Shamrock Shenanigans (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 19) (7 page)

“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’ll do that, if you really don’t mind.”

Armand returned to the document he had been reading when I came in and I curled up on one of the sofas with Charlie and began to read. The journal was difficult to read. For one thing, the pages were faded, and for another, there was a lot of dialect unfamiliar to me. I was able to recognize enough words on most pages to get the gist of what the writer had been trying to convey. It seemed that like me, Felicia was fascinated with Carrick and Catherine and their romance. It appeared that she’d spent quite a lot of time putting together an accounting of Catherine’s life.

Catherine was the eldest daughter of an English duke. Felicia portrayed her as being very beautiful and sought by many men. It seems the duke and Carrick’s father, the present lord of the castle, came to some sort of an agreement in which their eldest offspring would be married to each other. The more I read the more I began to get a clear image of a young girl who was sent by her family to marry a man she had never even met. She couldn’t know at the time that he was the man she was destined to love for her entire life. How terrified she must have been on the day of her wedding.

Based on Felicia’s account of the life of Catherine, it didn’t appear her relationship with Carrick was one of love at first sight. In fact, there were several humorous accountings of Catherine’s acts of outright defiance, which, I imagined, proved to Carrick that she had gumption, causing him to fall in love with her in the first place. It sounded like once they found each other, however, Carrick and Catherine shared a love that was both eternal and legendary.

Like Armand, I found myself wishing I had more time to spend with Felicia’s journal and the other books, but Zak would most likely be wondering where I’d gotten off to and I still had a murder to solve. I reluctantly returned the book to Armand after filling him in on some of what I’d read. As a true testament to the primitive nature of the world in which Catherine and Carrick had lived, it was Catherine’s fourth son who eventually inherited the title from Carrick. Catherine lost three sons in her lifetime and Carrick lost two more before he passed.

Their eldest son died when he was only five from an illness that was not identified and their fifth son, who coincidentally was named Donovan, died in childbirth. Carrick and Catherine’s second eldest son was killed in battle a year before Catherine passed. Son number three as well as son number nine also died in battle prior to Carrick’s demise. Based on Felicia’s accounting Carrick likewise was killed in battle.

Suddenly the romance of the whole thing wasn’t quite so romantic. I supposed it was common to lose children to battle and illness during the sixteen hundreds; still, I imagined to a mother, it was no less heartbreaking. I couldn’t imagine losing Alex, Scooter, or Pi, and they were only borrowed children, who were destined to be part of my life only for a short time.

By the time Charlie and I headed up the stairs to our room, I found I was in a melancholy mood. Reading about the romance of ordinary lives was heartwarming and fascinating, but learning of the heartbreak contained within those same lives was something else entirely. Maybe it was preferable to read fictional accounts of lives that always ended in happily ever after.

“You okay?” Zak asked when I entered our room.

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“Yeah as in not really?” Zak slipped his strong arms around me.

I rested my head against his chest. “Just thinking about the lives of those who came before us.”

I explained to Zak the things I’d learned about Catherine and Carrick. Reading about the children they’d had and lost made them seem so real. I could almost imagine Catherine’s impish grin as she sought to make Carrick miserable during those first defiant days of her unwelcome marriage to a man she’d never met before. I was able to experience through Felicia’s retelling the magical moments that brought two souls who were destined to be together to that very conclusion prior to the birth of their first son. My heart bled with Carrick’s when Catherine died, leaving him to care for an infant son and the rest of their children.

“You know,” I said after Zak and I sat down on the edge of the bed, “I have to wonder why Catherine is still haunting the castle if Carrick supposedly moved on when he died in battle.”

“You don’t really believe all this ghost stuff, do you?”

I glared at my soon-to-be ex-husband.

“Of course you do. I’m sorry,” Zak apologized. “The fact that you have a heart and a mind that’s open to all things is actually one of the things I love the most about you.”

Okay, so maybe he didn’t have to be an ex.

“Supposing ghosts are real, how do we know that Catherine is here and Carrick isn’t?”

I supposed Zak had a point. We really didn’t know. Sure, Piper, Millie, and Fergus all seemed to have an opinion about which spirits moved on and which stayed, but really, all they had were opinions. At least I thought that was all they had.

“Were you able to get the satellite to work?” I wondered.

“Almost. I had to do some tweaking and build a booster, but I’ve almost got it. I need maybe thirty more minutes. If the storm doesn’t return, we should be able to send an e-mail to the kids and anyone else you want to check in with.”

“Can we Skype?”

“It’s three a.m. at home.”

“Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting about the time difference. You go ahead and finish what you’re doing while I see if I can find Millie. I have a question for her about Catherine. I’ll be back in a half hour or so.”

