An Early Wake Page 12

“What about the rest of the musicians?” Maura asked. “If Niall decided to stop by, they may too. A lot of them knew Aidan, right?” Maura’s phone rang in her pocket, and when she fished it out she recognized Sean’s number again. She held up a finger to Mick and Jimmy, then turned and walked into the far corner before answering. She looked quickly around to be sure that no patrons could hear her. “Sean? Is there something new?”

  Sean came straight to the point. “I’m looking fer Niall Cronin, and fer Timothy Reilly as well.”

  “Niall’s right here. I haven’t seen Timothy today. Uh, Sean, how much can I tell the people who come in today?”

  “Tell whoever comes in that Aidan Crowley is dead, and it looks like it was his heart. It still might have been an accident, and no one meant to kill him. But don’t say more than you have to. Can you keep Niall Cronin there?” Sean asked.

  “I don’t think he’s in any hurry. He seems kind of upset. He came looking for Aidan, wondering if he needed a ride back to Cork.”

  “Well, keep him there. I’ll need a word with him.”

  “Are you coming back now?”

  “I am.”

  Maura thought for a moment. “Look, are you going to have to round up everybody and interview them one at a time? I hate to sound cold, but that would be lousy for business here. And there’s no place here to do it, unless you use the back room.”

  “I understand yer concern, Maura. Truth be told, it might be best if we kept this low-key—people might be more willing to talk to us. Just sit in the pub and chat with ’em—less formal than an interview.”

  “Can you do that? I mean, just sit here and talk?”

  “It’s not the way we’d choose to do it, but given the circumstances it might be the best. I’ll see yeh in an hour, no more, Maura.”

  “Thanks, Sean.” It was kind of an unusual interview strategy, but she agreed that the informal setting, combined with a few pints, might loosen some tongues. And given how many people had passed through Sullivan’s the night before—and how small the Skibbereen police force was—it might be the best chance to get any real information while it was still fresh. Bringing in gardaí from other stations would probably slow down the process, which wasn’t good—not that there were many other stations, or men to pull from them. And then individual interviews could take a week, and a lot of the people would be gone long before that. This was the best chance.

  She ended the call, then turned to Mick and Jimmy, who didn’t pretend they hadn’t been listening. “Our story is that Aidan died of a heart attack, which is true anyway. It just might not be the whole truth. Sean says he’s leaving the morgue now, so he’ll be here in an hour or so. Until then, we should listen to what everyone who was here last night has to say. Don’t ask questions, just let people talk, and pay attention. Sound good?”

  “Gettin’ this group to talk will be easy, especially with a pint or two in them,” Jimmy said. “Should we offer a free round on account of Aidan?”

  The suggestion made sense, even if it meant saying good-bye to a chunk of the day’s profits. “Good idea. But one round only, please—we can’t afford more than that. Let’s go.”

  “I’ll explain to Rosie,” Jimmy said, leading the way.

  The church crowd started trickling in a half hour later; more followed a while after that, likely after first going home or to the hotel for Sunday dinner. By midafternoon the place was packed. Sean had come in and kind of set up shop sometime earlier while Maura wasn’t watching, and she’d been careful to let him go about his official business, although he wasn’t wearing a uniform. As she had guessed, he was doing informal interviews. When she had time to think, Maura wondered why Tim hadn’t shown his face yet. Niall hadn’t left; in fact, he had settled himself on a stool in the center of the bar and was holding forth to anyone who would listen, and there was no shortage of eager ears. Niall still looked sad, and the snatches of conversation that Maura heard revolved around the days when Aidan and Niall had crossed paths while playing in Dublin. She hoped that Mick was keeping up with who said what; Maura was having trouble following all the talk, but then, she didn’t know half the people there.

  She brought Billy a fresh pint when he was alone for a brief moment. She set it on the table, then dropped into the chair next to him.

  “How’re yeh doing, Maura?” Billy asked softly.

