A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (23 page)

 “Another planet,” he said. “That’s why I need you, to keep me grounded.” His eyes glittered at her. “Besides, I’m a vampire that makes me hundreds of years old.” He pulled her to him, draping her in his cloak. “But there’s plenty of life in the old
Count
yet.” He wiggled his pelvis against her, making her laugh again.

 “Better make sure you have another pint of blood then, keep your strength up for later,” she grinned, beating him off with her lily, as he tried to bite her neck.

Chapter Twenty Five
To Catch A Thief

Dusk was bringing the last day of October to a close in spectacular style. Orange embers of sunlight splashed against charcoal clouds, draping the cliffs like a backdrop, the sea glimmered inkily below. The remnants of Maguire’s Halloween revellers - a family of ghouls, a fairy princess and a few bats were wending their weary way home.

Miss MacReady, exhausted from her zealous storytelling, followed by a couple of jigs and reels, and some serious jiving with Father Gregory, was going through her evening routine, rather earlier than usual.

She locked the back door, clicking along the hallway in mules to check the main area of the post office. Turning off the light, she tried to remember if the front door was bolted, when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and took fright. She had forgotten her hair was already wrapped in the huge spongy curlers she favoured when sleeping alone - far too frequent an occurrence these days, she thought ruefully. She was sure she had bolted it, so flicked the switch, plunging the entire shop into darkness.

A loud crash - blast of cold air - footsteps and muffled grunts - stopped her in her tracks. She stood frozen to the spot. Flashes of light criss-crossed the gloom, then turned upwards to shine on grotesque faces. Wild eyes glinted at her. She closed her eyes and screamed. When she opened them again, the monsters were still staring at her. She swallowed, then laughed. It was a silly Halloween prank, even in their garish masks she was sure she recognised them.

“My word, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” She touched her chest. Rough hands grabbed her shoulders, spinning her round, as something smooth and sticky was slapped across her mouth. Her arms were pulled behind her back and she felt a savage twisting and tightening around her wrists. She kicked out - a grunt - she made contact.

“Take it easy,” a male voice hissed in her ear. She could smell alcohol and cigarette smoke. “The more you struggle the worse it’ll be. Stay calm, be quiet.”

She tried to free herself from his grip, then something was tied tightly over her eyes and she was pushed to the floor. She fell awkwardly, crying out, but the tape around her mouth prevented any sound escaping. Struggling to sit upright, she heard hushed voices and shuffling around her, she pushed herself backwards against the wall. Winded and shocked, she sat in the pitch-black, trying to think rationally, trying to recall her last conversation with Larry. She remembered he said the post office would be raided, but she could not remember if he told her
when
. Surely he would have given some warning of this? No, this was it alright - the robbery to steal the jewels - so they could claim the insurance.

It’s okay
, she told herself,
these aren’t real thieves, these are the guys Larry has set up to do the robbery
. She tried taking some deep breaths, difficult with the tape over her mouth. If she had warning she could have cleared the safe out properly, leaving the jewellery but removing the valuables that islanders left in her care. She tried to picture what was in there: a Holy Relic Mrs Molloy had been given by an African priest; a Georgian candelabra left to Joan Redmond, and a plain leather document wallet with a brass lock. She could not remember where that came from, nor could she open it, but it would remain in her care until whoever had left it claimed it.

Then another thought:
what if these were not Larry’s burglars, what if these were real thieves?
  She hoped the robbers, whoever they were, would take only the jewellery. She would be heartbroken if the belongings left for her to mind were stolen too.

A clatter and a blast of cold air brought Miss MacReady back to the present.

“Hey, what’s going on?” shouted a loud, strong voice, followed by a scuffle, clunk and a groan.

“Let’s go, get out of here,
now
!” Another voice, one she thought she recognised.

“Not so fast,” said the first voice. She could tell the lights were back on.

“Good God, Kathleen,” Father Gregory cried out. He pulled the blindfold off and she squinted in the glare, casting her eyes backwards, grunting at him. He looked behind her and untied her hands.

Then Sinead ran up the steps and in through the door. Miss MacReady blinked. She had not seen her all day.

