Chapter 9

Mark knew a great deal about not just Irish history but world history. He regaled Angela with tales about the United States, giving her little-known facts about the Revolution, the War of 1812, the Civil War, and more. Which was impressive, because she knew a lot of history, herself.

Listening to him made for a nice afternoon. Nellie checked on them all and offered them little potpies for lunch. They spent some time with her at the dining room table, as well as Elizabeth and Stewart when they emerged.

It all seemed congenial and pleasant.

They didn’t bring up the murder, other than when Angela informed them all that Jackson and Angus were off following a lead that might be nothing.

After lunch, she excused herself and stepped out into the courtyard, wondering if the banshee might appear during the daytime.

But she wasn’t there.

When Angela returned to the entertainment room, she discovered that Moira and Mark were no longer there. Trying not to feel panicky, she called Moira’s phone, half-expecting her cousin not to answer.

But she did.

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m with Mark. We’re in my room.”

“Moira…”

“Here. Talk to him,” Moira said. The next thing Angela heard was Mark’s voice.

“I swear to you, Angela, on everything that’s holy, I would rather die than harm Moira. I’m innocent, and you know we’re together. If anything were to happen to her now, you’d arrest me on the spot. We’re good, I promise,” Mark said.

“Not to mention we’re over twenty-one and able to do as we please, so lay off,” Moira called. “Wait. I didn’t mean that. Please, don’t get mad at me. I want you here. We need you here. I’m just stressed.”

“It’s okay,” Angela said. “Just know I’ll be right next door. I’m going to get back on my computer there,” she told them.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, and she only stared at the blank screen for several minutes. All right, they’d followed some good leads. Of course, the couple might plead their innocence, and they might be looking at only circumstantial evidence right now, but given what they did have, it looked like the Millers were guilty.

“Why?” she murmured out loud. She winced, knowing her cousin was in the next room with a man who had accumulated wealth and could afford the castle if she were to sell. But…

Moira had admitted to her—and possibly him—that she was in love with him. So, logically, he could marry her and get it that way. And if he wasn’t in love, he could take his time and rid himself of her.

But Angela didn’t believe that. She wasn’t perfect, but she was usually good at reading people.

So…

She wrote a page to herself about all those involved with the castle.

Stewart and Elizabeth McKenna and their son, Daniel.

Nellie Antrim.

Lock-Stone Security. The people who manned the gatehouse. But unlike Stewart and Nellie, they hadn’t been here forever. And they were just paid for a nice, cushy gig.

Still…

She put down Lock-Stone. After she did, she looked up the company. It was small. There were only four employees, Sam Hall, the man they knew; Oscar Murphy, Elijah Blake, and Brian Carson, the manager. The company had taken a few other jobs and received five-star write-ups from old customers.

She wondered who owned the company and started to dig to find out. She had just begun her search when she received Jackson’s call.

“What happened? Did they admit anything? Did they talk?” she asked.

“No. They couldn’t talk. The good doctor and professor are dead. Their bodies are on the way to the morgue.”

“No.” She put a hand to her mouth. “You don’t think they were killed by—?”

“Two of the missing transdermal patches were here,” Jackson said. “This time, the killer didn’t even remove them.”

“And it wasn’t done by choice?”

“You really think those two would have taken their lives? I sure as hell don’t,” Jackson said. “Angela, be careful. We’re on our way back. There are still two of those little patches out there. It’s likely the Millers managed to get that patch onto Mrs. Robertson, but whoever is pulling the strings probably knew the Millers would get caught and feared they might spill everything. You need to be extremely careful. Someone at that castle murdered the Millers.”

* * * *

They weren’t far out, but by the time all the proper authorities had arrived, putting two branches of the Irish police with forensics and the medical examiner, Jackson was more than antsy.

He was nearly in a panic to get back to Angela.

He reminded himself again that she was a competent and capable agent. She could kick ass.

But neither her prowess with a gun nor her many talents in martial arts would be of any use if someone just sidled by and…

And set one of the lethal patches on her skin.

Won’t happen. Wouldn’t happen so fast. If anyone at the castle is guilty, they won’t dare kill again today. It would be too obvious. And with so few people…

Finally, he and Angus were back in the car. It seemed obvious the inspector was an empathetic man since he glanced at Jackson and maneuvered the vehicle with speed and skill, not trying to talk much until they were halfway there.

“Who?” he demanded. “Who? And why? I don’t begin to understand.”

“Someone really wants that castle,” Jackson surmised.

“Then why not just kill Moira?” Angus asked.

“Too obvious?” Jackson suggested. He shook his head. “To make her miserable enough that she’d be ready to…?”

