Fatal Roots Page 3

  Much to Maura’s surprise, Helen did, dropping into a chair at a corner table. “I’m sorry. Oh, I already said that, but I mean it. The whole hotel package changed almost overnight, once we lost John, and I was sent over on short notice to see if I could fix it. If I can’t, I’ll get the blame and probably be out of a job. I’d like this to work, because I think it’s a great place, but getting the hotel back on its feet won’t be easy. And I had no time to plan anything.”

  “Which is why you brought Susan along?”

  “More or less. Susan didn’t want to go to a camp like her brother, so I suggested to my husband that she could come with me. He liked the idea, but I’m not sure she did. She’s never been outside the country before.”

  Maura glanced at Susan, who was staring out the front window and pretending she wasn’t there.

  “Not like you gave me a choice,” Susan muttered to no one in particular.

  Maura swallowed a smile. “What did she think you were going to do here?”

  “I was going to figure that out when we got here,” Helen said. “I guess I didn’t think this through very well.”

  “I can find something to do,” Susan protested.

  “Helen, Rose should be in soon—remember her? She’s pretty close to Susan’s age. We’re working on building out the kitchen. So, I warn you, Susan—if you don’t find something else to do, I’ll put you to work here. That should impress your friends.”

  Susan snorted.

  “Try it. You might like it. Helen, are you going back to the hotel now?”

  “Yes. And Susan’s coming with me for now. I’m sorry if I overreacted, but when your child disappears in a foreign country, you get scared. Give me a little time and we can start over.”

  “That’s fine. Susan, I’ll ask Rose if she needs some help. There’s still a lot of physical stuff to be done in the kitchen space, and we haven’t even begun to think about appliances and plates and pans and all that stuff.”

  “Oh, good heavens,” Helen said suddenly. “I promised to look into whatever appliances the hotel wants to replace. Susan, remind me to check with the contractors and see what’s available—maybe Maura can use the recycled pieces here.”

  “That would be great,” Maura told her, although she wasn’t even sure what she needed yet. “Susan, you can call me tomorrow, and maybe you can come meet Rose and the others.”

  “Cool.” Susan at least looked less angry than she had.

  “Then let’s go, Susan,” Helen said. I think I need another nap. Thank you, Maura.” And they were gone.

  Maura turned to Mick, who was behind the bar pretending not to listen. “Looks like it may be an interesting summer.”

  Chapter Three

  When Helen and Susan had left, Maura found she was happy. She’d been carrying a lot of resentment around with her all her life because her mother had vanished from Boston and never bothered to contact her, so getting to know Helen when she had first visited Ireland had been kind of challenging. Then Maura had had to clear up the murder of Helen’s boss, whose company owned the hotel outside of Skibbereen, which had made things even more complicated. But they’d managed to work their way to something like a relationship.

  Now Susan had been added to the equation, and from what little Maura had seen, Susan wasn’t too happy about any of this—meeting her secret sister, seeing the pub, being stuck with her busy mother in an unfamiliar place for who knew how long. Susan needed something to do with her time, and there weren’t a whole lot of options in this part of West Cork. Would Helen find some sort of job for her at the hotel? Or should Maura try to work her in at the pub? Maura needed to talk with Rose.

  “She favors yeh—the girl, I mean,” Mick said, as he collected the empty cups.

  “You mean you think she looks like me?” Maura asked. That was something she hadn’t considered.

  “And like yer mother. I’ve no clue what your father looked like, as a grown man.”

  “I’ve only seen a few pictures, but I always thought he looked Irish. Not that I knew what that meant. Anyway, Susan doesn’t seem to be thrilled to be here. Maybe it’s just her age, or maybe she had secret plans for back home, but somebody’s going to have to find something to keep her busy, if she’ll be staying long.” Which Helen hadn’t bothered to mention.

  “Give her some time to settle in. And she can meet the rest of the crew here—they’re nearer her age.”