Thirty minutes didn’t leave me a lot of time. Luckily, Millie was having tea in the arboretum. She seemed to spend almost as much time in there as Armand did in the library. Even if Lord Dunphy wasn’t able to make a go of the murder mystery weekends, I was willing to bet he could get more than he did for simple lodging if he marketed things the right way.

After I sat down on the bench where Millie was sitting, I asked her about the ghosts she communicated with. I wondered if she always knew who it was she was chatting with.

“It depends. If the ghost was known to me in life, then yes, I can usually identify the energy as belonging to a specific person. If the spirit I’m communicating with wasn’t someone I knew, I need a frame of reference. Most times if spirits have remained behind it’s because they have unresolved issues that must be dealt with before they feel free to move on. I try to help them resolve those issues.”

“Can you always see or feel the energy of the departed ones in the area?” I wondered.

“I really have no way of knowing whose energy is in range and whether I’m picking them up, but my guess is that those who seek my help reach out to me.”

As much as I wanted to believe in the idea of spirits communicating from beyond, I had my doubts. Millie seemed genuine enough, but there was something that wasn’t quite adding up. It all seemed too … staged.

“Is anyone here now?” I asked.

“Is there someone you’re looking for?”

I wanted to ask my question about Catherine and Carrick but something stopped me. “No, just making conversation.” I made a point of looking at my watch. “Gee, look at the time. I should go. I’m supposed to meet up with Zak. Have a good day.”

“You too, dear. And Zoe…”

I stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“Catherine didn’t remain behind because she couldn’t bear to be away from Carrick; she stayed because there was something she hid that she needed someone to find. Once that item is found she will move on to be with her love.”

How did Millie know that was what I wanted to ask? The whole thing was starting to feel just a tiny bit creepy.

“Do you know what needs to be found?” I asked.

“No. It isn’t for me to find. I do sense that you’re connected to Catherine in a powerful way. I felt the bond the first time I met you.”

“Connected? Connected how?”

Millie frowned. “I’m not sure. Are your people from Ireland?”

“The Donovans emigrated from Ireland,” I confirmed.

“Interesting. Very interesting indeed.” Millie looked me up and down. “Do you have children?”

“Yes. No. I mean, sort of.”

Millie just looked at me.

I explained to Millie about the three minors Zak and I had living with us, as well as the school we were building for gifted youth. She asked me about my desire to have children of my own, and I found myself opening up to her about my conflicted feelings on that subject. I’m not sure why I shared so much with a woman I barely knew, but somehow I felt she would understand my internal struggle.

Millie smiled knowingly but didn’t offer advice. Her supportive energy seemed to open the floodgates and I found myself discussing with her feelings I didn’t even know I had. As time went on, I wondered whether Catherine had experienced all the same doubts and fears I did as she brought her first son into the world. How terrifying it must have been to love someone so much in such an unsettled and brutal time.

“I keep trying to figure out whether I’m ready. If we’re ready. I wonder how a baby will affect the dynamic we have with the children who currently share our lives. I wonder how a baby will change the relationship I currently have with Zak. There are just so many unanswered questions. I know Zak wants a baby and I want to give him one, but for the life of me I can’t figure out if this is the right time.”

Millie took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “When the time is right you will know.”

By the time I returned to our room Zak had managed to log on to the Internet. He warned me that the signal might only be temporary, so I typed out a quick e-mail to each of the three kids, as well as to Ellie and Levi, Jeremy Fisher, my assistant at Zoe’s Zoo, and my parents. Zak sent out a few e-mails as well, and then we turned our attention to the individuals with whom we were trapped in the castle.

“I haven’t figured out who Brent Silverwood is, but I’m fairly certain he isn’t an actor. There’s no one by that name registered with the Screen Actors Guild, and I’m coming up blank when I Google him as well.”

“So if he isn’t an actor why was he here?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I do know that the name Dugan Westerly doesn’t come up when I cross reference agents either.”

I remembered Dugan Westerly was the name of the agent Lord Dunphy had said contacted him about Brent’s participation in the murder mystery weekend.

“Maybe if we can figure out who Brent really was we can find out why he was killed, which might lead us to the identity of the person who killed him.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Zak agreed. “I’ll keep looking as long as I have a signal.”

“You might want to confirm the identities of the others as well. All we really have is Piper’s word that any of the guests are who they claim to be, and even she admitted she’d never met some of the people who were invited.”

“Okay, I’ll confirm everyone’s identity and then work on Brent some more if I have the time before I lose the signal. It looks like the next wave of the storm will be here in an hour or so. The good news is, now that I’ve boosted the signal, I should be able to log back on if it clears again.”

