When Irish Eyes Are Haunting: A Krewe of Hunters Novella (11 page)

He was armed.

He’d chosen a small knife from the weapons above the hearth in the great hall. It was unfortunate that they had come as tourists—without their weapons.

But this killer wasn’t walking around with a gun. A gun would be too obvious. This killer was trying to murder his victims in ways that made it appear that natural causes or fear itself had done them in.

So far, the killer had attempted to kill older men who had lived their lives steeped in legend.

They hadn’t gone after an able-bodied American trained in arms and self-defense.

He jarred upright to the least crackle of the fire. He slipped out to the hall now and then, and even back downstairs. He checked to see that the pub was locked up tight for the night.

There was no movement. The castle guests were in their own wing, most probably sleeping.

As were Aidan and Michael. Rocky would have heard them had they left their rooms.

He checked in with Devin at the hospital every so often.

She was fine. Brendan was fine.

At seven a.m., he received the call he expected; Will Chan and Kat Sokolov had arrived. They had landed in Dublin; they would be there within a few hours.

Rocky was grateful that they were on their way. Kat was a tiny, very pretty blonde—the last person one would expect to be an excellent medical examiner. Will Chan was intriguing—his background was Trinidadian and Chinese and a mix of American-Northern European. He’d been in magic, in theater, in film—and computers. If anyone could figure out a computer or machine engineered haunting, it was Will.

Together, they were a handsome, engaging—and deadly competent couple.

Rocky was cheerful as he rose and headed down to the pub.

Michael and Aidan were there and hailed him when he came in, urging him to join them.

“Where is the missus?” Aidan asked him.

“She spent the night at the hospital with Kelly,” Rocky explained.

“Ah, of course,” Michael said. “He’s doing well? Brendan is doing well?”

“Stable and holding,” Rocky assured them. “How about you two? You sleep well? Any interruptions?”

“The banshee?” Michael asked solemnly.

“Don’t make him think we’re daft,” Aidan said. “No, but, I admit—I didn’t sleep well. It’s unnerving. First Collum. Then, Brendan. And that wailing people talked about. I slept with my door bolted, I’ll tell you that.”

“I considered going back to Dublin,” Michael admitted.

“You can’t. We’re always here for St. Paddy’s Day,” Aidan said.

“Aye, but, people aren’t usually dropping like flies around the feast day,” Michael said. He looked hard at Rocky. “Do you think we’re in danger?”

“I think that something is going on. And I will find out what,” Rocky said.

“We’re all right—we’re all right as long as Seamus and Kelly are all right,” Aidan said.

“And you think something is going to happen to Seamus next?” his brother asked, appalled.

“They’re next,” Aidan said softly.

“Have you been back up here lately—as in around when Collum died?” Rocky asked.

“Aye—we came for the funeral,” Michael said sadly. “Collum’s funeral.”

The two sounded sincere.

But, it was difficult to be sure.

“I meant before that,” Rocky said.

“Are you suggesting something?” Aidan demanded.

Rocky shook his head. “No. I’m wondering if you saw or heard anything peculiar.”

“I hadn’t been here in months,” Michael said.

“Nor I,” Aidan said flatly.

“Well, thank you. We will get to the bottom of it all,” he assured them with a smile.

He rose and left them.

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, newlywed,” 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.”