An Early Wake Read online

  Turned out, he was. “Maura, hello. How’re you feeling this morning?” he said cheerily when he answered.

  “You’re in early, after last night. Anyway, I was feeling pretty good until I got to Sullivan’s. I have a problem.”

  “Oh, no. And what would that be? Somebody rifled the cash drawer? Vandalism?”

  “Uh, neither of those. There’s a dead man in the back room.”

  “Oh.” Sean was silent for a moment, and Maura could almost hear him shifting gears, from friend to serious official. “Do you know the deceased?”

  “Only his first name—Aidan. He was one of the musicians, a friend of Niall’s. He came with a fiddle case.” Niall would know his name. But she had no idea where to find Niall.

  “Yer sure he’s dead?”

  “I haven’t touched him, but I’m pretty damn sure.”

  “I’ll be over in ten minutes. Don’t touch anything. Don’t let anyone else in. Are you all right?”

  Nice of him to worry about her. “I’ll manage. I’ll wait for you in the front, Sean.”

  Maura sat on a stool in front of the bar, watching the street, where little was happening. Restless, she stood up again and went around behind the bar to make some more coffee. No doubt some people would think a stiff drink would be the right strategy for dealing with an unexpected body, but she didn’t work that way. She hoped the poor man had died of natural causes. She had no reason to think anything else, did she? On the other hand, maybe this was the universe reminding her that her luck just didn’t work that way. She’d had a great night last night, but now she had to pay the price? When the coffee was ready she went back to sit on the stool and sipped slowly, waiting for Sean.

  What message was the universe trying to send her? It was certainly mixed. On the one hand, she’d been gifted with some extraordinary blessings over the past few months, as she reminded herself: a house, a car, even a business had all pretty much fallen into her lap. A friendship with Bridget, who had known her grandmother. On the other hand, she seemed to be paying for it with a lot of unwanted trouble, even though she wasn’t responsible for any of it. Still, how much would the locals take before they started shunning her as bad luck?

  Sean pulled up within the promised ten minutes and parked directly in front of Sullivan’s. Maura went to open the door for him and let him step past her inside before locking it again.

  “How are yeh, Maura?” he asked anxiously, and for a moment Maura considered bursting into tears and throwing herself into his arms. Weren’t police supposed to be prepared for that?

  She stifled the urge. It would only embarrass both of them, and besides, she almost never cried. “I’m okay. Better than that guy Aidan, anyway.” She nodded toward the back.

  “Before I take a look . . . what time did yeh lock up last night?”

  “I left about one, I think. Mick was still here, but all the musicians in back had left before that, as far as we could tell. Mick said he’d close up—you can confirm that with him. The front door was locked when I arrived this morning. I haven’t checked the back doors, but I’m not even sure they lock, and just about anybody could have come and gone that way.”

  “Right so. You said you recognized the, uh, deceased?”

  “Aidan Crowley.” Now that the initial shock had worn off, Maura was proud that she had managed to remember his full name. “I talked to him a couple of times, mostly stuff like, ‘Would you like some tea?’ But you saw how it was last night.”

  He nodded. “And you haven’t disturbed anything?”

  “I picked up a couple of glasses from the back, before I noticed the guy. That’s it.”

  “Leave them aside for now. I’d best go take a look at the man. You don’t need to come with me.”

  “I’m coming,” Maura said tersely, and she followed Sean into the back room.

  “Were the lights on when you came in?” he said.

  “No, I turned them on. This room is pretty dark, and I wanted to see what had to be done.”

  “When did you first see the deceased?”

  “I was over there by the stage”—she pointed—“and when I turned around I noticed him, kind of tucked in the corner there. I went to see if he was just sleeping it off, but when I got closer it was pretty clear he wasn’t.”

  Sean walked carefully toward where the man was slumped against the back wall. He spent a couple of minutes examining him closely, without touching him, before saying, “I’ll wait for the rest of the team before disturbing him. Most likely he’ll have some identification on him, with his address and all, but I’ll let them look for it.”

