Scandal in Skibbereen (A County Cork Mystery) Read online

  Mick was shooing the last patrons out the door at closing time when Maura saw Althea come in, looking drained. Long gone was the New York fashionista she’d been only a week earlier. Mick arched an eyebrow at Maura, and Maura mouthed, “It’s okay.” Mick took one last look around the room, then went out, closing the door behind him. His day was over.

  Althea approached the bar tentatively. “Am I welcome here?”

  “Sure. You want something to drink?”

  “Isn’t it past closing time? I don’t want to risk breaking any more Irish laws than I already have.”

  “I can offer a drink to a friend, if I like.”

  “Thank you. For the ‘friend’ part, I mean. I’ll take a Jameson’s, if you have it. Will you have one with me?”

  Maura found two clean glasses and poured. She slid them across the bar, then came around to sit on the stool next to Althea’s. “So the guards didn’t hold you?”

  “No. It took me this long to talk my way out of there, but you were right. That detective is a fair man, and a thorough one. I’m glad he believed me in the end. I’m not a criminal, just stupid.”

  Maura didn’t contradict her. She sipped her whiskey—not her favorite drink, but she had to admit this one was smooth. “And Nate?”

  “That’s a little more complicated. The police aren’t very happy with him, mostly because he concealed a lot of things, and there were consequences. They may keep him around for a while.”

  “Do you believe he had anything to do with Seamus’s death?”

  Althea shook her head. “Not beyond bringing that Jersey goon here. Nate’s an idiot, but I’m glad Ray isn’t dead—that would have been a real mess. And I wouldn’t want to think I’d killed someone, even by accident.”

  They sat in silence for a minute or two. Finally Althea said, “Maura, I’m really here to apologize. You’ve been great about trying to help me, and all I’ve done is complain and make demands. You and Gillian both—you tried to tell me to dial it back, and I didn’t want to hear it.”

  “You had a lot at stake,” Maura said carefully.

  “Sure, I thought finding that painting was important, but I’ve realized I was only thinking of myself. I never stopped to think that looking for it and finding it would involve so many other people’s lives. I never thought anyone would die because of it.”

  Maura sneaked a glance at her. Were those tears in Althea’s eyes? “What are you going to do now?”

  “I . . . don’t know. I mean, I—no, we found the painting and it’s everything I hoped it would be, and it’s a terrific story, but . . .”

  “What?”

  “I don’t feel right using that for my own ends. Not after all that’s happened.”

  “You go public with the story, and it’s worth more. You told me that,” Maura pointed out.

  “I know. But . . . I guess it’s not as important to me to get it into that exhibit and to have my moment of glory as it was when I started. I can still work to get the word out, so that Eveline and Harry will benefit. Somebody in the world—and I’d like to hope it’s a museum rather than a private collector who’ll hide it away for another century—will get an incredible painting. But I don’t want to profit from something that caused someone’s death.”

  “Why, Althea, I do believe you’ve grown a conscience!” Maura said, smiling.

  Althea looked at her then and returned the smile. “Ya think?” They clinked glasses. Then Althea went on, “You know, I should spend more time talking with you. I mean, you’ve got to have a story, right? You can’t have had an easy life, growing up in South Boston, losing your family, not a lot of opportunities. And here you are, where you never expected to be, and it looks to me like you’re doing just fine. How did that happen?”

  “Ireland happened. I think you’ve seen some of that. Time seems slower here. People are willing to help you, if you’ll give them a chance. I’ve got deep roots here, ones I never knew I had. I’m still trying to figure out how and where I fit, but it’s a good place to be.”

  “Maybe I should stick around a while longer, or come back after the exhibit opens. I wonder if Harry would let me inventory his collection of paintings. At least then he’d know what he’s got. Maybe I could bring Dorothy and her father over and introduce them to the rest of the family. And I could still help Gillian place some of her paintings where they’ll get more attention. She really does have talent.”

  “All good ideas, but it’s up to you. I’ve got enough on my hands here without trying to manage your life.”

  “You couldn’t do worse than I have lately!” Althea laughed. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for everything. I guess I’d better get back to the hotel—I’m exhausted.”

  “Slán abhaile,” Maura said. When Althea looked blankly at her she said, “That means ‘safe home’ in Irish.”

  “Ah. Well, thanks again.”

  Maura watched her go, to make sure she got safely to her car. She did and drove off, leaving Maura alone in Sullivan’s.

  Chalk up one more victory for Ireland, Maura thought. Funny how the place changed people.