Murder at the blarney ba.., p.19
Murder at the Blarney Bash, page 19
I turned from the counter and headed for the safety of the kitchen as tears of anger burned behind my eyes. Stupid, I thought, wiping the tears away with my fingertips. Wendy was working at the counter. I cast her an apologetic smile. As if reading my mind, she smiled back, dusted off her hands, and headed to the café. I was alone with my thoughts, and they weren’t happy ones. It was so stupid of me to confront Kennedy again, I thought. But I couldn’t help it. She was my friend, and I was concerned . . . or was I just mourning the death of her relationship with Tuck? Those had been such good days for us in Beacon Harbor, I thought as I plucked two pounds of butter from the walk-in. As I began working on a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough, I realized how much I missed her. Niall lived in London. Ken would go back there with him, where her family lived, where she belonged. We’d call each other from time to time, exchange Christmas cards, and Rory and I would visit once a year, when we could. Growing up was hard.
Kennedy trusted Niall and it was time for me to shut up on the matter. Besides, I needed to focus my energies on the things that I could control, namely discovering the source of the gold, and bringing a murderer to justice.
CHAPTER 33
It had been a long day, one which made me realize how much I needed a break from the world. After making twelve dozen gooey chocolate chip cookies at the bakeshop, and after eating half a dozen myself in an effort to overcome my self-pity, I felt ready once again to face the world. I then closed the Beacon Bakeshop for the day, took Welly for a long walk along the lakeshore, then went to my personal kitchen to cook a private dinner for Rory and me. Rory, I was sure, was ready to escape as well, having taken his uncle and the pot of gold to the police station, after which he had to be back at his cabin so the window company could replace the window the intruder had broken. He was also cleaning up the last of the mess that had been left there, taking care to look for any clue as to who had done the deed. Colleen and Finn were staying at the lighthouse tonight, but each had their own dinner plans.
I couldn’t believe it was Friday already. An entire week had passed since the Leprechaun Parade, and it felt like we were still spinning our wheels regarding the murderers. I looked in the fridge and gave half a thought to making a healthy meal. However, all I really wanted was comfort food. Since I had some thinly sliced corned beef in the fridge, I decided to make Reuben sandwiches for us, with a side of a kosher dill pickle, a bag of thick, crispy kettle-style potato chips, and a plate of freshly made chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Gooey, crunchy, savory, tangy, salty, sweet—all the sensations my tastebuds adored were there, making it the perfect meal to end a stressful week. In my opinion there was no better mood-lifter than a plate of fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies, followed by a gooey grilled sandwich. Maybe the sandwich should come first, but did it really matter?
After feeding Welly, I took out a loaf of marbled rye, ajar of sauerkraut, four slices of Swiss cheese, a bottle of thousand island dressing, and butter for grilling. As I heated up the pan, I spread the dressing on all four slices of bread. That way one side of the sandwich wouldn’t be overloaded with dressing, which was an important part of the sandwich. I then began layering my sandwiches with a slice of cheese, a healthy amount of corned beef, sauerkraut, another slice of cheese, and then topped each with the second slice of bread. Just before I grilled the sandwiches I sent Rory a text, letting him know that dinner would be ready in five minutes.
As expected, Rory was starving and fawned over the simple dinner, grabbing a warm chocolate chip cookie off the tray to tide him over until we climbed the light-tower stairs. Once there, I turned on the heater, put a white tablecloth on the little table between our chairs, then lit some candles. I then set down the plates, put the plate of cookies between us, and poured two glasses of wine.
“Honestly,” Rory began, lifting his wineglass, “this place is far better than any restaurant that I’ve ever been to, and with a view that’s hard to beat, even at night.”
“I agree,” I said, looking out over the dark lake. It was a clear night with patchy, fast-moving clouds. The view from the lightroom was unsurpassed. “However,” I added, after clinking his glass, “when eating here one of us has to make the dinner, then we have to haul it up three flights of narrow, circular stairs. But it’s worth it.” I took a sip of the wine and flashed him a smile.