“Don’t pull that tape,” Sinead ordered. “I’ll need solvent and antiseptic gel. That stuff will rip her lips off.” She crossed the room to where the postmistress sat huddled with the priest beside her. Sinead had brought the doctor’s bag and was already applying liberal amounts of lubricant to the ducting tape over Miss MacReady’s mouth.

There was another scuffle in the corner. Dermot Finnegan had a zombie in a headlock; a ghoul was spread-eagled on the floor. Father Gregory leapt away from Miss MacReady and in one movement plonked himself heavily on the ghoul’s back, as Ryan burst through the open door.

“You were right,” Ryan said, handing his friend the handcuffs he produced from his pocket, “they were on the wall.” Dermot expertly snapped the cuffs on.

Erin Brennan was next up the post office steps.

“Is everyone okay? Is this a prank gone wrong or something?”

“Sadly not,” Father Gregory remarked. Miss MacReady grunted in agreement.

Erin went to help the postmistress to her feet. Ryan, hands on hips, stood before Dermot and his now restrained captive.

“Time to reveal?” he nodded at the masked intruder.

“Okay,” said Dermot, his arms clamped tightly around the man. Ryan pulled the ghoulish mask off the prisoner. There was an intake of breath. It was Pat MacReady.

“Pat!” Miss MacReady shrilled, finally able to speak, “what are you at?”

Pat blinked at his sister. “Had to be done, Kathleen,” he shrugged at her. “Didn’t mean you any harm, hope we didn’t hurt you.”

Ryan helped Father Gregory haul the other assailant to his feet. They each held an arm. Ryan yanked the mask off.

“For feck’s sake,” Miss MacReady exclaimed again. “Phileas what on earth?”

Sinead turned away; there were tears in her eyes.

“What do we do now?” Ryan asked Dermot grimly.

“We need the guards, these boys are in big trouble.”

“Well, now I am confused,” Miss MacReady said, “they were supposed to be professionals, in and out in a flash and
then
I call the police. I can’t believe he sent these two eejits in fecking Halloween masks.”

The room fell silent.

“Or is this all part of the set up?” she asked quietly, scanning their faces.

“What set up?” Ryan was intrigued.

“You weren’t tipped off about a robbery?” Miss MacReady replied. They looked at each other.

“Dermot, surely you knew?” Miss MacReady insisted.

“What was I supposed to know? I was walking back with Gregory from the pub, when we noticed the post office door was wide open,” Dermot replied.

Miss MacReady turned to Ryan.

“Same here, out for a stroll. Dermot rang me, said there’s a suspected intruder up at the post office, I nipped back, grabbed the old handcuffs off the wall of the pub,” Ryan told her.

“Ah Ryan, they’re part of the historical display, the Black and Tans,” Miss MacReady exclaimed, dismayed.

“Doubt there’ll be a key, so he won’t be going anywhere soon,” Erin said in her usual matter-of-fact style. “I’ve called the Gardaí anyway, they’re on their way.” She put her phone away.

Phileas and Pat just stood there, eyes averted.

Father Gregory put his arm around Miss MacReady.

“Sinead, will you fetch Kathleen a tot of brandy?” he asked gently. Sinead disappeared into Miss MacReady’s inner sanctum. Father Gregory gave the postmistress a hug.

“You might be a little delirious, Kathleen, huge shock, understandable. Take a few deep breaths now,” he said.

“Ah feck off, Gregory, I know what’s what,” she snapped, taking the glass from Sinead, knocking the brandy straight back. She looked up at Pat and Phileas. Huddled together like naughty schoolboys, they looked pathetic. She was starting to think more clearly. This was not the professional team Larry had lined up, they looked just like the couple of chancers they were. “You’re probably right, Gregory, I’m not myself,” she acquiesced, “I certainly would not have a house full, and still be in my curlers, if I was.”

Father Gregory nodded solemnly and patted her hand.

“I can’t believe you two would actually do something like this to one of our own, in your own village. You’ve done some stupid things in your time, Pat, but Phileas?” the priest glared at the men.

“I don’t have to answer to you or anyone else, priest,” he hissed.

