A turn for the bad, p.19
A Turn for the Bad, page 19
“I can see his point,” Maura said. “Have you been avoiding him?”
“Answering his mobile, maybe. For pity’s sake, we had dinner only last night.”
“When you did in fact dump your kind of important news on him, right? So he’s had a little time to think about it.”
“Not as long as I have,” Gillian muttered darkly. “Not enough to be rational about it, anyway.”
Maura thought for a moment. “Will it make a difference about the boat?”
“I don’t know. I do have to explain what we’re doing, and then most likely he’s going to want to be part of it. Like I said, he’s very fond of that boat. Better still if he can act the hero.”
Maura and Gillian realized at the same time that Rose was watching them with great interest. “What?” Gillian snapped at her.
Rose held up her hands and backed away. “Nothin’, nothin’. I’d say everyone’s actin’ a bit odd these days, yerself included.”
“I’m sorry, Rose,” Gillian said, contrite. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m old enough to know what’s what, Gillian. It’s Harry’s, isn’t it?”
Gillian dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, hell. Does everybody in this bloody village know?”
“Seems like it,” Maura said. “Here’s the man now.” Harry had just walked into the pub.
He spied Gillian at the bar and came over quickly. He nodded curtly at Maura and Rose, then said, “Gillian, we have to talk.”
Gillian faced him squarely. “Yes, Harry, we do. The back room?” She glanced at Maura, who nodded.
When Gillian and Harry had vanished into the back, closing the door behind them, Rose turned to Maura. “That’s not all that’s odd, now, is it?”
“Rose, you are too smart for your own good. No, there’s some other stuff, but I’m trying to keep it quiet.”
Rose laughed briefly. “Maura, there’s no more than a coupla hundred people in the whole of the village, and not many more from the townlands, and most of them are related to each other. There’s no such thing as keepin’ anythin’ quiet here—everyone talks.”
Maura sighed. “I keep forgetting that. But in this case it’s kind of scary. I’m trying to keep this quiet because I don’t want to put anyone in danger. And I don’t want the wrong people to hear about it either.”
“And you don’t want me da to know?” Rose said quietly.
Maura shook her head. “Oh, Rose . . .”
“It’s all right—I know me da. He can’t keep his mouth shut if he thinks bein’ in the know will do himself some good.”
“He’s your father, Rose, and I don’t want to put anything between you two, but I think you’ve hit the nail on the head about him. I can’t include him right now—it’s too risky. Look, this should all be wrapped up by tomorrow sometime, and then everyone can hear the whole story.” Unless it was a total disaster. Of course, in that case they’d all hear about it on the telly. “If he gets curious about some of the odd things going on here tonight, try to distract him, okay? Or maybe I’ll tell Billy to keep him talking.”
“So who’d be in it, then? Yerself?”
“No, not me. Mick, Harry—if Gillian doesn’t bite his head off first—and Gerard from the distillery. Depends on how big this boat of Harry’s is, and if it’s running, and if he’ll want to use it.”
From where they sat at the bar, Maura and Rose could hear the sound of raised voices, even through the thick door of the back room. They exchanged a look. “Think I should go in there?” Maura asked.
Rose shook her head quickly. “This is fer the two of them to work out between themselves. What they’re decidin’ will go on long past tomorrow.”
“So it will,” Maura agreed. She was relieved when a couple of men came in and asked for drinks, then stood in front of the bar waiting while the drinks settled, making small talk that had nothing to do with boats or drugs or any other secrets, as far as Maura could tell. They carefully ignored the argument going on in the room behind. If the words weren’t audible, the tone was clear.
Luckily the argument did not go on much longer. The sound of angry voices died down, and then Harry opened the door, stopping short of slamming it back against the wall, and stalked through the pub and out the front door without a backward glance or a word to anyone. When he was gone, Gillian followed more slowly and came over to the bar where Maura was sitting, then dropped onto a stool. The men in the bar made an effort to pretend that they didn’t see her and hadn’t heard a thing.
