t been the one to find her body. She said softly, “I’m really sorry about what happened.”
He nodded grimly. “Same here. Wasn’t your fault. Wasn’t anyone’s fault.” He blew out a breath at the sky, then looked again at Julianne. “Have you seen Philip this morning? Do you know him—Kitty’s son?”
“I saw him at the hotel yesterday, but he was working. I haven’t seen him yet this morning.”
“He lost it last night at the pub. I hope he’s okay. I should have handled the situation better. I forget he’s just a kid. The police had been here, asking questions—they want to piece together Lindsey’s last day, figure out what she was doing out on the rocks. Philip was probably the last one to see her alive. It’s eating him up.” Brent shivered in a gust of wind. “Damn. It’s colder out here than I expected.”
Julianne turned so that the wind was at her back. “Did Lindsey plan on tearing down this place and building a new facility?”
“Lindsey had a million plans.” He sniffled, whether from the wind, the cold or raw emotion, Julianne couldn’t tell. “I feel like we’re all under the microscope.”
“Maybe that’s because we are.”
He grinned at her. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you?”
She smiled back at him. “I guess not.”
But she saw his seriousness return and felt her own smile fade as he walked over to the van and pulled open the door on the driver’s side. It still disconcerted her that it was on the right. He shut the door again. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’ve been spinning in circles since yesterday.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I know the police have a job to do, and it must look weird to them that Lindsey stopped in Declan’s Cross on Monday without telling any of us. None of us saw her. Well, except Philip, but that was just on the fly—he didn’t talk to her.”
Julianne put her hood up against another chilly gust of wind. The tide would be up, she thought. She glanced at the diving gear piled by the side door of the garage. She wasn’t much of a diver herself and wondered what Lindsey had had in mind for her to do here. Maybe just get ideas from her, as a marine biologist? Bounce ideas of her own off her?
She turned back to Brent. “The police will keep asking questions until they’re satisfied Lindsey’s death was an accident. Even if it was, they’ll want to know if anyone was with her.”
“And left her out there, you mean?”
“Panicked, maybe.”
He nodded thoughtfully, less shocked than Julianne expected him to be. “I can see that. The police wanting to know, I mean. Not someone panicking and leaving her out there and the rest of us to wonder. I feel like a royal jerk for assuming she’d stood you up because she was a flake.” He pivoted, gravel crunching under him, and went to the back of the van. “All the diving we did together and never a mistake, never a close call. Then one wrong step up on an Irish ledge and she’s gone.”
Julianne shoved her hands in her pockets. It felt like November this morning. Cold, wet, no promise of Indian summer. “You and Lindsey...”
“There was nothing serious between us,” Brent said. “She knew that. It’s what she wanted. Sharing the cottage with you was a way to get some space. She was thinking she might rent it herself and stay here through the winter. Get this place set up.”
“You?”
“She knew I would move on eventually.”
“The bad-boy diver,” Julianne said with a smile.
He laughed, despite his obvious sadness. “Yeah, I guess. Her dad thinks all divers are bad boys.” He tugged open the back of the van. “What about you? Any bad boys in your life?”
“Don’t I wish.” She wasn’t sure her tone came across as joking as she’d meant.
“Special Agent Donovan’s a bad-boy type, isn’t he?”
“He comes across that way sometimes.”
“He and the lady FBI agent are an item. Isn’t that a little awkward? Three’s a crowd and all that?”
Julianne noticed the back of the van was crammed full of gear. She suspected Brent would want to get out in the water again as soon as possible. “Are the police finished with you? Can you leave if you want to?”
“Yeah. No problem.” He bit down on his lower lip as if he were trying to control a wave of emotion. “I’ve gone through some tough stuff, but losing Lindsey—it’s awful. I liked her a lot. I’ll miss her.”
“Where will you go after here?”