“Sell out cheaply?”

Jackson shrugged. “Well, we have people digging into financials. But…”

“I’m lost. How did someone at the castle enlist the Miller couple to find a kid going to Brazil, manage to get the lab broken into, and then kill a random tourist?”

“Long-term planning, I imagine,” Jackson said. “When did Colleen die?” he asked.

“About a year and a half ago,” Angus told him.

“Maybe this has been in the works since,” Jackson said. He leaned against the seat. “Five transdermal patches. The murderer hoped to get away with the first death being ruled natural. Then…”

“Something else was supposed to happen to someone else. When it did, Moira would be so distraught she would just want out,” Angus finished. He was smiling grimly. “Whoever it is doesn’t know Moira. She won’t give up on her Granny’s dream that easily.”

“No, she’s not the kind to give up,” Jackson agreed. He looked over at McCray. “We need to figure this out now.”

“Of course, we do,” Angus agreed.

“No. I mean right now. As in tonight.”

“And how…?”

“I have a plan,” Jackson assured him.

When they neared the castle, he put a call through to Angela.

She could get the ball rolling.

* * * *

Ending her call with Jackson, Angela hesitated for just a minute. She thought about knocking on her cousin’s door but opted to call instead.

Moira answered right away.

“We’ll celebrate tonight,” Angela said.

“What? They found out what happened to Mrs. Robertson?”

“They were on their way to arrest Doctor and Professor Miller when they found the two of them dead. They must have known the police were closing in. They killed themselves,” Angela said.

Angela felt horrible lying to Moira.

But she needed to lie to them all if they were to execute Jackson’s plan.

She heard Moira’s joyous cry as she told Mark about the call and that the killers had been caught.

“I’m going to get downstairs and tell Nellie, Stewart, and Elizabeth. And…well, I’m sure Nellie has dinner planned already, but it will be a real celebration. I’ll bet she has some champagne on the premises. It’s time to drink it,” Angela said cheerfully.

“We’ll be down soon,” Moira promised.

Angela hurried downstairs, racing into the kitchen to find Nellie.

“Hey,” she said happily.

“Hello,” Nellie replied. “Ye look so happy, lass.”

“I am. The killers were caught. God knows why, but the Millers killed Mrs. Robertson. Anyway, tonight, you will join us at the table. We’ll all help you get everything out, and we’ll all clean up, but after some delicious champagne. I’m hoping we have some.”

“Aye, we do. We do.” Nellie nodded. “Oh, wonder of wonders. Thankfully, you and your hubby were here, lassie.”

Angela smiled. “Off to tell Stewart and Elizabeth.”

“Our meal will be ready in an hour,” Nellie said.

“Perfect. We’ll be here to help in thirty minutes,” Angela promised.

She raced back up the stairs, tapping on the McKenna’s door.

Stewart opened it, and Angela saw he’d been doing homework with his son.

“Celebration,” she said.

“What?” Stewart asked.

“It’s celebration time. The inspector and Jackson found the Millers dead—by their own patches. We don’t know why yet, but they killed Mrs. Robertson. They likely knew they were going to be caught and offed themselves.” Angela hated using death by suicide as an excuse, especially added to a lie. “Oh, that doesn’t sound good for a celebration, does it? But…well, the killers are gone, and business can go back to normal. That’s something to celebrate.”

“It’s all wonderful,” Stewart said but winced. “Well, the whole thing is horrible , but at least it’s solved.”

“Nellie said to be down in an hour,” Angela told him.

“I’ll get down there and help serve—”

“Not to worry tonight. Jackson and I will take care of it,” she promised. Angela saw Daniel watching her and felt her stomach tighten. “I didn’t even think. Daniel may be a bit young for the champagne.”

“We’ll give our lad a wee sip,” Stewart said happily.

Angela smiled and hurried down the hall, anxious to get back downstairs. When she arrived in the kitchen, she discovered Angus and Jackson were already there.

“We’re kitchen help,” Angus said.

“And good at it, mind you,” Jackson told her.

Their gazes met, and Nellie beamed. “Grab the covered dishes there, me fine lads. We’ll get this party moving.”

Angela glanced at the inspector, fully aware he knew about Jackson’s plan to bring them all together and put a few ideas to the test.

McCray could have been an actor , she thought. But then someone else in this house would have been great on stage, too.

Because more had been discovered during the forensic accounting, and Jackson had a real suspect in mind.

Angela hadn’t had much of a chance to dig, but apparently, Bruce had looked in the right place.