I decided to look for Lord Dunphy while Zak worked. I found I was curious about the dungeons beneath the castle, as well as the part that had been boarded up and was no longer in use. Lord Dunphy had told me that he’d searched every inch of the castle, but the reality was that Brent Silverwood’s body was missing and it had to be somewhere. If the tide had simply washed the body back onto the beach, someone would have stumbled across it by now, which led me to believe that it had to be hidden somewhere in the castle.

“Good morning, Liza,” I greeted the maid who had brought me towels the previous day. She was pushing a cart with towels and toiletries, which I assumed she was delivering to the rooms that were currently occupied by guests.

“Good day to you as well, ma’am.” Liza bent down to pet Charlie, who appeared to be thrilled to see her.

“I was hoping to speak to Lord Dunphy. Do you know where I might find him?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen him since early this morning.”

“Do you think he might be in his room?”

“No, ma’am. I dropped off clean linens just twenty minutes ago and his room was deserted. You might try the workroom. It seems he has been spending a lot of time down there. I imagine he is avoiding the questions he knows he will receive about the missing actor.”

I noticed Liza glanced at a closed door across the hallway from where we were standing. It seemed to be an involuntary glance, almost as if she was intentionally trying not to glance at it but couldn’t help herself. If I had to guess, the room she’d glanced at had belonged to Brent. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to take a look around once Liza continued down the hall. Chances were if Brent wasn’t who he claimed to be, he didn’t bring any clues to his real identity with him to the castle, but there was always the possibility that even a small clue could lead us to something that would help Zak and me to figure out who he was and what he was really doing here.

“Are all the guest rooms on this floor?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am. The guest rooms are on the second floor, Lord Dunphy occupies the third floor, and the staff is housed on the first floor, behind the kitchen.”

“Do you know how long ago the part of the castle that isn’t in use was sectioned off?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know. It’s been the way it is now throughout my lifetime. I believe the west wing hasn’t been occupied for quite some time. Lord Dunphy should be able to answer your questions if you are able to track him down.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll take a look in the workroom just in case. If you do run across him will you tell him I wish to speak to him?”

“Certainly.”

I waited until Liza let herself into the next room down the hallway before slipping into the room I hoped had belonged to Brent. I didn’t want to call attention to myself by knocking, so I truly hoped I wasn’t going to walk in on someone in a compromising position. The doors to the guest suites locked from the inside, but as far as I could tell there was no way to lock the doors once you exited the rooms.

Luckily, the room I slipped into was dark and vacant. I turned on a lamp next to the bed and began my search. There were three suitcases in the closet. My first thought was that three suitcases were a lot for a single person on a trip that was scheduled to last only four days. Perhaps Brent’s trip to Dunphy Castle was one stop on a much longer trip. The suitcases were empty, as if they’d been unpacked, but the odd thing was that based on the number of items hanging in the closet, the clothes Brent brought with him could have fit in a single case. Why the extras?

There was additional clothing in the armoire, as well as toiletries in the bathroom. I didn’t find any evidence of a cell phone, wallet, passport, or other identification. It made sense that he would have had his cell phone and possibly his wallet on his person when he was shot, but his passport? A passport didn’t seem like an item one would carry around on an everyday basis.

I really did wish Zak and I had taken the time to search the body for the cell phone and wallet when we’d first found it. Of course we’d had no reason to believe the body would turn up missing, so there hadn’t seemed to be any urgency to check things out.

I decided to look around the room for Brent’s passport. Chances were he hadn’t had it on him and we really did need to find out who the man really was. If Brent was trying to hide his identity, he would have stored any identification he might have in a secure location. After all, anyone could walk in and take a look around, as I had. I looked through the drawers in the bedside table and the bathroom, although I didn’t expect to find anything. I looked in the armoire, carefully removing each item of clothing, searching within the folds of the item, and then returning it to the drawer. I looked under the bed, behind the books on the small bookshelf that had been provided for the guest’s enjoyment, and behind the curtains. I noticed the window in this room looked out toward the cottage where we’d found his body. Coincidence?

I stood in the center of the room and looked around. There were any number of hiding places for an item as small as a passport. I looked under the pillows on the bed, and then under the mattress. I pulled the bookshelf away from the wall and looked behind it. Nothing.

I was about to give up when I noticed that the cushion of the chair next to the fireplace looked off. I wasn’t certain exactly how it was off, but it just didn’t look right. I lifted the cushion and found a laptop computer. Maybe the answer to Brent’s identity would be found in a document saved to the hard drive. I decided to try to sneak the computer back to our room so Zak could take a look at whatever files might be hidden on the device. The problem was that it was going to look conspicuous if someone saw me walking around with a laptop because everyone knew the Internet was down. I found a solid-colored sweatshirt in Brent’s closet, which was at least three sizes too big for me, but if anyone mentioned the fact that the garment hung to my knees, I could simply say it was Zak’s. I tucked the laptop up under the sweatshirt, then peeked out the door into the fortunately deserted hallway.