“Caribbean. I’m not exactly sure which island. I can pick up some work there. Clear my head. Lindsey rented this place. I wasn’t involved. I’ll help her dad close up shop if he wants me to, but it’s up to him to figure out what’s next. It’s not easy to be here. I found that out last night. I don’t know if I ever saw what it could be the way she did.” He paused, visibly holding back tears, then cleared his throat and nodded to the van. “I have a few more things to toss in here.”
“I’m really sorry, Brent,” Julianne said, the words sounding empty to her despite the genuine sentiment behind them.
“Me, too.” He pushed a cardboard box, making a few more inches of room in the back of the van. “What about you? It’s not the Ireland trip you imagined. What are your plans? Will you stay at the cottage on your own?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m at the O’Byrne House right now.”
He stood straight. “Your FBI friends insisted?”
“It didn’t take much insisting.”
“I have a couple friends in law enforcement. They’re great, but they tend to think the worst. Trust me, no one around here is worried about a killer on the loose.”
“I hope not,” Julianne said.
He walked over to diving gear heaped by the side door. “This is all lightweight stuff. I’ve got most of the heavier equipment loaded into the van.” He grabbed two pairs of high-end goggles and brought them to the van. “What’s your specialty in marine science? I don’t think Lindsey ever said.”
“Cetaceans.”
“Can’t go wrong. Everyone loves cetaceans. Toothed whales and baleen whales. Dolphins, porpoises, humpback whales, right whales, beaked whales. Every kind of whale. Cetus meaning whale, or ‘large sea mammal.’” He grinned, looking more animated, less exhausted. “See? I picked up a few things diving besides a bad-boy reputation.”
Julianne smiled, more at ease herself. “Very good, Mr. Corwin.”
As he placed the goggles in the van, she noticed Philip edging onto the parking area. He looked haggard, his hair sticking out, his jacket hanging half off his shoulders.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
The wind was dying down, but Julianne still felt the chill in the air as she nodded at him. “Good morning.”
Brent stood back from the van. “Philip. Hell, man. Sorry about last night. How are you this morning? Hanging in there?”
“Never better,” Philip said, his appearance belying his words. “I’m not staying. I need to get up to the hotel to help with breakfast. Just wanted to see if anything was going on here. You’re leaving?”
“Not yet,” Brent said. “Soon, though.”
“Nothing to keep you here, I guess.”
“I thought I’d go out for a dive later on. Clear my head. Join me?”
“If I’m able with work, yeah. Sure thing.” Philip sniffled, clearly awkward. “Well, I’ll be on my way.”
“Breakfast sounds good,” Julianne said. “Mind if I walk with you?”
He shrugged in what she took to be the affirmative.
“See you both later.” Brent resumed his packing. “Thanks for stopping by, Julianne. Join us on the dive if you’d like. We can suit you up.”
She thanked him as Philip spun around and started back up toward the village without a word. She quickly caught up with him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Not a problem. You had a bit of a crush on Lindsey, didn’t you?”
“I suppose I did. Doesn’t matter now, does it?” He didn’t wait for an answer and pushed on up the quiet street. “She wanted people to like her. Nothing wrong with that unless you manipulate them, lie to them so that they’ll like you.”
Julianne had to hurry to keep up with his long strides. “You seem to have good instincts about people. I don’t. I guess that’s why I’m a marine biologist and not a psychologist.”
He glanced at her, slowing his pace. “Do you have a fellow back in Maine?”
“Not anymore. I did for a while. We live in the same small town. You must be able to imagine what that’s like.”
“I can, for sure. Does he know you’re here?”
“Oh, yes.”
Philip smiled at her. “There’s a lot in that oh, yes, isn’t there?”
“I’ve known Andy—that’s his name—my whole life. Actually, he’s Colin Donovan’s brother.”
“Is that right? He looks as if he’s a good one to have around in a pinch.”
“All the Donovans are. There are four brothers.” Julianne grinned at the Irish teenager. “You pity me now, don’t you?”
