Tied Up with a Bow Read online

  After Sean had left, Maura checked the time. How long had Mick and Hannah been gone? Danny came in from the back bar and said, “I’ve done with the sweepin’. Is there anythin’ else I should be doin’?”

  Rose spoke up quickly. “I’m setting out the crisps and such for today, back in the kitchen. I could use some help, if yeh’re willin’.”

  “Okay,” Danny said cheerfully, and followed her into the kitchen.

  Hannah and Mick returned a few minutes later laden with a few shopping bags. “We thought we’d just bring the lot of it back, not that there was much,” Mick said. “We’ll sort out where they’ll be stayin’ later.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Maura replied. “We’ve the room, in any case.”

  “Where’s Danny?” Hannah asked.

  “He’s in the kitchen helping Rose. Go on back. I don’t know what she’s bought or how much. She’s getting it ready now.”

  After Hannah had disappeared, Maura turned to Mick and said quickly, “Sean stopped by. Our man Jack has an outstanding warrant, or whatever it is in Ireland, and he can be arrested if he shows his face. But nobody’s found him yet. He won’t make trouble at the unveiling, will he?”

  “Sean’ll be here, right?”

  “Yeah, he’s directing traffic.”

  “Then we’re good until he has to go.”

  And then? Maura wondered. But she had no answer.

  Maura knew that the church service had started at noon, and would probably be over by one thirty, allowing time for greeting and chatting. Sean arrived at one and parked his car in a visible place in front of Sullivan’s. The construction workers were gathered around the base of Thing, still joking and talking with each other and with some of the crowd. Maura also spotted Seamus and two or three of his drinking buddies near the front of the crowd.

  She and Rose had sorted through the entries from the jar and bundled them by the guess. The suggestions were funny, most of the time: there was no way Thing, draped in tarps, could be a Christmas tree, given the overall shape, and it seemed unlikely that it could be Father Christmas in a sleigh. If there were local holiday customs, Maura didn’t know about them.

  “What do we do if nobody guesses right?” Maura asked Rose.

  “We use our imaginations. Say, a dog could be a reindeer who’s lost his horns, or the like.”

  “I’ll let you handle that. How much money did we bring in?”

  “At least fifty euros, which should make a nice donation. Someone will be happy.”

  “Should we go out?”

  “Will Mick be covering the bar?”

  “He said he would. I think Hannah’s going to help out at the inn—she doesn’t feel safe out here in the open.”

  “And Danny?”

  “He told me he was going to stay inside to look after his mam. Sweet boy, isn’t he?”

  “He is. Then let’s go.”

  Rose stuffed the raffle slips into her bag, and they pulled on their coats and headed across the road. As they passed Sean, Maura asked, “Anything new?”

  He shook his head while urging a slow driver forward. Maura and Rose kept going and joined the guys clustered around the bottom of Thing. A light wind rattled the plastic coverings, almost as though the sculpture was about to hatch. The workmen plus Seamus and pals looked awfully pleased with themselves. Did they have something planned? Maura wondered.

  By quarter to two the intersection was jammed, and traffic was reduced to one lane. Sean was keeping busy trying to keep the cars moving. He signaled to the builders to move things along.

  Paddy stepped forward. “On behalf of the Cork County Council, we are pleased to introduce to you this year’s holiday sculpture.” At his cue, the rest of the men began to cut the ropes that held the tarps in place, peeling off sections from the top down. It took a few minutes to reveal the creature beneath, and its head and body emerged, as if from a very large and lumpy egg. The crowd waited expectantly. There were children in the front row, closest to the sculpture, and they were bouncing up and down with excitement.

  The last part of the cover fell away from the sculpture, and there was a round of clapping, cheers and whistles—which faded quickly. Maura caught Seamus’s eye, and she could have sworn he winked at her. She wormed her way to the edge of the crowd on one side and realized what had silenced the crowd.

  At the base of the sculpture there was a man, bound up with layers of blankets, red and green, and topped off with a giant bow, made of ribbon that had to be a foot wide. He was very much alive, twisting and kicking, and he looked mad as hell. With a start Maura realized she recognized him: Jack Barry. She looked at Seamus to see him grinning at her. The crowd noise was too loud to make herself heard, but she made a thumbs-up gesture to Seamus. Then she turned and skirted the crowd to find Sean, in the middle of the road.

  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the traffic.

  “Thing here has brought us a holiday gift: Jack Barry. He’s all tied up and ready to go. I’m thinking Seamus might have had something to do with that, but Jack’s in fine shape, though he looks like he wants to spit nails. Maybe you should do something official about him.”

  Sean scanned the street: it looked like the church traffic had all gone home, and the rest of the crowd wasn’t about to go anywhere soon. “I’ll handle it. Him. Thanks, Maura.”

