Buried In a Bog Page 11

  Rose opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of cracking wood, several loud thumps, and a howl, all issuing from—the basement?

  Rose ran toward the basement door, and Maura followed. “Da?” Rose called down into the dark. “Are you all right?”

  “The fecking stair gave way. I’ve broken me arm, I think.”

  Rose looked stricken. “Oh no!” She looked stunned, and helpless. Maura was reminded again of how young she was.

  “Is there another way in and out of the basement?” Maura demanded.

  “No. Well, yes, but it’s locked and nobody’s had the key in a donkey’s age.”

  “So we’ll have to get him out this way.” Maura pushed past Rose and peered down at what remained of the rickety stairs, and Jimmy Sweeney sprawled at the bottom, lit by a single feeble bulb hanging from a cord. She could tell that his arm was bent in a direction that nature had not intended. She could also tell that a couple of the treads of the stairs were splintered—but luckily not all of them. “Jimmy, don’t move. I’m coming down.”

  Maura stepped on to the top tread gingerly, but it held her weight. So did the second and third. By the fourth tread, the stairs were protesting, weakened by the missing treads, but Maura carefully felt her way down, one step at a time, placing her feet at the edges and managing to bypass the broken ones. Once at the bottom, she knelt by Jimmy, who was pale and sweating, even in the cool basement. “Where’s the nearest doctor, Jimmy?” she asked.

  He looked up at her blankly. “What? We don’t have one here.”

  “Where, then? Skibbereen?”

  He shook his head. “Only a clinic there, and they’d only send me to hospital.”

  Maura was getting frustrated. “Okay, Jimmy, where is the nearest hospital?”

  “There’s one in Bandon, but it’s small. The big one’s in Cork.”

  “The city?” When Jimmy nodded, she asked, “Is there an ambulance service?”

  He nodded, then added, “But there’s no guarantee they’d be here any time soon, and this hurts like the very devil. You could drive me to Cork?” He looked plaintively up at her.

  Maura quailed inwardly. Drive to Cork? She could barely manage country lanes, and he wanted her to drive in a city? But clearly Jimmy was in pain, and it didn’t seem right not to do something. “What about Rose? Can she drive?”

  “We’ve no car, and she’s never learned.”

  No help there. “Can you direct me to the hospital?”

  He nodded. Maura stood up, then called up the stairs to Rose. “Rose, your father wants me to take him to the hospital in Cork.”

  Luckily Rose had recovered from her first panic. “Right. What can I do to help?”

  “Stay there—I don’t think the stairs will take the weight of all of us at once. I’ll try to get him upstairs, and then we’ll go in my car.”

  She turned back to the man on the floor, trying to remember her rudimentary first aid classes. “Anything else hurting you, Jimmy? Did you hit your head?” When he shook his head, Maura said, “You’ve got to stand up now, so you can get up the stairs. Here, let me help.” She went around to his good side and grabbed him under the arm, and somehow managed to get him to his feet, although he complained steadily. “Can you handle the stairs?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’ll stay behind you, and Rose will be waiting at the top. Ready?”

  Slowly but surely he succeeded in climbing up what was left of the stairs, with Rose pulling him up the last two steps. At the top he leaned against the wall, panting, but at least his color was better.

  Maura followed quickly. “My car’s out front—just a few steps, Jimmy, and then you can lay down again.”

  “I’m good,” he said, pushing off from the wall, wincing, then clutching his injured arm to his chest. Maura led him out the front door, with Rose trailing anxiously behind.

  “I’m coming with you, Da,” she said.

  “Who’ll look after the pub?” Jimmy protested.

  Maura looked at him. “Call Mick Nolan, if you’re that worried. Rose, you’re coming with us.”

  “Don’t worry, Da, I’ve got me mobile. I’ll text Mick. And I’ll put up a sign sayin’ we’re closed for an emergency, shall I?” Jimmy waved a hand at her feebly, and Maura nodded her approval.