“I suppose I have to,” he said easily, then drifted into silence as they came to the hotel and went through the gate.
“Philip, is something on your mind? You can tell me. I’m not an FBI agent or a garda detective. If you want to talk—”
“Sometimes it’s best to keep your mouth shut. My mother taught me that. My father didn’t. He’s always saying the wrong thing.”
“I can identify with that.”
He laughed a little but said nothing. He had to get to work, but Julianne was in no hurry. She wanted to savor her time in the hotel’s pretty gardens. Coffee and scones, however, did sound inviting.
She pulled off her hood and unzipped her jacket, warmer given the fast clip up from the waterfront. She decided not to pressure him to talk. Instead she asked casually, “Were you here when this place was broken into ten years ago?”
He seemed almost relieved at her question. “I was in Dublin with my dad. He and my mother had just split up. I was only eight. I thought the theft was exciting.”
“Cary Grant, Robert Wagner.”
“Lindsey said it made her think of Pierce Brosnan in The Thomas Crown Affair.”
“A good Irish actor. You and Lindsey talked about the theft?”
“Only for a minute.” Philip’s voice was barely audible. “It was nothing. We were just chatting and it came up.”
“Did she bring it up or did you—”
“Why does it matter?”
“It’s okay. Sorry.” Julianne smiled. “I don’t mean to interrogate you. Will you go diving with Brent today?”
“I don’t know.”
He was sullen again, preoccupied, but he didn’t break off from her. She said, “Where would you dive? Any idea?”
“He said last night he wants to go out to Shepherd Head. He thought it’d be good for us to do. We’ve done some diving up there. Brent, Eamon, Lindsey and me.” He kicked a small stone. “I guess that’s done. Back to washing dishes and sweeping floors for me.”
“I imagine you’re a big help at the hotel, but I understand you want to go into marine science.”
“It’s just a dream.”
“If you don’t take any action, yes.”
“Now you sound like my mother,” he said, but he managed a strained laugh.
“Yikes,” Julianne said, wincing slightly. “Seriously, Philip, if I can answer any questions, point you in the right direction—just let me know, okay?”
He thanked her and excused himself, ducking quickly into a staff entrance at the back of the hotel. Julianne paused by a stone statue of a woman with a water pitcher. Sunlight sparkled on the sea and glistened on the lush grass and flowerbeds, a beautiful, calming sight.
If only she didn’t have Lindsey’s death on her mind.
And Andy, she thought.
He was always on her mind.
* * *
Colin and Emma were in the dining room, at a table set for three. They already had coffee and a basket of scones, toast and brown bread. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Julianne said as she sat down, ignoring Colin’s scowl.
“I was just about to send out a search party for you,” he said.
“Meaning you were about to come look for me yourself. I didn’t realize I had instructions to stay put.”
“I didn’t think I needed to give them.”
“I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry to worry you.”
He grunted at her. “You’re not sorry.”
She gave him a cheerful smile. “Good morning, Colin.”
He picked up his coffee cup. “Good morning, Julianne.”
She smiled at Emma. “Sorry. We’re done now. Good morning. It’s such a romantic hotel, isn’t it? Are you sure you want me to join you two for breakfast—”
“We’re sure,” Colin said. “We need to talk.”
“Does this have anything to do with Andy’s escapade last night? I told him you’d kill him.”
“Julianne,” Emma said, “did Lindsey tell you how she ended up in Declan’s Cross?”
“Not that I recall, no.”
“Did she talk about her mother at all?”
“Her mother? No. Marine mammals, diving, how pretty it is here. We talked some about my internship, and she told me a bit about her father—not a lot. I got the feeling she’d landed here by accident and fell in love with the area.” Julianne frowned, noticing how serious Emma was. Colin, too. “What’s going on?”
Colin put his cup down. “Did Andy tell you what he and Mike learned last night?”
“No. What?”