Gillian sat. “Could you do me a cup of tea, Rose?” When Rose nodded and turned to fill a teapot, Gillian faced Maura. “He’ll let us use the boat. He’s gone to check out what state it’s in and make sure there’s fuel in it.”
“And?” Maura said.
“And what?”
Maybe this wasn’t the best time to ask, but when was there a good time? “He’s not happy? About the rest of it, I mean?”
Gillian shook her head. “He’s angry. Insulted, I suppose—he said I thought he wasn’t man enough to deal with it. I told him his manhood wasn’t in question, just his maturity. It did not go well. But I explained the other thing, and he agreed to the idea. He’ll be back once he’s looked things over with the boat, talked to Tom O’Brien.” Rose slid a mug of tea toward her, and Gillian added liberal amounts of sugar and milk before taking a long swallow.
“Have you figured out what you want yet?” Maura asked.
Gillian shook her head. “I suppose I was waiting to see how Harry took the news. I don’t know what kind of reaction I expected, or wanted, but I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s had a day to get used to the idea. I’m not asking anything from him, although I’m not sure he believes that. Maybe that’s what’s got him in a panic—he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle his own life and suddenly he has others to consider.” She took another sip of tea. “And then there’s this whole other thing in the midst of it all.”
“Well, that part wasn’t planned, and no one could have expected it.” Maura looked over the crowd: nobody was watching them, but she could swear that several sets of ears twitched. Couldn’t be helped. Outside the rain had settled down to an occasional spatter, although the wind was still high, but it was already getting dark. Good or bad? Her little band wouldn’t be able to see much in the dark, but on the plus side, the guys on the big boat wouldn’t see them either.
Mick had been talking to a couple of the men, who appeared to know him, and then he came over and joined them at the bar. “Well?” he said, looking at Gillian.
“Yes to the boat,” Gillian said. “He’s looking it over now. And yes to the other part as well. I don’t think he wants to let the boat out of his sight. I’m guessing he fancies himself a bold hero.”
“Ah,” said Mick, and went to collect some empty glasses.
“I will be very glad when we can stop talking like this,” Maura said. “Are you Thing One or Thing Two? Because your thing came before the other one.”
“Fine, whatever. When Harry gets back from this mad adventure, assuming he does, we’ll have to make a real plan, won’t we?”
“At some point you’ll have to. I hate it that the guys’re going to have all the fun while we just sit and chew our nails. Not that there’s much choice.”
“You started all this, did you not?”
“What part did I start?” Maura asked, vaguely offended.
“You’re the one with the friend at the gardaí, aren’t you? Who told you something was going on. And then you talked to Billy, who got the word out that it wasn’t so secret anymore, and then Conor came and talked to you, and here we are.”
“I hope Sean’s still a friend when all this is over,” Maura said. “I don’t want him to think I betrayed his confidence. Look, Gillian, I never meant to start anything. Sean just wanted me to watch what was going on and maybe keep some other people from interfering. To keep people safe.”
“And what would he call what you’re doing?” Gillian demanded. “I don’t think he’d be happy about it, when all this comes out. Which no doubt it will.”
“Gillian, what is it you want me to do?”
Gillian shook her head sadly. “I don’t know, Maura, and that about sums it up.”
More and more men, and the occasional woman, drifted in, which kept Maura’s staff busy with serving them. Maura was happy to chat with them as well, because it kept her mind off the other things. Of course, being chatty was kind of out of character for her, so her patrons might think that was strange, but nothing felt normal to her, and she might as well drum up some business and sell a few extra pints while waiting for the next step, whatever that might be.