  While Maura settled Jimmy in the backseat, Rose walked a few feet away to send the text. She’d returned by the time Maura climbed into the driver’s seat. “It’s done, Da. Mick answered that he’d be round in an hour or two.”

  “Then let’s go,” Maura said grimly. The sooner she got on the road, the sooner she’d get off of it. At least it was daylight. “Which way?”

  “Take the main road, and I’ll talk you through the roundabouts,” Jimmy said. He lay back and shut his eyes, cradling his injured arm.

  The drive proved easier than she had expected. Most of the route was the main highway, although it did weave through a few small towns along the way, but Rose helped her navigate the turns, and traffic was light. It turned out that she didn’t need to go into the center of Cork, because the hospital lay on the south side of the city. At least Jimmy had managed to fall at midday; if he had done it during rush hour, she might have been a second casualty. Maura fumbled her way through a couple of roundabouts and sets of stoplights until the large brick bulk of the hospital loomed on her left.

  “Do we go to the emergency room?” she asked Rose as she waited for the light at the entrance to change.

  “The what?” Rose said. “Oh, right, A and E. That’s Accidents and Emergencies. Turn in here, then go right quickly, and then left. I’ll see to getting him inside.”

  Maura followed Rose’s instructions, surprised at how many people seemed to be suffering from accidents and emergencies: there was no place to park. “I’ll drop you off, then see if I can find parking somewhere. Here, let me help you out, Jimmy.”

  She pulled on the parking brake, and between them, Rose and Maura hauled Jimmy out of the backseat. On the pavement he took a moment to steady himself, then with Rose hovering anxiously, he shuffled toward the entrance. Several impatient honks reminded Maura that she was blocking the drive, and she climbed back into the car and pulled away from the curb. Now where? She tried to recall whether she had any money on her, if she had to pay for parking. If she could find parking. There was a lot across the drive from the A and E, but it looked full. Surely a hospital this size must have more parking somewhere? She got herself turned back the way she came, and began a slow circuit of the hospital building. She stopped suddenly when a uniformed police officer appeared—and then she realized she recognized him: Sean Murphy. What on earth was he doing here? She pulled up alongside the curb quickly. He looked at the car once, then looked again and recognized her, and came closer. Maura rolled down the window.

  “Fancy seeing you again. Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Jimmy Sweeney fell, and it looks like he broke his arm.”

  Officer Murphy nodded. “Ah, that one. Wouldn’t be the first time. So you delivered him here?”

  “There didn’t seem to be anyone else to drive him. What are you doing here?”

  He looked around him before answering, but the pavement was empty. “There’s been another death.”

  “What?” Had she heard right?

  Officer Murphy rested his elbow on the roof of the car and leaned closer. “A man was found dead in Skibbereen this morning, apparently the victim of a robbery. That’s why I’m here—this is where they do the autopsies for the county. I was picking up the report for the poor Bog Man and delivering the next case.”

  “That’s awful. So that’s why no one had the time to talk to me this morning. Was he a local man?”

  “He was. Just come from the cash point, but no money was found on him. Someone dragged the body out of sight, so he wasn’t discovered until this morning.”

  Maura wondered if he was talking about the same ATM she had noted earlier—in plain sight
, on a busy street. Hardly the place she would have expected a mugging. Impatient car horns behind her reminded Maura that she was still in the driveway. “Look, I’m not sure where to park. Will it take long for someone to see Jimmy?”

  “If he’s not at death’s door, it could be a while—hours, at least. Were you planning to wait?”

  “I…don’t know. I’m making this up as I go. Can you point me toward a cheap parking lot?”

  “Of course. Go halfway round the building again, and you’ll see it on your left.” He stepped away from the car.

  “Thanks for the help,” Maura said as she pulled out and followed his directions, and was rewarded with a parking space. She sat for a moment, turning over what Sean Murphy had just told her: two men dead, in the course of two days. Well, the first one didn’t count, because he’d probably been dead for a while. Still, she felt a chill go through her, then shook it off. One problem at a time: right now she had to deal with Jimmy’s. She headed for the nearest entrance, followed the signs to the A and E, and found Jimmy and Rose seated on hard plastic chairs in a crowded waiting area.