  She considered for a moment. She felt sad, mostly. A bit angry. Some self-pity over how an otherwise extraordinary event had gotten messed up. Worried about what might come next. Finally she said, “Okay, I think. How close do you think Niall and Aidan were, really?”

  “Back in the day, I’d say they were mates. But it has been a long time, decades even, since they’d gotten together. People do drift apart.” Billy studied Maura’s face. “I see young Murphy’s come in,” he said, nodding toward the opposite corner. “He’s doin’ more listenin’ than talkin’.”

  “Yeah, he told me he was coming,” Maura said. “He figured this was the best way to get information. Besides, rounding up and interviewing everyone who showed up last night would be a nightmare, even if it’s possible.”

  “Smart lad, that one. He’s right.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have had something against Aidan?”

  “I’m flattered that yer askin’, but I hadn’t seen the man in years. He was never a harsh man, nor much of a fighter—the heart, yeh know.”

  “I know, you told me. And Sean confirmed it. Any idea why he would have come back here after closing?”

  “Looking for a place to kip for a bit? Old Mick used to let the players stay on. Maybe he didn’t want to ask you, seein’ as you don’t know how it was back then. I dunno. Keep talking to folk and see what comes out of their mouths.” Billy looked up to see another group of men coming in the door. Maura recognized a couple of them as musicians from the night before.

  “I’d better get back to work,” she said. “Let me know if you hear anything interesting.” She was about to add “or tell Sean” but realized that the odds of Old Billy navigating his way all the way across the room to where Sean sat were slim to none. But if Sean was as smart as Billy thought, he’d find his way to Billy soon enough.

  There was a slight lull at about four, and Maura slipped into the chair opposite Sean, setting a mug of tea in front of him. “You look like you can use this.”

  “That I can. I’ve been talking fer hours.”

  “Have you learned anything new?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be all night writing down what I think I heard, and I may have missed a lot, but I still don’t see that we’ve made much progress.”

  “Poor man!” Maura laughed. “There’s a lot of paperwork back home for me too, so don’t feel too sorry for yourself. And you should talk to Billy—he’s paying attention. Has anybody said anything that leads you to think—” She stopped when Sean fixed her with a stern glare. “To think they think there’s anything unexpected about this?” she finished carefully.

  “I can’t say.”

  She’d expected him to say that. She looked around the crowded room. “This may take quite a while. Will you be staying all evening?”

  “Sergeant Regan will be coming in soon, and I’ll go back to the station and try to set down what I’ve heard. There’ll be the regular meeting in the mornin’, and I’ll call you after and let you know where we are by then. Keep talking with your lot here, will ya? They might see something differently than I do, knowing more of the people and all, and they might have heard something new durin’ the day today.”

  “I’ll do that.” Of course, she would have done it even if Sean hadn’t asked. “Unless, of course, you guys have it all wrapped up by then.”

  Sean smiled. “Hope lives on. Thanks fer the tea. Now, go on about yer business, so I can do mine.”

  Maura stood up. “Okay, then, I will.”

  She joined Rose behind the bar and then realized again that she hadn’t seen Tim all day. His absence now was
a little strange. Maybe he’d been spooked when he heard about Aidan’s death. “Have you seen or talked to Tim today?” she asked Rose.

  “That I haven’t, and I’ve been worried about him. You’d think he’d be all over this—all these idols of his together talkin’ about the past, not carin’ who’s listenin’. Maybe I should run over to the Keohanes’ house and see if he’s all right?,” Rose volunteered eagerly. “If yeh can spare me, that is.”

  The crowd was manageable, at least temporarily, and there might not be another opportunity for Rose. “If you move fast,” Maura said. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a busy night, and I’ll need you here. Tell Tim that Niall is here—that might bring him.”

  “I will. See yeh in a bit.” Rose all but ran out the front door. Maura watched her through the window and saw Rose crossing the street before heading down to the Keohanes’ house below the road.

  She turned to find Niall leaning on the bar, minus the entourage he’d had all day. “A pint?” Maura asked.

  “Please,” he said.