The chatter as they all worked to set the dining table in splendor was fun and lively. Of course, they knew not to get close to anyone.

Because two of those little patches were still out there.

Soon enough, the table was set.

“Did you call Sam?” Angela asked Nellie. “He’s been so wonderful. He should be here for this.”

“I called him, but he said he had plans. Told me he was extremely happy all was well, lass,” Nellie told her.

“Great.”

“All right. Let’s do this,” Moira cried, pouring champagne for the group. The McKenna family had opted for bubbling ginger ale for Daniel, but he, too, had a glass ready to raise.

“To all of you. My dear friends, family by all we have created, thank you for being by my side through so much that has been so horrible. Dear, dear friends, all seeking to make Granny’s dream come true. Nellie, Stewart, Elizabeth, Daniel. Thank you. And Mark, you’ve helped so much with your tours. And, of course, Inspector McCray. And last but never least, my American cousin, Angela Hawkins Crow, and Jackson. Thank you for finding the truth.”

“Here, here!” Jackson cried.

“Sláinte,” Angela toasted.

“Great. She’s turning Irish,” Stewart said.

They sat. They ate.

Chatted…

And then Jackson spoke. “Just one thing. I’m still so curious. Why would the Millers want to kill Mrs. Robertson? Stewart, did you know them? I understand you were in Georgia about nine months ago for a quickie vacation.”

“What?” Stewart said. “No, I—I have an American cousin in Savannah. I never met the Millers. I never met them at all, even here.”

He seemed truly lost.

“Just curious,” Jackson said lightly and laughed. “Our states aren’t that big, and I’m guessing you might think the castle should be yours.”

“Wait. What?” Stewart seemed truly perplexed. And angry.

“Ah, me good lad, quit with the nasties,” Nellie said. “I’ll be grabbin’ another bottle of champagne.”

She rose and started to walk by Stewart and Daniel—perhaps a little too close. There were still patches missing.

Nellie?

They could take no chances. Not with a kid’s life.

And just as the thought struck her, Angela heard it.

The cry of the banshee.

“No!” she screamed, standing up and causing everyone to freeze.

Even Jackson stared at her.

But Moira didn’t. She’d heard it, too.

Nellie? The sweet and kind housekeeper? Fiftyish, small…

“Back off. Get away from him, Nellie,” Angela cried.

But even as the housekeeper stared at her, there was a whoosh of movement, and Sam Hall was suddenly there, pulling Daniel out of his chair and causing the boy to scream in terror.

“What a pain in the arse you people have proven to be,” Sam said, smiling wickedly as he showed them one of the patches he held just a half inch from the boy’s neck. “We’ll be leaving, Nellie, the boy, and me. And when we’re safe, I’ll let him go—”

“You and Nellie?” Moira said incredulously.

“What the bloody hell difference does it make now, ye’ve gone and destroyed it all!” Nellie shouted at him. “You didn’t ha’ ta give ‘em me name.”

“Nellie?” Moira repeated.

“The castle is mine. Mine, do you hear me? I’ve worked and cared for her forever. She’s mine. And don’t you go getting any ideas,” Nellie said. “I’ve a will, signed by yer granny herself, Miss Moira. I needed the right time—”

“No. No way,” Moira said. “My grandmother wanted Castle Darien to stay in the family. She believed I’d have children and it would stay in the family for generations. She loved you. She gave you all the time off you wanted. She got anything you needed. How could you? Oh, my God, You knew her handwriting. You forged a will.”

By then, Jackson was up, but Sam turned to shout at him. “Stay back, unless you want a dead kid on your hands.”

“Let it go. Let the castle go. Let anything go but my son,” Elizabeth cried.

“We have no intention of losing Daniel,” Jackson said. “Just do what you want. But leave the boy out of it. If you want to threaten someone, threaten me.”

“I’ll not be messing with a U.S. agent, but put your guns on the table. Now,” Sam ordered.

“Ye’ve ruined everything!” Nellie shouted again.

“Take me, then,” Angela said, moving closer to Sam.

“No. Take me,” Moira pleaded. “I’m the cause of all of this, or so it seems. Nellie has a will, and she forged Granny’s signature. She was good at it. She signed so many things for my grandmother through the years. Take me, Sam. I’m an actress. No hidden skills, no strength to punch you or take you by surprise and…and if you don’t get what you want…well, kill me, and the castle is up for grabs.”

“You have two patches,” Jackson said. “You can’t kill us all. Let the boy go. Take one of us.”

“No, the kid will be no trouble.”

“You let him go, and I’ll put my gun on the table,” Jackson said.

“Stupid Americans, always armed,” Sam muttered.

