Upstairs in his room, he checked his e-mail. He had received information from the home office. He went through everything that they’d been able to pull on Michael and Aidan Karney, Siobhan McFarley, Dr. Kirkland, Sheriff Murphy, Allen Fitzhugh, and Gary Duffy.
Sheriff Murphy had a wonderful record. He’d been a police officer in Dublin with dozens of commendations before coming home to Karney to take on the role of sheriff.
Dr. Kirkland had once had a run-in with the law; charges had been dropped. He’d been soliciting a prostitute. That didn’t make him a killer. But, it was interesting.
There were no police records of any kind on the others.
But, there was an interesting notation.
Aidan Karney had made a charge in the village—at the local pharmacy.
He had done so on the day before Collum Karney had died.
* * * *
Devin jumped up with a cry of delight when she saw the tiny blonde visitor enter Brendan Karney’s hospital room.
In doing so, she woke Seamus and Kelly, who had been dozing in other chairs.
“Kat!” she said.
“Hey! A trip to Ireland, a bit unexpectedly,” Kat said, greeting Devin with a hug. Devin quickly turned to introduce her to Brendan and Kelly.
“She’s another of your team?” Seamus asked, perplexed, most probably because Kat didn’t look ferocious in the least.
“Trust me, she’s hell at a shooting range,” Devin said, laughing. “And she can fathom any secret from the dead,” she added.
Kat nodded, looking at Seamus. “Sir, we need your signature. We’ve set the wheels in motion. I can perform an autopsy tomorrow, with your permission.”
“Tomorrow? Oh, no. Nothing happens like that on St. Patrick’s Day!” Seamus said.
“It does when the right people are involved,” Kat said softly. “And I think, with the information we’ve been given, that it’s imperative we have your brother out of the ground as quickly as possible.”
Seamus looked at his daughter and nodded.
“Anything you need,” he told her.
“For now,” Kat said, “I’m here to spell you, Devin. Will is with Rocky at the castle. They’re expecting you back.”
“Great,” Devin said. She looked at her Uncle Seamus and Kelly. “Do either of you want to come with me?” she asked.
Kelly shook her head, looking at her father.
“We’d like to see him gain consciousness,” Kelly said.
“Of course.” Devin smiled and glanced toward Kat. “You’ll be safe,” she promised.
“Trust me—deadly things come in small packages,” Kat promised them.
“Of course. We’ll be fine—we’d have been fine on our own,” Seamus said sternly, looking at his daughter.
“There’s nothing like safety in numbers,” Devin said cheerfully. “All right then—I’ll be in touch!”
She left the hospital and headed back toward the castle.
As she came upon the church, she paused again. She wasn’t sure why; she didn’t intend to linger.
She felt the urge to go back to the Karney family vault.
She parked and headed into the graveyard. A bit of a distance from the vault, she paused.
It was like many such a vault in old Irish cemeteries and graveyards where the rocky terrain led to hillocks and cliffs and caverns. It was built right into the side of a rock-covered rise.
She stared at it a moment, but couldn’t put her finger on the reason why the placement seemed so curious.
With a shrug, she moved toward it.
She saw that Father Flannery had apparently seen to it that the gate was now locked. But, holding the lock, she saw that it hadn’t snapped. She twisted it to the open angle and walked in.
She felt nothing; saw no shadows. But she moved inward.
As she went deeper into the vault, marble slabs no longer covered the shelves that held the dead. A few wooden covers, Victorian era, perhaps, were decaying. Further back, there were shrouded mummies.
She stopped when she reached them; there was no light back there.
For a moment, despite the smell of the earth and decay, she paused, listening—trying to feel for any presence.
But there was nothing and she turned back.
Before she stepped back out of the vault, she paused. Someone was walking across the graveyard, head down, footsteps hurried.
It wasn’t Father Flannery.
She ducked back inside, still watching.
It was Aidan Karney. He kept coming.
Devin shrank back into the vault, heading behind the tombs of Declan and Brianna and sinking low.
Aidan came into the vault. He stood there, letting his eyes adjust.
Aidan had been smart enough to come with a flashlight. He played it over the tomb.
Devin stayed low.
Aidan let out a sound of impatience and disgust.
He turned around and left the vault.
Devin waited. And waited.
She realized that he would have seen her rental car.
But, when she carefully emerged at last, he was nowhere to be seen.
She hurried back to the car and drove on to the castle.
When she arrived, activities around the courtyard were already in full swing. She saw that Father Flannery was on the stage by the western wall, surrounded by musicians. He announced that they were praying for Brendan Karney, who was holding his own. Then he announced the St. Patrick’s of the Village band and singers and stepped aside, leading the audience in applause.
The band and singers began a beautiful version of Danny Boy.
She continued on into the castle.
No one was in the great hall and Devin walked up to the master’s chambers. She found a note from Rocky telling her to head on down to the crypt via the tower stairs and follow the instructions on the note.
She knew the crypt and the dungeons, of course. She’d been awed and amazed when she’d come as a teenager.