  Maura watched as Sean strode over to the waiting men under Thing. No, it wasn’t Thing anymore. It was a . . . dragon? She’d never heard of a Christmas dragon, but this was certainly a handsome creature. She turned to go back to Sullivan’s and realized she was smiling.

  Business was great for the rest of the afternoon, even though there were those who had a full dinner waiting at home for them. Most of the spectators had little idea what had happened, much less understood the backstory. Who was that man under the dragon, and why had he been all tied up? With a bow, no less? Maura struggled to answer what questions she could without giving too much away, which might mess up Sean’s handling of the man. Hannah had stayed behind at Sullivan’s. Apparently she had told Sean all she could, and he’d filled in some of the blanks with the help of his Dublin colleagues. And Hannah’s sister? Maura had questions of her own, but at least she knew the basic outlines. Jack Barry had been caught, and there was a warrant out for his arrest, and that should put him safely in jail again.

  Seamus came in an hour or so later. He made a grand entrance shaking hands with friends and strangers alike. Apparently he had told some people some things, but they knew enough to keep their mouths shut. When he finally made it to the bar, Maura had his pint waiting for him.

  “So, who’s the lucky winner?” Seamus asked, after his first long swallow.

  “Oh, good heavens, I forgot all about that. I might have been a bit distracted. Rose, you have the slips?”

  “I do.” She reached under the bar, pulled out her bag, and extracted the stacks of entries. She handed the bundle to Maura, who shuffled through them—and found herself smiling again. She turned toward the noisy crowd in the pub. “I’m going to guess a few of you had enjoyed more than one pint when you put in your guesses. Among the less crazy ones are a horse, an elephant, and a very large Father Christmas carrying an even larger bag of gifts. Close, but not quite right, although whoever it was nailed the gift part.” Seamus grinned again but said nothing.

  “So who’s the winner?” someone at the back yelled.

  “I’m happy to say that the winner is . . . Danny Barry, who guessed it was a sea monster. That’s as close as anybody came. Danny, you here somewhere?” Maura called out.

  A minute later Danny emerged from the back room, followed by Hannah. “What’s wrong?” she said.

  “Not a thing.” Maura knelt in front of Danny. “You are the winner of the first ever Sullivan’s Holiday Name the Thing raffle.”

  “Really? It’s a sea monster?”

  “Close enough. It’s a dragon, and nobody else guessed it.”

  “Wow,
” he said. “Did I win enough to pay fer a place fer me mam and me to live?”

  “I think it’ll be enough to get the two of you settled.”

  When Maura stood, Hannah caught her eye and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Books by Sheila Connolly

  Orchard Mysteries

  One Bad Apple

  Rotten to the Core

  Red Delicious Death

  A Killer Crop

  Bitter Harvest

  Sour Apples

  “Called Home”

  Golden Malicious

  Picked to Die

  A Gala Event

  Seeds of Deception

  A Late Frost

  Nipped in the Bud

  Museum Mysteries

  Fundraising the Dead

  Let’s Play Dead

  Fire Engine Dead

  “Dead Letters”

  Monument to the Dead

  Razing the Dead

  Privy to the Dead

  Dead End Street

  Victorian Village Mysteries

  Murder at the Mansion

  County Cork Mysteries

  Buried in a Bog

  Scandal in Skibbereen

  An Early Wake

  A Turn for the Bad

  Cruel Winter

  Many a Twist

  “Tied Up with a Bow”

  Relatively Dead Mysteries

  Relatively Dead

  Seeing the Dead

  Defending the Dead

  Watch for the Dead

  Search for the Dead

  Revealing the Dead

  Glassblowing Mysteries

  (Writing as Sarah Atwell)

  Through a Glass, Deadly

  Pane of Death

  Snake in the Glass

  Also Available

  Reunion with Death

  Once She Knew

  About the Author

  After collecting too many degrees and exploring careers ranging from art historian to investment banker to professional genealogist, Sheila Connolly began writing mysteries in 2001 and is now a full-time writer.

  She wrote her first mystery series for Berkley Prime Crime under the name Sarah Atwell, and the first book, Through a Glass, Deadly, was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Novel.

  Under her own name, her Orchard Mystery Series debuted with One Bad Apple and has been followed by twelve more books in the series.

  Her Museum Mysteries, set in the Philadelphia museum community, opened with Fundraising the Dead and continued with seven more books.

  Her County Cork Mysteries debuted with Buried in a Bog, followed by five more novels.

  She has also published numerous original ebooks with Beyond the Page: Sour Apples, Once She Knew, The Rising of the Moon, Reunion with Death, Under the Hill, Relatively Dead, Seeing the Dead, Defending the Dead, Watch for the Dead, Search for the Dead, and Revealing the Dead.

  Sheila is a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and Romance Writers of America. She is a former President of Sisters in Crime New England, and was cochair for the 2011 New England Crime Bake conference.