“This whole thing was a plan between you to get the castle. That’s why Nellie was always so nice to bring you food and tell you how things were going. And why you took on so many shifts at the castle. A strange, convoluted plan,” Angela said. “First, you drowned an elderly man. Then you saw a thief and figured it was a great opportunity. Then, to really throw Moira off, you killed a tourist. Make her inheritance seem cursed, right? Wow. But seriously, what a dumb plan.”

“Nothing dumb about it,” Sam snapped. “Nellie could keep me updated on what was happening here, and I managed the rest. She deserves this place. We’ll be married. I’d have the money to give poor Moira something. We’d have made the lord and lady of the castle functioning caretakers. It would have been ours,” Sam snapped.

“Sam, ye’re an idiot,” Nellie snapped. “We’d have made it if you hadn’t barged in—”

“Remember, Nellie. I have two patches,” Sam reminded her angrily. “In fact, at this point, old girl, you’re nothing but baggage. The boy and I are leaving.”

“What?” Nellie demanded. “Aye, we’re in a mess, we are. So, ye’d throw me to the wolves? You care nothing for me. You only want to be lord of the castle.”

“Shut up,” Sam roared but then sneered at Nellie. “I’d have taken care of you, too. In the end.”

“Bastard. A title would ne’er make ye a lord,” Nellie raged.

“Leave Daniel. Take me,” Moira cried.

By then, the banshee’s screeching was almost painful to Angela’s ears.

“She’s coming for someone,” Angela announced.

“Who?” Sam demanded.

“The banshee. You can’t hear her?” Angela asked.

Sam told them all what they could do with themselves and started backing out of the room, dragging the sobbing boy along with him.

“Don’t move,” he warned. “If you do, the kid will die.”

And then he was out, heading down the hallway with the screaming child.

Stewart started after him instantly, but Jackson caught him. “Wait! We must, we have to take him unawares. Please. Let Angela and I do this. For your son’s life.”

Stewart held back, sobbing. Jackson glanced at Angela, and they silently headed after the man who was dragging the child along.

Luckily, he didn’t close the Great Tower door completely. And when he moved, he headed toward the gate, which as their security guard, he could easily open.

But it was dark, and despite the outdoor lights and the waning moon, they could follow silently behind him on each side.

He stopped once and looked back.

Then, Angela decided to mimic the banshee, keeping well-hidden behind a bush and letting out her cry of distress.

The man heard her strange howling and froze for a minute. And then Angela saw her. The banshee.

The real banshee was there, ready to help them.

She moved toward Sam, floating above the ground in her cloud of darkness. Suddenly, she shouted, “See me, see me, see me, Samuel Hall!”

He might not have seen her, but he felt her, and it caused him to pause and look back, shivering, sensing the unseen danger. And as the banshee stepped toward him, almost as if she would seep right into him, he shuddered violently and eased his hold on the boy so the deadly patch was far from his flesh.

It was enough.

Angela tore from her bush, slamming into young Daniel and rolling with him far from Sam as Jackson stepped forward, his gun aimed at the man.

“Don’t move. Wild American, you know? Trigger-happy. Though, maybe not. I hate like hell to kill people, but after this murder spree of yours, I might not have that much trouble.”

By then, McCray was out, hurrying to stand by Jackson.

“How the hell do we get the patches from him?” McCray asked. He shivered as if he, too, sensed something in the yard. Something…

Not evil. Just…there.

“Well, I can shoot him. Or—”

Jackson didn’t have to shoot him. The man suddenly let out a shout of terror and slapped his hands against his face.

Both patches landed against his cheeks, and he went down to his knees, shrieking and screaming.

“I’m calling an ambulance; it’s the right thing to do,” McCray said.

“Indeed, it is,” Jackson agreed.

The banshee moved near Angela and the still-sobbing child. “The right thing. But it will do no good. As evil as he is, I will bring him where he will learn about the error of his ways.”

“Thank you,” Angela whispered to her.

The banshee turned and smiled at her. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“You saved his life.”

“No, I gave you the chance to save his life,” the banshee said. With a smile, she was gone, drifting across the space between them and Sam before plucking something ethereal from the man’s body.

Soon after, Angela realized that Moira was standing near her as she tried to calm the sobbing boy.

She stared after the banshee, smiling.

“I can see her,” she whispered. “She is so beautiful. The ghost from my dreams. And I know she will be with me here for years and years. Thank you.”

The banshee lowered her head, smiling and accepting the praise.

Stewart and Elizabeth came out, in tears as they rushed to Daniel.

Then, sirens cut through the night.