The foundations of the castle were vast. They held a scent that wasn’t exactly bad, and wasn’t exactly rot. But the sea roiled near the castle and deep in the ground, everything smelled verdantly of the earth.
The main room, beneath the great hall, had once had cells where prisoners were held.
A few of the barred cells remained.
There was also a display of torture instruments used throughout the centuries. There were thumbscrews, brands, pinchers, an Iron Maiden, a rack, and all manner of chains and shackles.
There were creepy, bad mannequins on the rack, in the Iron Maiden, and held to the wall by chains.
There were, however, electric lights and when they were turned on—as they were now—the mannequins simply displayed a lack of talent in their creation.
And yet Devin felt oddly as if they were watching her.
“Stop it!” she told one, shaking her head as she walked by.
“Rocky? Will?” she called.
For a moment, she thought that no one was going to answer her.
“This way!”
Rocky’s voice urged her toward the crypts. She walked in that direction.
Here, there were no mannequins.
There were coffins—and there were the mummies of the very ancient still aligned on their eternal beds of wood and stone.
There were only a few lights strung overhead; they weaved with heavy movement from above casting weird shadows over the bones and shrouds of the long, long dead of Karney Castle.
But Rocky was there, hurrying out to greet her with something like enthusiasm.
“We’ve found places where the dust has definitely been disturbed. Someone has been down here with some kind of a device. Also, it looks like they were dragging something heavy, or something with a train of fabric. But, it all disappears into the crypt and we can’t figure out if they were perhaps coming and going through the pub—or what?”
Will Chan came walking out behind Rocky.
“Hey, newlyw
ed,” he teased, coming forward to greet her with a hug.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” she told him.
“Not a problem,” he told her. “Here’s the thing so far. I believe—as Rocky suggested—that the sound that filled the castle came from here. You could create an amazing wail that reverberated through the stone with a simple amplifier. As far as actually appearing in the master’s chambers, easy enough as well. The dumbwaiter rises and falls from just above. Someone has definitely been on the stairs. The problem we’re having is determining where the someone is coming from or going to, as they must have had a way out of here for them and all that they used.”
“They might have just walked out of the great hall,” Devin said.
“But, at that time of night? Do they lock the great hall itself?”
“They do. When the pub closes, everything is supposedly locked,” Devin said.
“Would that suggest a pub employee?” Will asked.
“Maybe. But, why? No pub employee stands to gain if the Karney family goes down,” Devin said.
“Maybe they’re full of information anyway,” Will said.
“Are you suggesting a late lunch?” Rocky asked him.
“Not a bad idea.”
“What about Aidan Karney?” Devin asked.
“Aidan,” Rocky said. He glanced at Will and asked her, “Why?”
“He came into the vault,” Devin said.
Rocky stared at her hard. “I stopped again on my way back from the hospital.”
“You shouldn’t be doing that alone,” Rocky said firmly.
“You really shouldn’t be,” Will agreed.
“Aidan never saw me,” she said.
“What did he do there?” Rocky asked.
“Turned on a flashlight, made a noise, and left. Why?” she asked.
“Because he’s a liar,” Rocky told her. “He claimed he hadn’t been here in ages before he came for Collum’s funeral. He used his charge card in the village the day before Collum died.”
“So, we have a real suspect,” Will said. “What we need to do is keep a sharp eye on him.”
“Watch,” Rocky agreed. “Pretend we know even less than we do—and watch. If the killer is going by that prophecy thing, he’s going to be in a hurry. We may well catch him in the act.”
Rocky’s phone rang. He tried to answer it; the signal couldn’t penetrate the depth of the castle and the call went dead.
“We’ll head up,” he said.
The great hall was still empty when they emerged.
The call had come from Kat.
Rocky quickly called her back. Will and Devin watched him as he spoke. He hung up and told them, “No time for lunch. Whoever it is that Adam Harrison knows in Ireland wields some real power. Will, if you don’t mind, I’ll have you go to the hospital and keep watch over Brendan. Devin, you and I need to head to the graveyard; the sheriff and graveyard employees will meet us there along with county officials. Kat can start on her autopsy tonight. Collum Karney is about to leave the vault.”
Chapter 12
It was sad to be at a funeral; to watch a coffin lowered into the ground or set into a shelf in a mausoleum or vault.
Sad to see flowers cast upon a coffin.
Somehow, it was just as sad to see the proceedings when Collum’s coffin was removed.
The sound of the marble being split from the shelf seemed grating. Watching the men heave the coffin out and onto the stretcher was just as disturbing. Devin realized that she was associated with the family and that made it worse.
It was very solemn.
Father Flannery was there, saying prayers. Other than his words, the whole day seemed silent.
Many of those who would have been celebrating the day before St. Patrick’s Day had gathered at a distance to watch as well. Whispers and rumors were running rampant, Devin was certain.
In the midst of it, Dr. Kirkland arrived, striding across the graveyard, avoiding Celtic crosses and stepping heedlessly on gravestones.
“What is the meaning of this? Why wasn’t I consulted?” he demanded.
Sheriff Murphy stepped forward. “Sorry, Kirkland. Orders came down from the county; an autopsy is happening.”