Over our romantic dinner of Reuben sandwiches and chips, I couldn’t help telling him about my suspicion of Niall and my fight with Kennedy. Rory patiently listened as I babbled on. One of the things I loved about him was that he was a good listener and refrained from adding any of his usual snide comments because he knew, deep down, what Kennedy’s friendship meant to me.
“She’ll come around,” he said. “And Niall stays on our suspect board until we can firmly rule him out. Your suspicions of him may be proven yet, in which case Kennedy will thank you profusely. Although it pains me to say it, I don’t think a little squabble over a man is going to erase your years of friendship. Now, I have something to tell you, and it’s about Finn’s gold.”
Rory had used military precaution when accompanying Finn as he retrieved the pot of gold, then drove him to the police station where he handed his coveted pot over to Sergeant Murdock.
“Where was the gold hidden?” I asked. Rory shook his head in an expression to suggest idiocy. “In my shed . . . in the wheelbarrow, which he covered with straw. As if to suggest that carting around straw is something I do.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” A laugh escaped me as I pictured Finn hiding his gold. “Someone ransacked your house when all they really needed to do was check your shed?” He nodded. “We’re obviously not dealing with the top brass here, which is to our advantage.”
Rory then told me that once the gold was safely in the hands of the police, the press had been called, and Finn was interviewed. Sergeant Murdock had also given a statement, asking anyone with knowledge of this gold to come forward. It was done in an effort to spread the word that Finn no longer had the gold, and that the matter was now in the hands of the police.
“Finn never told them where he found the gold in the first place. The sly old devil told the sergeant that he didn’t want to anger the leprechauns.”
“Murdock must have been furious.” His nod confirmed my suspicions.
“And here’s something else. While heading over to the high school today for a quick meeting with Greg Smith, I saw another rainbow flag, just like the one at the war memorial on the beach.” Rory, as a former Navy SEAL and PADI diver, (Professional Association of Diving Instructors) was getting ready to start teaching scuba diving certification classes at the pool facilities in the high school, having teamed up with the athletic director, Greg Smith. Teaching scuba was his passion, and the classes were offered through his aquatic adventure center that would open in the late spring.
Noting the look in his eyes, I sat up a little higher. “Exactly the same?”
“Exactly.”
“What are you thinking, Campbell?”
“You know what I’m thinking, Bakewell. I have a shovel in my truck. Grab your coat and a flashlight.”
In a matter of moments, and with excitement coursing through my veins, Rory, Welly, and I drove to this new location where another St. Patrick’s Day rainbow flag had been hoisted up a flagpole next to the American flag. As Rory pulled into the parking lot of the baseball fields near the elementary school, I cast him a puzzled look.
“I don’t see it.”
“It’s right by the concession stand, in the middle of these fields. Didn’t you see it from the road? There’s a spotlight on it.”
“Guess I missed it. Although I must admit that this is an odd place to hide a pot of gold.”
He grinned and slung the shovel over his shoulder with the air of a roguish gravedigger. “So was the memorial at the public beach. It’s worth a look.” Welly agreed, although his palpable excitement for our nocturnal dealings had more to do with the fact that he had landed in a place with a world of new scents to explore.
With flashlights on, we made our way to the refreshment stand. Once there I was surprised to find another large memorial stone placed at the foot of the flagpoles, this one honoring the man who had bequeathed the land the baseball fields had been built on. Feeling a bit like a gravedigger myself, I held the flashlight as Rory set about removing the heavy stone. The moment the stone had been shifted, I inhaled.
“I don’t believe it,” I uttered as Rory pulled out another heavy pot covered with a dirty cloth. The moment he lifted the cloth, the beam from my flashlight illuminated the gold coins. Rory quickly covered it again.
“What are the odds?” he asked.