  “That they are. I feel kind of old when I’m with them, especially since they know more than I do about running this place. So, what do we need to do today?”

  “Only the usual. Don’t worry yerself—business will pick up soon enough.”

  “I hope so.”

  Maura couldn’t hear any sound from upstairs: apparently Sophie and Niall had left for their current jobs very early. She still hadn’t gotten used to having—what should she call them? Boarders? Guests? Employees? She couldn’t complain, because they worked hard and kept the place cleaned up. It was good to have Niall working behind the bar, especially on those occasional nights when things got busy. She’d inherited Rose’s father, Jimmy, when she first arrived, but he hadn’t really pulled his weight, and she’d been relieved when he got married again and moved in with his new wife. The few times he’d been back to the pub, he’d seemed less than happy to be a dairy farmer, but Maura wasn’t inclined to offer him his old job back. Having Niall on staff gave her an additional excuse to turn Jimmy away. Not that Sullivan’s required a bouncer, or whatever they were called in Ireland, but every now and then things got a bit rowdy, and having another male presence was helpful.

  Rose came bustling in after her class in Skibbereen. “Mornin’, Maura, Mick. Another slow day? Mebbe I can get some work done on the kitchen. We need to get it workin’.”

  “Helen’s back in town,” Maura told her.

  “Yer mother? Will she be workin’ to fix up the hotel?”

  “Looks like it, maybe. They still have to figure out what they want to do with the place. And this time she brought her daughter Susan with her.”

  “Daughter …” Rose said thoughtfully, then brightened. “That’d be your sister?”

  “She is, or at least, half sister. She’s about sixteen and she doesn’t want to be in Ireland with her mother, who won’t have much time for her anyway. I was hoping maybe we could find something for her to do—as long as it’s not serving drinks, which I know is illegal.”

  “I’ll think about it. Didn’t yer mother offer to give us any kitchen appliances she replaces at the hotel?” Rose asked.

  “She remembered, and she’s going to see what she’s got. Whatever she’s getting rid of is probably a lot newer than what we’ve got.”

  “Didja know she was comin’?”

  “Nope. And you missed all the fun: Susan escaped from the hotel and was waiting outside when I got here this morning.”

  “Yeh’re joking!” Rose said, until she looked at Maura’s expression. “Yeh’re not? Yer mother musta been boilin’ mad. What’s Susan like?”

  “Not too happy at the moment. I don’t think she wanted to be here—it was her mother’s idea. Plus apparently Helen didn’t tell her about me until she had to. She sneaked away while her mother was at a meeting this morning to come here. I don’t know what she might have done if she hated me on sight—headed back to the airport, maybe? Anyway, I thought maybe you’d have some ideas about what she can do around here.”

  “She sounds a bit young to be workin’ here at the pub.”

  “I agree,” Maura told her. “And I’m not sure she’s ever had a job at all. Well, think about it. Oh, and I met someone else this morning, back at my cottage.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “An archaeologist from Cork, getting a degree at the university. She’s looking for fairy forts. Do you know what they are?”

  “Of course—I was raised around here. What’s she want with ’em?”

  “She says she’s doing research—you know,
how old they are, who built them, that kind of thing. Do you know where there are any?”

  “I do, although sometimes they’re hard to see. Will she be stayin’ around long?”

  “As long as the weather’s good, I guess. She said she’d show me the rest of my bits of land, which I haven’t had time to explore. Do I want to find a fairy fort on my property?”

  “Why would yeh not?” Rose asked.

  “Well, so far all I’ve learned about them is that a lot of people think they’re bad luck and won’t go near them.”

  “There’s plenty of room to share with the cows. Have yeh asked anyone else?”

  “No, not yet. She only showed up this morning, but we’re going to walk around tomorrow morning. If you think you and Mick can handle the business.”

  Rose looked around the room and grinned. “I think we can manage. Yeh might want to talk to Old Billy. Where will yer archaeologist be stayin’?”