  “What’s the word?” she asked.

  “Do yeh see that board, over the glass there?” Jimmy said.

  Maura looked up to see a digital board with scrolling letters in bright red. “And?”

  “I’m number 257. They’ve reached number 193. I may be called by Christmas.” He winced as he shifted in the hard plastic chair.

  Rose piped up, “You should go back to the pub, Maura. No point in waiting—it’ll be hours yet.”

  “How will you get home?”

  “They’ll call a cab for us. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Go on back, help Mick out,” Jimmy said.

  Briefly Maura wondered why he’d be worried about that, until with a start she realized that this second death that Sean Murphy had told her about would probably boost attendance tonight; Jimmy was more right than he knew. “I guess I’ll leave, then, if you’re sure.”

  “Go on, then. Don’t worry,” Jimmy said. Rose smiled weakly and made shooing motions.

  “Then I’ll see you later, or maybe tomorrow. Take care, Jimmy—I hope it’s not too bad.”

  Back on the road again, Maura concentrated on remembering the route, only in reverse. Once she’d reached relatively open road past all the roundabouts, she relaxed a bit. She didn’t know a whole lot about the Irish health care system—nothing, in fact, except that it covered a lot of people for not much money. Did people here have insurance? Or were services, or at least emergency treatment, free to everyone? Her grandmother’s last illness had drained her meager savings, even though she had had basic insurance coverage. Could Jimmy afford to pay for whatever he needed? He and Rose didn’t seem to have much. Did the pub face any liability for his accident, or was that just American thinking, planning a lawsuit before the ambulance had even arrived? Only there weren’t a lot of ambulances, apparently. She might even suspect Jimmy of having manufactured his accident to get out of doing the heavy work, but she’d seen his arm, and there was no way to fake that.

  Maura arrived back at the pub just as darkness was falling. The lights inside Sullivan’s glowed warmly. There were already several cars parked in front, and she could see people inside. Smoke eddied from the chimney, so someone had lit the fire. She decided to park back at the bed and breakfast, to leave room for customers’ cars in front of the pub. When she walked back and pushed her way into Sullivan’s, she was greeted with smoky warmth and the sound of many voices. Mick Nolan looked up, then beckoned her over.

  “What’s the word?” he asked in a low voice.

  “I’m not sure—I left Jimmy and Rose in the emergency room, or whatever you call it around here. They said they would be there for a while, and that I’d be more useful here. Looks like I was right.”

  “It’ll be a busy night. There’s been a killing in Skibbereen.”

  “Oh,” she said. News sure traveled fast around here, so clearly she didn’t need to worry about keeping it a secret for Sean Murphy’s sake. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here.”

  “It is that.”

  The night faded into a blur as more and more people poured into Sullivan’s. There were many new faces, although to Maura most faces in town would be new: the youngest seemed to be in their twenties, the oldest anywhere from seventy to ninety. The latter group included Billy Sheahan, reigning from his customary chair by the fire. He raised a hand to her but didn’t seem to expect any conversation, since it was clear she didn’t have the time.

  She caught snippets as she moved through the crowd, delivering pints and picking up empty glasses. It didn’t take her long to hear the name of the dead man: Bart Hayes. She froze in place, shocked.

  Mick noticed quickly. He came over, grabbed her arm, and guided her back to the bar. “What’s wrong?”

  She swallowed. “The dead man, Bart Hayes—he was just here yesterday, late afternoon.” He’d been so happy. It was hard to take in that he’d been killed only a few hours later.

  Mick nodded. “He’s a regular. He drives by here most days, stops in now and then. He was a good man. Are you all right?”