“A billion to one,” I answered. “We’re definitely not dealing with a normal criminal.” Rory agreed. I then added, “Remember Finn saying that he saw the leprechaun he was following adding coins to the pot—as if he was squirreling the money away, literally?”
“I do,” Rory said. He was in the process of returning the memorial stone. This new pot of gold was coming with us. “Which means that whoever is behind this has been hiding these coins for some time. I wonder how many more pots are hidden in this town?” He smoothed the dirt around the stone, gave Welly, who believed he was helping him, a pat on the head, and stood. “Crazy as this sounds, Linds, I can’t fault Uncle Finn for believing that this is the work of a leprechaun.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and asked, “According to the fables, leprechauns do this sort of thing.”
I shook my head, then reached beneath the dirty cloth and picked up one of the coins from the pot. I inspected it closely under the beam of my flashlight. “This is a one-ounce gold American Buffalo coin,” I said, perplexed. I had never taken a close look at the gold in Finn’s pot. I then reached for another coin, this time pulling one from deeper in the pot. “This is a one-ounce gold South African Krugerrand. Each one of these coins, Rory, is valued at over two-thousand dollars today. Of course, the value of gold fluctuates with the market.”
“Investment coins?” he asked, looking intrigued.
“Or, as my dad alluded to, an untraceable way to park money. What we’re dealing with here is a very wily, risk-taking, irreverent, money-laundering leprechaun, who’s now dead. I say irreverent, because whoever he was working for, or stole this from, obviously didn’t know where he’d hidden their money. Since the dates on these two coins are within the past ten years, it’s hard to say exactly how long this has been hidden here. Also, due to the very public nature of his hidey-holes, it kind of has the feeling as if Mr. Leprechaun was mocking whoever he was working with. Finn really is quite lucky, you know. Thanks to his ardent belief in leprechauns and his passion for green beer on St. Patrick’s Day, he found this gold, which could have sat beneath the ground for another hundred or so years.”
Rory ruminated over that a moment. “The poor man died thinking he was taking his secret to the grave with him. Someone must have double-crossed him.”
I agreed. “Thanks to Uncle Finn and your sharp eyes, we now have the key to his quirky map. Mr. Leprechaun was hiding his gold under the St. Patrick’s Day flags, but why?”
“I have no idea. But we have another pot of gold,” he offered, cradling this new pot in his arms as we walked back to the truck. I was carrying the shovel this time. Once in the truck, Rory turned to me. “Babe, we need to take this gold to the police station tomorrow morning, but let’s not tell Murdock where we found it.”
“She’ll be flaming mad, Rory.” That was likely an understatement. I wondered if she’d have the power to throw us in jail for that.
“Let her be mad,” he said, turning onto the road. “We’ve unlocked the key to finding the gold, but we don’t know how many flags are still out there, or who put them up. Remember, two men died because of this gold. One man was hiding it, and the other, Fred Landry, was attacked by him, then finished off by another. Let Murdock concentrate on the murders. We need to figure out what Fred Landry’s role in this was, and who put up those flags.”
CHAPTER 34
While Rory took this new pot of gold to the police station, one we hadn’t told anyone else about, my job was to figure out who was responsible for hanging the decorative flags around town, particularly the St. Patrick’s Day flags under which two pots of gold had been buried. Was there a connection between the flag-hoister and the gold hoarder? I didn’t know, but it needed investigating. Lucky for me, the one person who really had her finger on the pulse of Beacon Harbor came to visit the bakeshop nearly every day. If anyone knew who was responsible for hanging decorative flags around town, it would be Betty Vanhoosen. And, lucky for me, the woman was like clockwork. The moment I saw her walking up the sidewalk, I asked Tom to get her latte ready.
“Good morning, Betty,” I welcomed her the moment she came through the door. “Are you having the usual?” With Tom working on her latte, I was ready to reach for a large cinnamon roll when she stopped me.