It was only a short distance down the hall to the room I shared with Zak. I slipped inside without anyone having seen me, or so I thought.

“That was quick,” Zak commented without looking up from what he was doing.

“I decided to search Brent’s room. I didn’t find any ID, but I did find his laptop.”

Zak turned around as I approached the desk where he was working. “Did you find his phone?”

“No, just the laptop. He probably had his phone on him when he was shot.”

“True.” Zak took the laptop from me, opened the lid, and turned on the power. “Just as I suspected; the machine is password protected.”

“Can you get in?”

“Yeah, I can get in. It might take a while because I don’t have any of my equipment and we have no way of knowing what he might have used for a password. I’ll work on it when I’m done here.”

“Have you found anything?” I asked.

He nodded. “I know Jessica Fielding is exactly who she claims to be, as is her niece Cassandra. Likewise, Millie Monroe really is a psychic and she actually has been credited with helping law enforcement on several missing persons cases.”

“And the others?” I asked after Zak paused to read something that had loaded onto the screen.

He frowned but didn’t answer.

“Did you find something?” I asked.

“It’s more like what I didn’t find. As far as I can tell, Sam Spalding isn’t a private investigator. He doesn’t seem to hold a license and I’ve been unable to find any information pertaining to a business under his name.”

“Maybe he works illegally, without a license,” I suggested.

“Maybe, but you would still think there’d be a way to look him up. How does he generate any business without an office, phone, or online listing?”

“Good question. I guess we can just ask him about his business. It wouldn’t be odd to ask for a business card or phone number should we have need of his services in the future.”

“It’s almost time for them to serve lunch. Let’s go down and see if he shows up,” Zak said.

“Did you find out anything about anyone else?” I asked.

“Drew Baltimore actually is a reporter and Armand Waller really is a fairly famous historian. I haven’t gotten around to checking out Susan or Luke yet. I guess we can do that after lunch, provided the Internet is still working.”

As it turned out, Sam was the only one in the dining room when we arrived. After a bit of probing he admitted he wasn’t really a private detective and Susan wasn’t really his assistant. He told us he was an actor who had been hired to attend the murder mystery weekend playing the part of Sam Spalding, PI. He wasn’t sure who had hired him because the job had been arranged through his agent. He’d never met Susan until she connected with him at the airport on the day he arrived at the castle. Zak took down the agent’s name and contact information. The phone lines still weren’t up, but maybe we’d be able to get off an e-mail before the Internet went down.

Piper, Jessica, and Cassandra arrived shortly after we finished speaking with “Sam,” and the conversation turned to general topics such as the unwelcome return of the rain. I couldn’t wait to get Zak alone so we could discuss the significance of two people who weren’t who they claimed to be attending the same party. Additionally, if Sam wasn’t Sam, I had to wonder who Susan really was. Unfortunately, she didn’t show up for lunch. In fact, of the eleven remaining guests, the only ones who sat down for lunch were the six of us. I imagined Armand was so engrossed in his research that he’d lost track of time, and Luke might still be with Susan. Millie might have decided to take her meal in the arboretum, where she seemed to spend most of her time, and Drew could be working on her story. I really hoped Lord Dunphy would show, but Byron announced that he was otherwise occupied but would be joining us for dinner.

After we ate I decided to take Armand a sandwich. The man had to eat, and I figured it would give me an opening to discuss Luke. I knew he was Armand’s teaching assistant, but it might be helpful to find out how well he knew him and how long Luke had been working with him. The more I thought about the suspects, the more I was beginning to focus on Luke. Initially, I’d believed Luke had been with Susan when Brent had been shot, but if she was sick the night of the murder, where had Luke actually been?

“I brought you lunch,” I said to the professor as I set the plate with the sandwich I’d made on the table. “Roast beef left over from last night’s dinner.”

“Thanks,” Armand said without bothering to look up.

“So how’s the research going?”

“Fine.”

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Armand pushed a small painting in front of me. The canvas was only about six inches by six in size. Featured on the canvas was a woman with dark hair piled high on her head wearing a blue dress. Her skin was fair and her eyes were as blue as the dress.

“She’s beautiful. Who is it?”

“I believe this is Catherine Dunphy. I found the canvas tucked inside a hollowed-out book.”

Armand pushed a large book across the table. Originally a book of fairy tales printed in the late eighteen hundreds, the interior pages had been carved out to provide a nesting place for the small painting.

“Why would someone hide it?” I wondered.

“I don’t know. I came across it quite by accident. The book of fairy tales was shelved with some of the journals and diaries I’ve been looking through. I only meant to move the book so I could see what was behind it, but when I picked it up it didn’t feel quite right. I opened it and found the painting.”