At last I caught sight of her through the window of the cafe, and had gone in and sat down at a table. She was the only one there, and I figured she'd have to say something to me. I was wrong. She stood at my table, pushed a lank piece of hair out of her eyes, and just looked at me, pen poised over her order pad.
"Hello, Breeta," I said. "I've been looking for you, hoping to talk to you again." She said nothing. The silence between us lengthened. "I was wondering if we could get together, after you get off work, perhaps, for a chat." Still nothing.
"Tea with lemon," I said finally. "And perhaps a cheese sandwich."
She turned without a word and walked away, returning a few minutes later with my order, which she placed in front of me with what seemed to be a deafening clatter.
"I'm very sorry that what I said last time upset you so much," I said. I meant that, too, although I still wasn't sure if she'd been the person to trash our room or not. She said she wasn't looking for the treasure. Maybe. But if that really were the case, perhaps she was actively trying to stop the rest of us from looking. In any event, she turned away without a word.
"If I can help you in any way…" I said helplessly to her retreating back. I looked down at the tea and sandwiches, and realized I couldn't eat a bite under the circumstances. I left some money on the table and walked away.
Despite all the gossip in town about the cause of the two deaths, and my personal apprehension, the second autopsy on John Herlihy's body had not turned up any poison and had merely confirmed what we already knew: that John Herlihy was a drinker of serious proportions. Michael had been killed by an overdose of heroin, bad heroin, and there being no other indications he'd used drugs before, let alone been an addict, this was still being investigated as murder.
I hadn't yet told Rob about Jennifer and Gilhooly, although I still intended to do so, despite Jennifer's pleading. I told her I'd give her a couple of days to break it to him herself, but it was difficult for her to find a quiet and private time with him to do so. Rob was spending a great deal of his time with the gardai, or at least one of them, trying to solve Michael's murder, and he wasn't around much in the evenings either. He'd taken to smoking, something he'd told me he'd given up when Jennifer was born. The men-sex-smoking thing being what it is, I assumed his relationship with Maeve had moved to a more intimate plane, but perhaps he took it up again in self-defense-so many people in Ireland had the habit and the restaurants and pubs were filled with smoke most of the time. We didn't discuss it, although I gave him many a disapproving look on the few occasions he lit up in my presence.
Occasionally, he'd stop by and have a bite to eat with Jennifer and me at the Inn, but the place was invariably crowded, and when I tried to leave them alone together, it just didn't work out. I'd come back after hiding out in my room for several minutes to find Aidan telling Rob and Jennifer a joke, or Malachy and Kevin would have sat down at the table and ordered a beer. Rob was very distracted and would occasionally rouse himself from the private world he was inhabiting to ask me how I was doing and ask Jennifer how her sailing lessons were going, but that was about it. I'd never seen him like this, and was occasionally tempted to shock him back to reality by telling him Jennifer might well be learning more than how to sail with Paddy Gilhooly, but somehow it just didn't seem fair.
Alex had taken himself off to stay at Rose Cottage for a few days. He said he wanted to try the place out before he decided what he wanted to do about it, but I figured that as much as anything he just wanted to get a good night's sleep without Rob creeping in and out at odd hours. The idea of Alex staying alone at Rose Cottage-I couldn't go with him and leave Jennifer alone all night, that much was certain-caused a frenzy of anxiety for me. I told myself that it was because I was worried about his health, and his proximity to Second Chance, and the possibility of a murderer there. He told me not to fuss. The compromise was he had to take my cell phone and meet me for a pub lunch, usually splendid fish and chips and a pint of Guinness for him, Kilkenny for me, almost every day.
Jennifer, needless to say, was consumed by her sailing lessons, and all that these entailed.
All of which meant that I was left on my own, feeling generally out of sorts. I felt abandoned somehow, bereft, with everyone else involved in something different-Rob with his Maeve, Jennifer with her Paddy, Alex with his Rose-none of which included me. In the end, I concluded I was just not myself, for reasons I could only explain as the aftermath of finding two bodies and being so far away from home.
So I did what I always do when I am in the thrall of feelings that I consider beneath my dignity: I threw myself into my work, or at least I tried to. I called Sarah a couple of times to see how things were going, but she sounded remarkably calm about my extended stay in Ireland, a fact I had trouble believing. I could only assume that this tranquility on her part meant that Clive had taken over control of the store, a thought that I translated into visions of returning eventually to find the place cold and dark, with Clive's shop across the road a mecca of bright lights for antiques enthusiasts everywhere. After a couple of nights of waking up in a cold sweat, I broke down and called Moira.
"Everything's fine," she said, to my question about how things in general were. I was working my way around to subject of the shop gradually.
"Sarah must be exhausted by now looking after the place by herself," I said, testing the waters.
"No, I don't think so," she said matter-of-factly. "She seems to be getting along all right. Clive has found her a co-op student, someone studying merchandising at the community college, to help her out a couple of hours a day after class. Sarah says the kid's terrific."
Kid, I thought. Knowing Clive this would be some nubile young thing who liked to sit on older men's knees. Moira had better keep her eye on him.
"And Ben thinks this is the best thing that's happened to him since he started the course," she continued. Ben, I thought, in amazement. So, no nubile young thing. What was the catch? Maybe Ben cost a fortune. Maybe Clive was bankrupting me.
"He's cheap too," Moira went on. "The school picks up half his wages as part of the course."
Much to my surprise, even after several more pointed questions, I could find nothing to fault with Clive's activities. I didn't know whether I was relieved or disappointed. "That's great," was what I said.
"Clive has an idea he'd like to discuss with you when you get back," Moira said. "A little joint promotion idea he's come up with. I won't tell you about it, because he'll want to. I think it's a terrific idea, though."
"Oh, I don't know…" I said. There was a pause in the conversation.
"Lara," Moira said. 'We have never discussed this business, Clive and I, I mean. I know it's been difficult for you, and I've never felt that you wanted to talk about it, which I really feel badly about, because until Clive and I got together, you and I had always been able to discuss everything. And maybe a transatlantic call isn't the right time, but Clive is really trying hard. He knows how much your friendship means to me. I've told him. I've told him that I've been through a lot of men in the time you and I have been friends, and that I intend for us to be friends forever. I've really been hoping that despite your nasty divorce, the two of you could get along."
I kind of doubted that Clive and I could ever really get along, but Moira's friendship meant as much to me as it apparently did to her, and I figured I'd better try. "I'm sure we can," I said.