Harry didn’t return until after six. Maura found it almost funny when the majority of the men in the bar turned to look at him and then look at each other knowingly before returning to their drinks. What did they know—or guess? Harry still looked angry, which was not good. He nodded toward the back room, and then she, Mick, and Gillian headed in that direction after Maura had whispered in Rose’s ear to keep an eye on the bar. Gerard rose from the seat in the corner where he had been talking with someone and followed.
Maura looked at Brendan, still leaning against the bar. “You coming?”
“I’ll be of more use to you out here. I’m a bit past the days of rowing and climbing up ladders. But I’ll stay for now. Maybe spin a tale or two for Jimmy Sweeney, eh?”
Jimmy hadn’t yet noticed their group disappearance, but he would soon enough. “Okay. You know where to find us.”
She stalked over to the back room, then closed the door behind her. “Okay, gang, what’s the plan?”
Chapter 23
“The boat’s fit to go,” Harry said tersely, not looking at Gillian. “Tom O’Brien has earned his keep and more.”
“Tell us about it, Harry,” Maura suggested. “I don’t know much about boats.”
“It’s a 1960 Chris-Craft Continental, the twenty-two-foot model, belonged to my father, who bought it when he was feeling flush. Good speed, lousy for fishing, but he was more into the flash of it. Shallow draft, so it can handle the shallow water. Oh, and it holds four—five if they’re not too large or you’re in a hurry.”
“You know Gerard, Harry?” Maura asked.
“Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Harry stuck out his hand, and he and Gerard shook.
“I’m one of the owners of the distillery over to Union Hall,” Gerard told him, “but before that I crewed on me father’s fishin’ boat. So I know the local waters.”
“He’s the one who identified the yacht, in Glandore,” Maura told Harry.
“Good job. I can’t say I’ve spent much time around here the last couple of years, certainly not on the water, so I don’t know what’s going on in the harbor now.”
“Some fancy boats there these days. There’s money around,” Gerard said.
“So a good place to hide. How big a crew?” Harry was addressing his questions to Gerard, ignoring the rest of them, Gillian in particular.
“One man could run it, but I’m pretty sure there’s two there as can handle the boat. A couple more to do the shiftin’ of the load, in a little boat—you can see it hangin’ on the yacht. None of me mates mentioned seeing more on board.”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place for Maura. “Maybe there’s only one other crew member. Remember that man who washed ashore? Sean Murphy said he hadn’t been identified, but they knew he wasn’t local. He could have been one of the crewmen. Nobody’s come forward to claim him.”
“So why’s he dead?” Harry demanded.
“The ‘how’ was a blow to the head with a rock or something rough. Maybe there was a fight, but there are plenty of ways that could have happened. Maybe he slipped on a wet deck, or maybe somebody wanted a bigger cut of the pie and took him out. How should I know? But how many foreigners end up dead on the beach in West Cork?”
“We should be prepared for four men on the boat, regardless,” Mick said, speaking for the first time. “We wait for the two in the small boat to head off with their delivery, and then we board. There’d be two left behind.”
“And we just waltz up to the owner or skipper or whoever the hell he is and say, Excuse me, sir, but we’re thinking you might have a friend of ours stashed on your boat and would you mind letting us look around?” Harry’s tone was sarcastic.
“That’s your job, Harry,” Gillian cut in, her tone equally snide. “You show up with your posh boat and your public school accent, and I’m sure you’ll think of something to say. All you need to do is get close enough to board.”
“And if the man pulls a gun on me?” Harry retorted. “And why should he not? He’s handling a shipment worth millions, and he’s going to protect that, isn’t he? He’d shoot me without thinking, if he smells something funny.”
“Children, stop squabbling,” Maura demanded. “You both have good points. The idea is to get close without being noticed. We’re assuming it’s an ordinary private yacht, not some boat rigged up with sensors all over the place, which would see you coming. Say the guy sees the boat, which is a nice one, which should let you get close enough to talk to him. Make up any story you like: you ran out of gas, your thingamajiggy died, you’re taking on water—it doesn’t matter. Just distract him long enough to get on the boat. Make sense?”