  Maura started the pint, then looked up to see Rose returning with a rather bedraggled Tim. The last time she had seen Tim, the night before, he hadn’t appeared to be drunk, but he certainly looked hungover now. Rose all but dragged him toward the bar.

  “Well, Tim, looks like you must have had quite a night.” Maura greeted him. “Did you get what you wanted?”

  “I don’t know. Could I get a cup of coffee?”

  “I’ll get it,” Rose said quickly.

  Tim settled himself on a stool without even noticing who his near neighbor was. Niall took pity on him. “Yeh should be pleased with yerself, after what yeh started.”

  Tim focused slowly, then recognized Niall. “Maybe I should have left well enough alone.”

  That was an odd comment, Maura thought. He’d been so eager only the day before. What had happened?

  Niall appeared taken aback. “Why are yeh sayin’ that? I thought it was a grand evening. Haven’t seen the like for quite a while. Were yeh disappointed?”

  “No. It’s just—it wasn’t what I expected. None of it. Excuse me.” He stood up abruptly and bolted for the bathroom. Maura hoped he made it in time before he lost whatever he’d had to eat that day. And why was he still drunk this long after the event had ended?

  She looked at Rose, but Rose looked as bewildered as she felt.

  Niall had an odd half smile on his face. “Looks like he was pretty much hammered, eh? Not much experience with hard partying, that one. He’ll learn.”

  Tim came back, still pale around the gills. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to say yeh didn’t do a great job last night, Maura. It’s just that it wasn’t what I thought it would be. That’s on me. And yeh were wonderful . . . Niall.”

  Maura glanced at Rose. “Did you tell him . . . ?”

  Rose shook her head. “I hadn’t the chance.”

  Tim blinked. “Tell me what?”

  “Tim, I’m sorry to say that Aidan Crowley is dead. I found him here when I opened up.”

  Tim turned even paler than he had been before and dashed back toward the toilets.

  Chapter 16

  The night dragged on and on. Tim remained in hiding for a while, then slunk back into the room and sat in a dark corner, looking miserable. Rose volunteered to go to the takeaway place and bring back some food for Maura, Mick, Jimmy, and Sean, and even Tim, although she had to know he might not have much of an appetite. What is his problem? Maura wondered. He wasn’t talking to anyone at the pub—not Rose, not even the music semi-stars who had wandered in. Despite Aidan Crowley’s untimely death, Tim should have been in his element, collecting a wealth of material for his project as well as a unique perspective on how music worked in this corner of Ireland. And yet now he was missing more opportunities—why?

  Niall had hung around too, graciously fielding questions from others who came in and worked up the courage to talk with him. When he was briefly alone, Maura went over and said, “No music tonight?”

  Niall looked at her curiously. “I’d say it’s not the right thing fer now. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I agree, but I wasn’t sure what local customs are.”

  “Did you say yer from Boston? Surely there’s enough Irish there to carry on the old customs.”

  “I guess. I didn’t pay much attention, and I think a lot of it was aimed at tourists, and it wasn’t really authentic. So why no music to honor one of your, uh, fallen comrades?”

  “Because we don’t know the story. When we do, then we’ll honor him.”

  Niall thinks there is a story? That’s odd. “I hope it will be soon.”

  Niall looked around him. “Seems to be doing yer business no harm.”

  Maura was stung by his comment, though it was true. “Not my preferred way to make money,” she said sharply.

  Niall ducked his head. “Fair enough. My apologies.”

  “Accepted,” she replied with a sigh. “So tell me, were you and Aidan close?”

  “Twenty years ago, I’d have said yes—as well as I knew any of me mates. Most of us who played with one band or another have run into each other now and again. Or used to. A lot have left the music behind now.” Niall took another long draw of his pint. He glanced around; most people had returned to their own conversations, with only the occasional glance his way. “Aidan and I, we go way back. Like so many lads back then, we started playin’ together before we left school. He had some talent, back then. We must’ve been part of, oh, three or four bands, but he and I were the only ones who stuck with it.”

  “How far did he go?”