  “He said he lived in Cork. He is dead, right? Not just passed out, or in a coma?”

  “Yes, Maura, he is dead. I’m sorry. Excuse me.” Sean turned away to call the station, then explained the circumstances. He ended with, “I’ll stay here with the owner until you arrive.” He signed off and turned to Maura. “The sergeant will be over shortly, and he’ll alert the medical folk.”

  “I know. I’ve been through this before. Should we wait out front? Can I get you some coffee?”

  Sean wavered between protocol and an obvious desire for coffee. In the end he said, “I’d be glad of a cup, thanks.”

  “Coming up.”

  Maura was happy to have something to do, some way to keep her hands busy. She didn’t want to think beyond the next step. “Hey, should I try to call Mick and Jimmy? I’m not sure when they’ll be coming in.” She handed Sean a mug of coffee.

  “We’ll be needing to talk to them, Mick in particular, since he was the last one here, right?”

  Maura nodded. “Yes—Jimmy left before me.”

  Sean went on, “I don’t want anyone else coming into the building just yet, not until the sergeant’s been over the scene.” He sipped his hot coffee, his brow furrowed.

  “What?” Maura demanded.

  “I was just thinkin’ . . . How many people would you guess were here last night?”

  “We weren’t counting. A couple of hundred, easy, although there was a lot of coming and going, so they weren’t all here at the same time.”

  “Had they all left before you went home?”

  “Yes, like I said. The musicians too. I wouldn’t walk out with people still in the pub. I’m sure the place was empty, except for Mick and me. Mick was going to clean up in back before he left.”

  “And he would have noticed a dead man?”

  Maura looked more closely at Sean, whose expression was serious. “Are you joking? Of course he would have.”

  “Or he could have let him in after you’d gone.”

  “I guess. Or the guy could have snuck in through the other doors back there. There are two of them—they open onto the balcony from outside. Maybe he was looking to rob the place after our big night. You’d know better than I would if there’s ever been a problem with theft here at Sullivan’s, but I’d guess there was never enough money on hand before to make it worth the effort, until last night.”

  Maura realized she’d started to become more trusting since she’d left Boston. From what she’d seen, here in Leap nobody locked much of anything. The church was open to all comers any time of day, whether or not there was a priest on-site. More than once she’d heard the clerks at the few shops in town say, “Just leave the money on the counter.” She herself locked the front door of Sullivan’s out of habit, and because she didn’t want anybody helping themselves to her liquor—although she’d rather they walk through a door than smash a window to get at it. The night before had been a special case: she had no real idea how much money they’d taken in, but it was mostly cash, and it was a lot more than usual. That was why she’d wanted to get it out of the pub and let Mick take it home. Had she let herself be lulled into a false sense of security? Well, she’d know for sure if Mick failed to show up for work this morning, but she really didn’t think he’d run out on her. And it seemed very unlikely to her that Aidan had come back to the pub to rob it and just happened to
die in his sleep.

  “Was there any money missing?” Sean asked.

  Maura shook her head. “No. I thought it would be stupid to leave it here, so I gave it to Mick to take home. I haven’t even looked in the cash drawer yet, but there were only some coins in there.”

  Sean shrugged. “Do you have a number for Mick?”

  “Just his mobile—that’s how I usually reach him.”

  “And an address?”

  Maura stared blankly at him. “Uh, no. I’ve never needed it. I pay him in cash, and I’ve never had to mail anything to him. I’m sure you can find it better than I can.”

  “So you don’t know where he lives?”

  “No, I don’t. And I don’t know where Jimmy and Rose live either, although it must be within walking distance, because Rose doesn’t have a car. I think Jimmy does.” Of course “walking distance” around here could be miles, easily. Not much help.

  “Billy Sheahan—he lives down at the end, does he not?”