“I’ll have a latte,” she confirmed, “but I’m going to try the tomato, basil, and caramelized onion quiche this morning. My slacks are getting a little tight and I think the change might be good. Best make that two. I’m going to take one to Bob. He went to his office early today.”
As Tom handed Betty her latte, he asked, “Has the doc discovered the identity of the leprechaun yet?” Everyone in town was anxious to learn the truth. Every morning since the murder there’d been a sensational headline in the local paper. The front page of this morning’s paper was all about Finn O’Connor, leprechaun hunter, and his pot of gold, which was now safely in the custody of the police. Due to this flurry of gold fever, Rory had been determined to keep this new pot of gold a secret.
Betty thanked Tom, picked up her latte, and took a sip before answering. “He’s getting close. He’s expecting to get the results of the DNA test back today. Hopefully, that will confirm his suspicion.”
“Which is?” Alaina asked, handing Betty a bakery box that contained the two quiches she’d ordered.
“Whether or not he really was a leprechaun, dear. A grizzled little man dressed in green, with no identity, and carrying a shillelagh? To use Bob’s own words, This has been one for the books!” Betty smiled at Alaina before casting her a cheeky wink. “Anyhow, Bob asked me to invite you and Rory to join us for dinner tonight at the Moose. Although I have great faith in Stacy Murdock, I know that you two seem to have more luck regarding murderers around here.”
Betty’s invitation was a welcome one. Doc Riggles was required to report his postmortem findings to the authorities, but not to us. However, as Betty had hinted at, he would be happy to discuss his work over dinner. I jumped at the offer and thanked her. She was about to leave before I remembered the flags.
“By the way, Betty, do you, by any chance, know who’s in charge of hanging those cute St. Patrick’s Day flags around town?”
Betty grinned. “Aren’t they darling? That would be Molly Butterfield. After all, she is the Beacon Harbor Welcoming Committee and the person in charge of the beautification committee.”
* * *
Molly Butterfield. I honestly didn’t know that she oversaw the beautification committee, but that made sense. Molly was a sweetheart. She was a gifted florist and had an eye for making things look pretty, beautiful even. Yet I couldn’t quite picture her as the person behind the brutal murders. However, that wasn’t saying much. I knew from personal experience that some of the nicest people harbored some of the darkest secrets. I didn’t know much about Molly Butterfield other than she had taken a keen interest in Uncle Finn—right from the moment she’d met him. Molly would know about Finn’s obsession with leprechauns, as most of us did. Molly had a connection to the decorative flags, but what was her connection to the gold, or the man dressed as a leprechaun? I honestly had no idea. Maybe they were working together? If Molly hung those rainbow flags, and if Mr. Leprechaun was using them as a marker to hide their possibly ill-gotten gold, then why didn’t she just dig up the gold herself? And why murder the leprechaun? Also, what was her connection to Fred Landry? Nothing made sense. Not much in this strange case did. There was only one way to figure that out. I needed to talk with her.
The moment Betty had left the bakeshop, I sent Rory a text. He was still at the police station, protecting the secret of where we had found this new pot of gold. We believed that the gold and the St. Patrick’s Day flags were connected and wanted more time to investigate this theory. Rory felt that keeping it a secret was important, no matter how angry Murdock became. He would come to the Beacon as soon as he could.
“Sorry, babe,” Rory apologized, walking in just before noon. I’d been anxious to talk with Molly all morning. I stepped around the bakery counter and met him at the coffee bar for a discreet welcoming kiss. “We’re now officially on the sergeant’s list of disobedient civilians. She wants me to tell you to cease and desist—to stop sticking our noses in where they don’t belong. The professionals will handle it from here.”
“She doesn’t really believe we’re going to stop, does she? I mean, we found a pot of gold.”
“She’s not happy about that either. Although I wouldn’t tell her where we found it, I did explain that we were following a hunch. By the way, Tuck is going to swing by after work and join us for dinner with Betty and Bob. Did you know he and Colleen had a date last night?”