  “I don’t know if she knows yet—she’s only just arrived. I told her she could crash at my place if she needed to, but I don’t really want a roommate for long.”

  “Yeh mean, other than Mick?”

  “Well, yes. But I like my privacy, and I rarely clean house or keep much food in the cottage. If you meet her, ask her how long she’ll be here and what kind of a place she’d like to stay at.”

  “There’s still the third room upstairs.”

  “So there is. She must have a car to get around, or she’d never have found my place. At least she was polite enough to ask if she could go tramping around my land. She probably knows where to find the parts of it better than I do. And she’s got maps.”

  After the excitement of the morning, things calmed down at Sullivan’s. Old Billy came in midafternoon and settled himself in his usual seat by the fireplace, which wasn’t in use at the moment. But even the summer weather was unpredictable, so the fireplace was always ready. Maura went over to say hello.

  “Hey, Billy. You ready for a pint?”

  “I won’t say no. Business slow?”

  “Kind of. Should I be worried?”

  “It’ll work itself out—it’s still early in the season, and there’s plenty goin’ on come next month.”

  Maura settled herself in the shabby armchair across from Billy’s. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course yeh may.”

  “I had a visit this morning from a woman about my age, who’s in graduate school at Cork University and who’s spending some time looking for fairy forts around here. I realized I didn’t know a darn thing about them, but I figured you would. What can you tell me? She said she’d take me along to look for some on my land, and she told me it was Mick Sullivan’s land, and you knew him well, so I figured maybe you’d know if there are any ring forts up around Knockskagh.”

  “Ah. When I was young, I remember there were several, but I couldn’t say they’re still there. Time was farmers thought they just got in the way and tore them down—and often regretted it. More recently people leave them alone, for they believe disturbing them can bring bad luck.”

  “You aren’t the first person who’s told me that. Why would that be, do you think?”

  “Hard to say, but the forts go way back, long before anybody bothered to write anythin’ down. Have you not noticed any?”

  “No, but I didn’t know there was such a thing, so I certainly wasn’t looking. And I spend a lot of time here, and usually end up driving back after dark, so I wouldn’t be likely to see them. Could you talk to this woman, if she comes in here and you remember anything? I gather we’re going looking for some tomorrow morning. Unless you tell me that would be bad luck?”

  Billy smiled at her. “Not if yeh respect ’em. And you may be surprised at how many yeh find, once yeh start lookin’.”

  “I’ll tell her. I don’t know how much she knows about the country, since I think she comes from somewhere around Cork city. I hope she doesn’t end up in a bog.”

  By late evening the crowd had thinned. Billy had left to get his supper, and Rose and Sophie were deep in conversation about how to fit out the kitchen. “You mind staying till closing?” Maura asked them. “It’s not exactly busy.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Sophie told her. “You can go on your way. When will you be in, come morning?”

  “On time, I hope, but I met an archaeologist who invited me to go exploring with her. I’ll try to make it in by opening time. If I’m not in by afternoon, send out the dogs, because we’ll probably be stuck in the mud somewhere.”

  “Take yer mobile with yeh,” Rose cautioned.

  When Maura stepped outside, the sky was still light, although the sun had sunk below the horizon. She was surprised to see Mick leaning against the building, looking out over the harbor. “Waiting for me?” Maura asked.

  “I wondered if you’d care for some company,” he said.

  “I’d like that. Ciara said she’d come by in the morning, but I think she can handle seeing you. Unless you want to come exploring with us? You can pull us out of the muck when we fall in.”

  “I’d be glad to be of service.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “Your car or mine?”

  “Both, I guess. You may want to get to Leap on time in the morning, but I may be wandering the countryside with a student, and who knows how long that will take?”

  “I’d be happy to meet the woman. Is she likely to be doing this the old-fashioned way, just poking around, or will she show up with ground-penetrating radar or drones or what have you?”

  “How on earth am I supposed to know? Would a drone help?”