  Maura nodded. “I will be, I guess. Such a shame.” She picked up the next round of drinks. After a couple of hours she had pieced together most of the story. Bart Hayes had been on his way home, had stopped to celebrate at another pub or two. It must have been later when he stopped at a bank ATM to take out some cash, well after dark. Someone had hit him on the head and dragged him out of sight near the river, then emptied his pockets. Maura could guess how few people there would be out on the streets late in the evening. The blow had proven fatal. There was no useful evidence (at least, none that anyone in the pub knew of), and robbery seemed to be the only motive. The man was local and generally well liked. And now he was dead. So far there were no suspects, and the gardaí were interviewing anyone who admitted to having been in town anytime after six p.m. The opinion among the crowd at Sullivan’s was evenly divided between those who thought an arrest would come quickly and those who believed they’d never find the attacker. In the latter camp, there was agreement that the attacker was not a local man and was probably long gone. Wishful thinking? Maura wondered.

  Mick finally shut down the lights shortly past midnight and hustled out the last patrons, locking the door behind them. “Long day,” Maura said, sitting gratefully on a stool at the bar. “Any word from Jimmy?”

  “Rose left me a message that they were on their way home. He’s meant to take it easy for a day or two—it was a clean break—but Rose said she’d cover. Can I get you something?”

  “You mean, a drink? Are you having one?”

  “I’ll join you. A half-pint?”

  “Okay.” Maura watched as he poured two smaller glasses from the Guinness tap. When he finally slid it across the bar, he raised his own and said, “Sláinte.”

  “And to you,” Maura said, raising her glass. Then she reminded herself to go slow: she’d missed dinner again. Had Jimmy managed to bring in any food before his accident? “Mick, what’s going to happen with this place? Or maybe I should ask, what do you want to happen with it?”

  “It’s been here for a long time. There used to be music, in the back room. Old Mick ruled the place like his own little kingdom, and he had plenty of loyal subjects.”

  “Will they keep coming?”

  “Hard to say. Many of the old regulars are gone now, except Old Billy.”

  “How do you attract new people to replace them?”

  “I don’t know. But that wasn’t your question, was it?”

  “Not really. What I’m asking is, do you expect to stay on, whatever happens?”

  “Maybe. It depends. I’m hoping…”

  “What?” Maura asked.

  Mick looked down at the bar and moved his glass around in small circles. “Old Mick never married, although there are plenty of relatives around. I’m pretty sure Jimmy’s hoping that he’ll get at least a piece of the place, i
f there’s a will to be found.”

  “And you? You want a share?”

  “It’s a good business. Could be better if it’s handled right.”

  He kept ducking the question, Maura noticed. No simple “yes” or “no” answer. “Do you stay around Leap because of your grandmother?”

  He looked at her then. “You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You’re right—I do. But Gran was the only family I ever had, or ever knew, and I couldn’t leave her alone. Not that I had any big ideas about what I wanted to do. But I bet you have other options.”

  “We all have choices. I’ve made mine, for now. My gran’s well into her eighties. There’s time to decide later. For now, this is a decent place to be.”

  He didn’t seem the least bitter about it, Maura reflected. She couldn’t really say whether she was bitter either about giving so much of her life to helping Gran. She’d loved her and believed she owed her something. It had been her choice. In any case, she was not one to throw stones at Mick Nolan.

  “Sorry, I mean, it’s your life. And I do understand your wanting to be around for your gran. When did she move to Knockskagh?”

  “When she married, at seventeen.”

  “Wow, that was young. Were there a lot of kids?”

  “I had my own share of aunts and uncles. Most are gone now.”

  “Gone as in somewhere else, or have they passed on?”

  “A bit of each. Before you ask, my father Denis died of pancreatic cancer a few years ago, and my mother lives with my sister Bridget in Clonakilty. Any more questions?”

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” Maura replied, bristling. “It just seems like everyone around here knows a whole lot about me, but I don’t know them at all. How else am I supposed to find out anything?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be short with you. It’s been a difficult day, and I’m tired. You must be too, and I’d guess that Jimmy won’t be of much use for a bit, so it’s up to us to handle the place. Are you good with that?”

  “I’m used to working hard, if that’s what you’re asking. There’s nowhere else I have to be, right now. Good enough?”