“What? You’re going to find proof that a banshee killed the man?” Kirkland demanded. He saw Rocky and Devin standing near and turned his wrath on them. “Who do you think you are? How dare you come here assuming your methods and means are superior and that we’re all a pack of superstitious idiots? This will not be the last of this, not by a long shot, no indeed!”
He stormed off. Rocky and Devin looked at one another.
“Another suspect?” Rocky asked softly.
“Why?” Devin asked.
“The million dollar question,” Rocky murmured. “Come on; the coffin is in the ambulance. We’ll follow it to the county morgue—into Kat’s hands.”
They did. Kat greeted them there and assured them that Will was watching over Brendan, Seamus, and Kelly.
It had grown late. With the body safely in her hands and Kat and the county examiner ready to work, the two of them left, returning to the castle.
They were exhausted and famished and headed to the pub. Allen was behind the bar; Siobhan was working the floor. She seemed not irritable, but distracted that night.
“All this going on—it gives the body a chill, that’s a fact!” she told them. “And, of course, with St. Patrick’s tomorrow, it’s like a zoo here, people squawking for this and that and not a wee bit of manners among them!”
“We’ll get our drinks from Allen,” Rocky assured her.
“Aye, and thank you on that!” Siobhan said.
Rocky and Devin went to the bar. Allen was harried as well; he still managed to pour a perfect pair of pints for them.
“If you need help, I can hop back there with you,” Rocky offered.
Allen gave him a grin. “I may call on you. We’re really moving. Believe it or not, several of the vendors ran out of beer. That’s—that’s sacrilege in Ireland!”
“Call me if you need me,” Rocky told him.
“Ah, but you’re a lawman,” Allen said.
“I had lots of jobs before I became one,” Rocky assured him.
Allen grinned. Rocky and Devin returned to their table.
Devin had purposely chosen a booth in the old chapel section.
“We were right beneath here today,” she told Rocky. She leaned closer to him. “There has to be a hiding spot we don’t know. Either it is someone who belongs at the castle and has a room here—like Allen—or it’s someone who knows where to put things out of sight. And not in the crypt, as one might think.”
“I believe that whatever is being used actually leaves the castle walls,” Rocky said. “But, how? That’s the question!”
“I’m sure we can find an answer,” Devin told him. “So many vendors have come and gone—maybe they’re using a vendor?”
Their food came and they ate. Rocky had just taken his last bite when Siobhan stopped by the table. “Allen says that if you’re certain you don’t mind, he’d love some help behind the bar,” she said.
“All right, then,” Rocky said, rising. He looked at Devin.
She smiled. “I’m fine. I’ll be thinking—and watching.” And she would be. She’d noted that Michael and Aidan had just come into the bar. Aidan seemed distracted. Michael was calm and collected.
Rocky went behind the bar. Devin pulled out her phone and pretended to give it her attention.
She watched Aidan. He seemed dejected. But, as she watched him, she felt that she was drawn to watch Siobhan again. Every time the waitress came into the chapel area, she seemed distracted.
“What bothers you here?” Devin asked her, catching her when she would have hurried by.
Siobhan crossed herself. “We’re over the dead!” she told her.
She didn’t get a chance to say more. She dropped the heavy glass beer mug she had been carrying as sound suddenly ripped throug
h the castle.
The great clock was beginning to chime the midnight hour.
And along with it had come another sound.
The banshee’s wail. The same sound they had heard just a night ago.
Rocky looked her way. He leapt over the bar and went racing out of the pub toward the center tower.
Devin jumped to her feet, as well, to follow him.
Yet, even as she reached the great hall, she saw that Michael was following Rocky—and Aidan was following him.
But Aidan suddenly stopped and headed out the main doors.
Devin stood for just a moment’s indecision.
Then, she followed Aidan.
* * * *
Rocky swore, ruing the fact that they’d actually managed to get Collum to autopsy that day.
Kat would have still been with Seamus and Kelly, and Will would have been with him.
But, as he tore past the velvet chain, jerked open the door and ran down the steps, he realized that the sound was already gone.
When he flicked on the light and reached the dungeon, it was empty.
There was something there, though. Someone had been there. Someone had just been there! He could sense it—feel it!
There was a noise behind him and he spun around. Devin?
No.
It was Michael Karney.
Karney looked at him impatiently and started on through to the crypts.
“Dammit!” he swore.
He turned in the shadows there and looked at Rocky. “Someone comes here. I know they come here.”
To Rocky’s surprise, Michael suddenly turned, pushing at the shroud and bones of a long dead ancestor. “There’s got to be something—some way that they’re escaping. And whoever it is, they’ll get to Brendan, Seamus—then Kelly, and then me!”
Rocky set his hands on the man’s shoulders. “They didn’t go that way—and you’re now covered in bone dust. That way is foundation wall—it has to be something else. Some other way. The other steps are here—the steps down to the crypt from the old chapel.”
“We would have seen them—the pub was full,” Michael said irritably.
“Then we have to take it slowly, carefully, and methodically,” Rocky said. He sighed.
There had to be something somewhere. A tunnel—and escape. But where?