  “Likely it would. The raths are much easier to see from above. At ground level they look like hedges, and you can seldom see the shape of them.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Hey, how come these things have so many names? Ring fort, fairy fort, rath? Are they different?”

  “Tradition, I’d guess. There’s no real difference among them.”

  “Big help. How do you know all this?”

  “I like the history. People lived here a long time ago, and they left little behind them. Maybe this Ciara will learn something about how they lived.”

  “Sometimes I wish I’d spent more time in school, but Gran and I just couldn’t afford it after high school, except for a class now and then. Besides, Boston doesn’t really have anything so early, or if it did, the city swallowed it all up.”

  “That’s not a problem here. Things move more slowly in Ireland.”

  “I’m learning that. Ready to go?”

  “I am.”

  Chapter Four

  Mick was finishing his second cup of coffee, and Maura was trying to figure out where she’d left her only pair of waterproof boots, when Ciara knocked at the door in the morning. “Come on in,” Maura called out, rummaging in a pile of odds and ends under the stairs.

  “Good morning, Maura,” Ciara said, then stopped at the sight of Mick. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

  “Don’t worry. This is Mick Nolan. He works with me at the pub. In fact, he’s been there a lot longer than I have,” Maura told her. “His gran lives down the lane, in that yellow house. Mick won’t be coming with us, because somebody has to open the pub. Although I’m sure he knows more about these fairy rings than I do. Do you have a plan, or are we just going to wander around until we fall over one?”

  “I’ve brought a copy of one of Griffith’s maps—have you seen them?”

  “Uh, no, and I don’t know what they are. Go ahead and tell me,” Maura said, piling the few breakfast dishes in the sink.

  “Richard Griffith was an Irish mining engineer who became boundary commissioner for Ireland in 1824,” Ciara began enthusiastically. “He defined townland boundaries, laying out in exact lines the edges of areas that had long been fluid or traditional, although he also left out a lot of the older place names, or rewrote them to sound more English than Irish. The country needed the boundaries so that the Ordnan
ce Survey could be accurate for valuation—that is, how much the land was worth. Griffith was appointed as the first commissioner for the General Survey and Valuation of Rateable Property in Ireland in 1827, following the Valuation Act of 1826, an act he was involved in drafting, and he held the position until 1868. I could explain to you why there are so many small pieces of land, all of which are recorded based on who owned them and who lived on them, but you won’t need it today. I’ll get you a copy of the Knockskagh pages, but today all I want to do is get a feel for the land and its topography, since I’ve never been here before. And I think you should see all the bits you own, and how they connect—or don’t. Let me add that starting in the later nineteenth century, the government decided to consolidate properties, so farmers ended up with the same amount of land but all in one piece, which made life easier for them. This went on for quite a while. I don’t know if any of this affected your Mick Sullivan’s land, and it shouldn’t have anything to do with where the raths were located, because they’re far earlier, well before anybody had established boundaries—as far as we know, at least. Is that enough for today’s lesson?” Ciara smiled.

  “That should do for now.” History had never been Maura’s strong suit in school, and certainly not Irish history.

  “Then let me show you an example—it might make more sense to you then. Excuse me, Mick—I need to spread this out.”

  Maura cleared the few crumbs off the table so Ciara could unroll a map, which was clearly a modern photocopy. “Is this where we are?” she asked, pointing to a blurry square on the map.

  “It is. Here’s where your house is.” Ciara pointed to one small lane in the middle of the map. “Or maybe I should say was, because the one we’re standing in was built well after Griffith was in charge and this map was made. But there was a building here, at least. You’ll notice that the map shows mainly the roads and things like lakes. The houses are kind of sketched in, if they’re there at all. Anyway, your lane ends right here, at the next farm. And you know that road at the bottom of the hill, to the east?” When Maura nodded, Ciara said, “It wasn’t there when this map was laid out. Some people still call it the ‘New Road’ or the “Bog Road,’ although it’s been there for more than a century. Or so I’ve read.”