Emma answered as she broke open a scone. “Fifteen years ago, David Hargreaves and his wife at the time visited Ardmore and bought two works by Aoife O’Byrne.”
Julianne reached for a scone. “O’Byrne as in—”
“John O’Byrne’s niece and Kitty’s sister,” Emma said. “The two works—a seascape and a silver Celtic cross—were in David Hargreaves’ library until last week. He told his housekeeper he sent them out to be appraised.”
“Well, that’s quite the coincidence. Do you think that’s why Lindsey ended up in Declan’s Cross?”
“Her mother was a painter herself,” Colin said, his eyes—so like Andy’s—on Julianne.
Using the silver butter knife, she put a pat of Irish butter on her bread plate. Hurley’s didn’t have separate butter knives. Suddenly Maine seemed so far away, even with Colin and Emma at the table with her. She looked up from her scone at them. “Have you talked to Lindsey’s father about this?”
Emma shook her head. “Not yet. Colin and I are meeting my grandfather this morning in Ardmore. I want to talk to him first. We’d like for you to join us. He might want to ask you a few questions.”
“No problem. I’d love to meet your grandfather, and I want to see Ardmore. You guys can read all the emails between Lindsey and me if you want. I don’t mind.” Julianne spread the butter on her scone and tried to keep her mind from racing. “When did you talk to Andy?”
“Last night,” Colin said. “Late. He and Mike ran into Matt Yankowski on their way out of the Hargreaves’ place.”
Julianne knew Yankowski from the attack on Andy in late October. “And they’re not under arrest?”
“They’re lucky it was Yank and not me.”
She looked at Emma. “He’s not kidding, you know.”
Emma smiled. “All’s well that ends well. Can you meet us at reception in forty-five minutes?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Please don’t discuss the Aoife O’Byrne works with anyone else,” Emma added as she and Colin got to their feet.
They headed out of the dining room, and Julianne slathered thick rhubarb jam onto her scone. She’d seldom seen Colin in full-blown FBI mode. Never Emma. “Scary, those two,” she muttered under her breath. Then again, they had reason to be in FBI mode.
She ordered yogurt and fruit to go with her scones. The trip to Ardmore would be interesting. Wendell Sharpe was a legend in southern Maine. She did want to meet him. She replayed in her head everything Lindsey had said to her from the moment they’d met at Hurley’s to the moment they’d parted that evening, promising to stay in touch. Julianne was positive not a word had come up about art, the O’Byrnes or the Sharpes. There had been so much to see and talk about, given their mutual interest in marine science. It hadn’t occurred to Julianne to mention Sharpe Fine Art Recovery, even with Emma in Ireland.
She finished her breakfast and headed up to her room. Housekeeping had already slipped in and done their thing. The bed was made, the bathroom was clean, fresh towels were hung. The drapes were open, sunlight streaming in. She looked out at the glistening ocean and suddenly felt lonely. Her thoughts automatically went to Andy. He wasn’t easy, but he was good in a fight. Was she in a fight?
She checked her messages. He’d called and left a voice mail, probably while she was consuming her third scone. “Woke up thinking about you, Jules. I don’t know if that’s welcome news or not, but I’m here if you need me.”
She didn’t know if it was welcome news or not, either.
19
EMMA WALKED AMONG old graves on the uneven ground at the base of the Ardmore round tower, a twelfth-century landmark rising a hundred feet above the picturesque village. The view of the bay from the hillside location was enough reason for a visit, but the early Celtic Christian ruins, the scattered graves and the inescapable sense of history made it a must-see for tourists, at least as far as she was concerned. Today, though, with the cool, crisp air, they had the cemetery and its ancient structures to themselves.
Colin had hung back, reading worn headstones splotched with orange and white lichen as he watched for her grandfather. Julianne had joined Emma for a closer look at the tower. She squinted up at the impressive block-and-mortar structure. “What’s the purpose of a round tower?”