“We’re not armed, you know,” Mick pointed out. “What if there is a gun?”
“You take it away from him,” Maura said, quailing inwardly. Mick raised one eyebrow at her. “That’s why Harry’s part is important—he’s got to make it look like you guys aren’t a threat to anyone. You were out for a dawn spin on the water and your boat stopped, period. Don’t ask me why you won’t be surprised to see someone on deck at that ridiculous hour.”
“We’re drunk, that’s why,” Harry said suddenly. It looked to Maura like he had finally gotten into the spirit of the plan. “I’m a spoiled rich kid with a fancy boat, and we’ve been drinking since the pubs closed. That way our silly behavior makes sense.”
“Good idea, Harry,” Maura told him.
“And what is it we’re doin’ once we get on the bloody boat?” Gerard asked. Maura was surprised nobody had mentioned that sooner.
“Find John Tully.”
“Fergive me fer sayin’ so, Maura, but that’s easier said than done. We’ve only a short time before the other boat comes back.”
A good point. “Look, Gerard, I don’t know boats. You tell me: how many places could they put a man on a boat that size?”
“A few,” Gerard muttered. If Harry was warming to the plan, Gerard seemed to be cooling.
“All right, then—where would you stash somebody?” Maura demanded.
Gerard appeared to think about it for a moment. “The engine room would be my choice. It’s noisy when the motor’s runnin’, so no one could hear him yellin’. Even in port there’s often a generator runnin’ to keep the lights on and the like. It’s as far down as you can get in the boat, so no one would stumble over him when they shouldn’t.”
“And how do you get to the engine room once you’re on the boat?” Maura pressed him.
“I can find it. You gormless lads won’t need help holdin’ down the captain, will yeh, now?”
“We’ll manage,” Mick told him. “Then you bring John up, get him onto the boat, and we all hightail it fer shore?”
“In a nutshell,” Maura said.
“And where would we be goin’ when we get there?”
That stopped Maura in her tracks. She’s been so obsessed with finding and retrieving John Tully that she hadn’t thought about what came next. He was officially, in the eyes of all Ireland, a missing person: they couldn’t just drop him off at home and say, Sorry, it’s been a mistake. Take him to the gardaí? The coast guard? Maura had a suspicion that if they were in the middle of tracking a major drug deal, they wouldn’t want to be distracted by the resurrected Mr. Tully. Certainly his wife and children deserved to know that he was safe, but how could they let that happen if they didn’t know whether the bigger deal had been wrapped up?
Then something else occurred to her. “What’s Conor Tully’s role?” Maura asked no one in particular.
“You mean, in this rescue? Or in the drug transfer?”
“Either. Both.”
Mick answered first. “I’m guessing he’d be the one who recruited the driver or drivers to take the stuff wherever it’s supposed to go. Unlikely he’d be doin’ the drivin’ himself, especially now, when he’d be missed. So he’d make the handoff on the beach and be done with it.”
“Then how about this,” Maura began. “Once his part is over and he knows we’ve got John, he heads for John’s house, picks up Nuala and the kids, and brings them here to Sullivan’s? And you bring John back here as well?”
“Why not bring everyone to the manor house?” Harry protested.
Maura’s first reaction was that doing that didn’t set the right note—and made Harry’s role look more important. On the other hand, it would be less obvious than having everyone meet at Sullivan’s. But the pub wouldn’t be open so early in the day, and the traffic to Mass wouldn’t begin until later. “I vote for here. It’s a public place. Anybody object?” No one did.
“Shouldn’t we be tellin’ the gardaí somethin’?” Gerard said.
“Yes, but not until they’ve settled the drug deal thing.”
“What happens to Conor, then?” Mick asked.
“He’ll have to explain. A lot. But he had his reasons for doing what he did, right? Won’t the gardaí go easy on him?” Maura asked the group. She had no idea how Irish laws worked.