  “Yes, he does, and has for years. But if you’re wondering if he heard anything, I doubt it. You know how thick these walls are. Maybe if somebody stopped in front of Billy’s door and had a big argument he’d notice, but not otherwise. He left long before I did last night, anyway.” Maura couldn’t even remember if she’d seen him in the back room while the music was playing or if he’d enjoyed the music from his seat in the front all night.

  “Did yeh see anyone on the street when you left?”

  “Not a soul. No other lights on either, except the streetlights.”

  Sean paused, then finally said, “I can’t think of any more questions. I guess we’ll just wait for the others.”

  Maura set down her mug carefully before looking at Sean. “I hate to ask, but do you think the guy was killed?”

  “I couldn’t say, Maura. Could be he had some sort of medical condition. There’s no obvious cause, but I’m not the one to decide. We’ll be treating it as a suspicious death until we know more.”

  “Really? Because I thought that as the first officer to arrive, if you decided there was no crime involved, you’d just jump to the next step and call for the ME to pick up, uh, Aidan.” It seemed unkind to call the man a “body” when he’d been breathing only hours before.

  “If he’d died in his bed you’d be right,” Sean answered. “But he’s a stranger, and he’s been found somewhere he shouldn’t be, so far as I know. I’m just being careful. Don’t be alarmed.”

  “Yet,” Maura muttered glumly. Sean didn’t respond.

  Chapter 13

  The next representative of the Skibbereen gardaí—Sean’s sergeant—arrived a few minutes later. Mick arrived at the same time as the second garda and looked appropriately startled to see a police presence in front of the pub. Maura watched through the window as he gestured and pointed and seemed to argue with the uniformed officer; he looked inside and spotted her, then cocked his head, as if asking, “What the hell?”

  “Can Mick come in?” Maura asked Sean.

  “Of course. I want a word with him.” Sean unlocked the door to let Mick and the sergeant in, then locked the door behind them once again. Up close Maura recognized the sergeant, although she couldn’t recall having had a conversation with him.

  “It’s Maura Donovan, isn’t it?” the sergeant asked. “I’m Sergeant Tony Regan—I recall we’ve met before.”

  “Right. Sorry to call you out on a Sunday.”

  Sean and Sergeant Regan stepped away and conferred briefly, while Mick looked a question at Maura and she hastily whispered, “Tell you in a minute.” When the gardaí returned, the sergeant said, “I’d like to examine the scene with Murphy first, if you don’t mind. Wait here.” They disappeared into the back room.

  Mick went around the bar and started a cup of coffee for himself. “You all right, Maura?” he asked, watching the coffee drip from the machine. “The garda said you found a dead man in the back. Did you recognize the poor sod?”

  “I did, actually.” Suddenly Maura remembered the hours Mick had spent in conversation with Aidan and the others on Friday. She added, a little more gently, “It’s that fiddler, Aidan Crowley. Niall’s friend.” Maura watched Mick’s face change.

  “Aidan Crowley? Bugger.”

  “Who was he?” Maura asked. “I mean, he wasn’t as famous as Niall, right?” Maybe someone had told her before, but it had flown right out of her head.

  “Nah, Aidan Crowley used to be a sideman for some of the bands, but he never seemed to connect with the right one at the right time.”

  “From what little I saw of him, he wasn’t young.”

  “Are yeh askin’ if he was old enough for a heart attack? Or maybe if he just wore out after all those years of drugs and rock and roll?”

  “Well, I guess that’s what I want to know. Won’t the gardaí want to?”

  “Could be.”

  “Mick, you didn’t happen to offer the guy a place to crash for the night, did you?”

  He turned to her. “The thought crossed my mind, but no one asked. I can’t tell you where he or any of the others scattered to.”

  Maura sighed. “I told Sean that you locked up after I went home. Hadn’t everybody cleared out by the end? Did you check the back room after I left?”

  “Of course I did,” Mick said. “Checked the doors too—I know we haven’t always bothered, but some of the boys left their heavy stuff here for the night, and I didn’t want that disappearing. All the doors were locked. I turned off everything that would turn off, and then I left by the front.”