“No, of course you don’t, Phileas, you’re only a ghoul having a bit of fun on Halloween, you’ve not broken into the post office, or attacked Kathleen here, you’re not even a real burglar!” Ryan was angry.

Erin scowled at them both. “He’s right, this is a very serious matter.”

Pat was just about to protest, when the roar of engines, sirens and blue flashing lights signalled the arrival of the police. Within minutes Sergeant Brody and Garda O’Riordan were charging up the steps and into the shop. Miss MacReady sighed. She knew it was necessary but the boys did love an excuse to switch that fecking siren on.

“Aha, I see the suspects are restrained. Everyone okay here?” Sergeant Brody asked giving Dermot a half-salute, then, spotting Erin widened his eyes. She frowned back at him. Miss MacReady had not missed a trick. She gave them all a stern look, before heading off to her living quarters for more brandy. It was going to be another long night.

Sergeant Brody and Garda O’Riordan did not seem a bit surprised to find Phileas Porter and Pat MacReady sitting back to back on two kitchen chairs in the main area of the post office. Sergeant Brody thought the handcuffs on Pat were a bit over the top but Dermot Finnegan was a tough cookie and both Father Gregory and Ryan the
actor-fella
were fit men, so the villains of the piece were not going anywhere in a hurry.

 Miss MacReady, now standing by the safe, arms folded, was scowling at them, as Sinead packed away her doctor’s bag unable to even look at her husband.

 “I thought some eejit would have a go at lifting the film star’s jewels, right enough, once we heard she’d left without them, God rest her soul.” Sergeant Brody blessed himself.

Miss MacReady remembered that morning well. She had been on the phone to Larry when the sergeant arrived at the post office for his weekly chat over a cup of coffee. She had been having second thoughts about the whole robbery idea, and when she heard Angelique was leaving, asked Larry to come and take the jewellery and return it to the actress. Larry said Angelique would be expecting him to deal with things, so to leave the jewels where they were and give him time to think things through. They argued and she slammed the phone down on him.

Sergeant Brody was still talking. “I’d have given these two losers credit for a bit more intelligence.” His shrewd eyes swept over the pair, shifting in their seats. “What are ya got up like at all?” he asked, acknowledging the Halloween costumes the would-be jewel thieves had donned as disguises.

 “I’m disgusted,” Miss MacReady had rallied, “my own brother and Phileas Porter, supposed to be a stalwart of the community, what on earth were you thinking?” Silence. Dermot walked across the room to the Gardaí.

 “If it wasn’t so serious, it would be funny,” he said.

 Sergeant Brody opened a new pack of
Silvermints
and offered them round, ignoring the hapless prisoners. “Are we charging them so?” he looked at Miss MacReady. They were cousins; he did not like the idea of charging one of their own.

 “This is the post office Sergeant, it’s a crime against the State!” she was emphatic.

 “An attempted crime,” the officer corrected.

 “A pretty violent attempt,” Father Gregory said. “It’s a good job we got here when we did. Miss MacReady had been attacked.”

 “Ah no,” squawked Pat, “we’d never have harmed her, I swear to you.”

 “The shock alone could have killed me,” Miss MacReady told him. Pat shrank back into his chair.

 “Did they break in?” Garda O’Riordan asked her.

 “Burst in through the door while I was locking up, doing my last rounds, frightened the life out of me, dressed up like a pair of monsters, the fools!” Miss MacReady told him.

 “Better take statements from everyone, then we’ll get
Frankenstein
and
Shaun of the Dead
here down to the station and charge them. Youse can call your lawyers from there,” he told the accused.

 Ryan checked his watch. “I’ll ring Marianne and tell her what’s gone on.”

 “How much will you tell her?” Dermot asked.

 “Why, everything of course, any reason why not?” Ryan replied.

 “Will she tell the press, do a story?” Miss MacReady was enthusiastic.

 Ryan shrugged. “Not sure about that, she’s not in that game anymore.”

 “Mightn’t be wise involving the media,” Dermot offered, “couldn’t be good for tourism, criminal activity on the island.”

 Miss MacReady laughed. “There’s always been criminal activity on this island. Demonstrates the extent of it when your own family turns against you, tries to rob you in your home.” She was not letting it go.