  “He did a demo album or two that got some attention, but somehow something always went wrong. The recording company folded or the gigs stopped coming or yet another band member dropped out. Never his fault, exactly—he showed up and did his part, but he had lousy luck.”

  “You two didn’t stick together?”

  “Not after the first coupla years. Not that we had a falling-out, but we ended up going in different directions, kinda. He kept on with the fiddle. A lot of bands then, and even now, still hung on to the old Celtic sound, so he found work often enough.”

  “Did he get into drink or drugs?”

  “Yeh know about his heart?” When Maura nodded, Niall said, “He knew he couldn’t do that kinda thing. But he also couldn’t do much heavy work, and that was most of what was available then, to a lad with little education. Again, he was dealt a bad hand. He tried, truly, but he never caught a break.”

  “Did you keep in touch with him?”

  “Now and again. I mean, the man knew me when, if yeh hear what I’m sayin’. I could be meself with him, not some aging idol.” Niall leaned back on the bar stool. “I hadn’t seen Aidan in ten years or more, until I came upon him in that pub the other day. Do yeh know Cork?”

  “Only the bus station.”

  “What, yer chained to this place?”

  “More or less,” Maura answered, but without resentment. “I’m not much of a sightseer. And I’ve got a business to run.”

  Niall glanced around again, and Maura interrupted him before he could comment. “I know, it’s kind of a dump, but I can only do so much at once. I’m working on it.”

  Niall smiled. “I was going to say, there are a lot of good memories here, soaked into these old walls. You’d do well to tap into that if yeh can. You’ve a good start, with this weekend.”

  “Yeah, except for Aidan.”

  “There is that,” Niall conceded. “But I’d be surprised if that kept people away, if you play yer cards right.”

  “How so?” Maura asked.

  “A fair number of people remember the music here. Old Billy recalls it all. Mick there was a starry-eyed kid, and that’s another piece of the picture. You can use that. You could make it work. If yeh want.”

  “Would you come back? To play, I mean?” Maura challenged him.

  “I might do. We’ll see.”

  And then another
group came over and drew Niall away.

  Maura didn’t have the heart to throw people out until past closing time, but she hoped the gardaí would look the other way once again, considering the circumstances. Still, it startled her to see Sean Murphy outside her door when she finally shooed a few stragglers away. She hadn’t even seen him leave, or seen his sergeant arrive. “Coming to cite me for keeping late hours, Sean?” she asked, smiling.

  “I’m off duty, at least fer now.”

  “Are you coming in?”

  “I will. Actually, I was looking for that young lad over there.” Sean nodded toward Tim, sunk in misery in the corner. Even Rose had given up trying to cheer him up, and Maura had sent her home a few hours earlier. She had gone without protest.

  “You haven’t talked with him yet?” Maura asked.

  “I hadn’t the time earlier in the day. I heard he was staying at Ellen Keohane’s place, but when I stopped by there on my way here earlier she told me she hadn’t heard a sound from him all day. I wondered if he’d packed it in and gone back to Dublin, but his car was still there.”

  “Rose went over and dragged him out of his room and over here this afternoon,” Maura told him, “but he’s been moping ever since. Which kind of surprised me, because he was so excited about the research possibilities on the music the last couple of days. But so far the only thing he’s researched tonight is the bottom of a glass.”

  “Is he sober now, do you think?”

  “Ask him. But if you’re off duty, shouldn’t you wait until tomorrow to talk to him?”

  “Maybe yer right. It’s been a long day. Could yeh do me a pint?”

  “Coming up.”

  Mick emerged from the cellar stairs and greeted Sean, then turned to Maura. “We’ll be needing to reorder in the morning—we’re running low.”

  “I’m not surprised. Can we get a fast delivery?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Mick sat a couple of seats down from Sean at the bar. “Since yer already there, could yeh fix me a coffee?”

  “Sure, why not? At least then I’ll feel useful.”

  Mick ignored her dig. “Anythin’ new on Crowley’s death, Sean?”