  “You check the bathrooms too?”

  “I did. Maura, I swear there was no one in the building when I left, unless yeh count Old Billy down in his flat at the other end of the building.”

  “So how did this guy get in?”

  “I can’t tell yeh. Although we both know it wouldn’t be hard to get into this place, if yeh really wanted to.”

  Maura made a mental note to fix that, but this wasn’t the time. “So if no one was here when you left, Aidan must’ve come back after you’d locked up. Why do you think he’d have done that?” Had he come back here for one last hurrah with the boys? She hoped fervently that the postmortem would show that his heart had given out or something in his brain had given way—although he looked no more than sixty, which was young for either.

  Mick startled her when he said, “Yer not thinking he came in to rob the place, are yeh?”

  “Could be,” Maura said, “but if it was the money he was after, the coins are still here.”

  “Maybe he was just looking for a place to sleep.”

  “I thought that for about three seconds. Even if he had broken in to rob us, he never left the building, right? Maybe the strain of breaking in was too much for him and he had to lie down and rest.” Maura realized she was being snide, and that wouldn’t go over well with the gardaí. She’d have to watch her tongue. “Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

  “No, it does not.”

  Sergeant Regan and Sean reappeared. “We’ve found a wallet,” the sergeant said. “Like you said, the man’s name was—”

  “Aidan Crowley.” Mick finished his sentence. “He first came by on the Friday, from Cork city, he said, and met up with Niall Cronin here. He was part of the music last night. Do you know yet how he died?”

  Sergeant Regan shook his head. “Inconclusive,” he said, apparently relishing the word. “We’ll need a postmortem, to be sure. Nolan, is it?” he went on. Mick nodded. “Miss Donovan says you locked up last night. Was the man in the building when you left?”

  “He was not,” Mick said firmly.

  “Might you have been the worse for drink? It sounds as though it was a long night.”

  “I’d had a glass or two, but I was managing the equipment for the show so I needed a clear head. There was no one left in the building when I locked up, and I’ll swear an oath on it.”

  “And you have no knowledge of how this man might have come to be lyin’ dea
d in the back room?”

  Maura watched the exchange and was beginning to wonder if there was some hostility between Mick and the sergeant. As far as she knew, Mick had never had any problems with the law, but then, she didn’t know a lot about his history.

  “Who invited the performers?” the sergeant added, addressing Mick rather than Maura.

  “Some people put the word out, is all,” Mick told him. “Nothing so formal as an invitation. You know how that happens.”

  “Do any of the people who performed here live nearby?”

  Mick shrugged. “I can’t say.”

  “So no one knew this Crowley would be here last night?”

  Maura was growing impatient. She had a business to run, and there was a dead man in the back of the house. “What are you getting at? You don’t know how he died, so why are you asking these questions? Why ask Mick?”

  “Maura,” Sean began, in an apparent attempt to sound soothing, “we’re only doin’ our job. Since we can’t say how the man died, we have to treat the death as unexplained until we find out.”

  “Which will take an autopsy, right? So when are your people going to get him out of here to do that? And can I open for business?”

  The sergeant and Sean exchanged a glance, and finally the sergeant shrugged and addressed Maura. “Might be we should treat this as a crime scene until we know more, but it sounds like there was so much going on last night that we’d be swamped with information and no way to know what’s important. You had a couple of hundred people tramping through here, I’d wager, and half of them in the back room at any one time. It’d take all the forensic lads in the whole country to sort through the mess. So I’d say, go ahead and open.”

  Maura felt a surge of relief. “Thank you! Look, if it helps, I can close off the back room. We don’t generally use it anyway—I’ll just say it’s off-limits for now. We’ll wait until we hear from you to open it up again. Fair enough?”

  “That’d be grand, thank you,” the sergeant said, clearly relieved at the compromise. “I’ll wait outside for the van, Murphy.”