"White roses," she said, wistfully. "She'll like these. I'm sorry we can't help you."
"Me, too," I said. "I'm staying at the inn outside Kilmurvey," I said, "in case she changes her mind." I walked away from the house. The dog was nowhere to be seen. At the gate, I turned back. In the upstairs window, a lace curtain moved slightly, and I caught a glimpse of a face, probably Maire's. I trudged back to the inn.
I was sitting in front of the fireplace, feeling sorry for myself, and for Lola, when the phone rang at the desk. "Miss McClintoch," the innkeeper called to me. "Maire just called. You can go back to the Lake house."
Maire was waiting for me, the front door slightly ajar. The house was still rather dark, with heavy blue velvet curtains pulled against the light. The house was center-hall plan, with two pleasant rooms on either side of the entranceway, one filled with books, a desk, and sofa and chairs, the other with leather furniture and a television set. It was, however, all very gloomy.
Maire led me up dark stairs. "Are you sure you want to see her?" she said at the top. "You may regret it."
"That may be," I said, "but it's the only route open to me at the present time."
The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Well, then, come in."
The room she led me into was so dark, it took me a minute to adjust to the light. It was rather chilly, too.
"Are you the one who brought me the roses?" a voice said, and I peered into the gloom to see a woman in a rather pretty blue dress and pink fuzzy bedroom slippers sitting in a chair in the darkest part of the room. She was wearing sunglasses. The roses were in a crystal vase on a small table beside her.
"Yes," I said. "I hope you like them."
"They are my favorites," she said. "Do I know you?"
"No," I said. "I'm rather desperately trying to get in touch with your brother."
"Rhys?" she said.
"No, Crawford." Rhys was dead, didn't she know that? My heart sank.
She arched her head back in a grimace. She had bad teeth, discolored, and an eyetooth was missing. I was horrified. Was she being kept prisoner here against her will, suffering pain from her teeth? What was going on here?
"He killed him," she said. I was about to say who killed whom, but I suddenly knew the answer.
"Taso," I said. "You think Crawford killed Taso."
"I don't think, I know. I just don't know how he did it. Perhaps you could find that out for me."
"Now, Brandy," Maire said. "You shouldn't talk like that about your brother. You know he's very generous, sending money every month."
"He's buying my silence. Crawford can't stand not to get his own way. He was always like that, even when we were little," she said. "If someone crosses him, he gets rid of them. He was such a beautiful boy. They wouldn't let me see him. I expect they thought I wasn't strong enough. But I am strong," she said. "Look at me. I would have to be, wouldn't I? I think Crawford forbade them to let me see him."
"Do you know where Crawford is?"
"No, do you?" she said. "I wish I knew where he was. It's nice to have a visitor. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you," I said. The place was giving me the creeps.
"I'd like some," she said. "Would you get me some, Maire?"
Maire looked at me for a moment and then nodded. "I'll be right back," she said. I couldn't decide whether her comment was reassurance for Brandy or for me.
"Now she's gone," Brandy whispered. "I think you can help me."
"What would you like me to do?" I whispered back.
"I've been watching that fly on the ceiling," she said, pointing upward. It was too dark for me to see if there was a fly there or not. I wasn't even sure there were flies on the Aran Islands. "And I think I know how it's done."
"How what's done?"
"Walking upside down on the ceiling, of course."
"Oh," I said. "I see."
"Yes," she said. "Now, if you'll help me to get up there—you could give me a boost up on to the dresser or perhaps even the top of the cupboard door—I think I could do it. Will you help?"
"Uh ..." I heard Maire's steps on the stairs.
"Shush." Brandy said. "Don't tell her, will you? You come back sometime when she's not here. She shops every Monday morning. Come back then."
"Okay."
"Do you think I'm pretty?" Brandy said, as Maire pushed open the door and set down a silver tea service, which she placed on a table near Brandy.
"Now, dear," Maire said. "Of course she thinks you're pretty. Here's your tea. I've brought you some nice biscuits to have with it. Are you cool enough?"
Cool enough? I was getting the shivers. I didn't know whether it was the room temperature or the general atmosphere.
"Are you the one who brought me the flowers?" Brandy said again, cupping her hands around one of the blooms.
"Yes," I said. "I hope you like them."
"Perhaps you should leave," Maire said.
"Yes," I said.
"Can we go out today, Maire?" Brandy said.
"No, dear," Maire said. "The sun is shining."
"Oh well," Brandy said, in a philosophical tone. "Perhaps it will be foggy tomorrow."
"I'm sure it will," Maire said. "We'll go for a little walk tonight, maybe. I'm going to show this nice lady out, all right?"
"All right," she said.
"Do you know where her brother is?" I asked as we descended the stairs.
"No," Maire said.
"But he sends money every month."
"Yes. Bank transfer from Switzerland. It doesn't help you. I'm sorry. It's part of the arrangement, you see. Her brother is very generous in his support, but that is all. I don't know where he is. I should never have let you come. I felt perhaps I'd been too abrupt with you, when you came here this morning and were so evidently distressed. And she seemed better earlier. She was so excited about the roses."
"What's the matter with her?" I asked.
Maire looked at me for a minute. "Porphyria," she said at last.
"Isn't that... ?" I bit my tongue.
"Vampire's disease? Is that what you were going to say?"
"Yes. I'm sorry." That explained, though, the sunglasses all those years, and the bad teeth. People with the disease often had a terrible sensitivity to light.
"Promise you won't tell anyone. If you tell people, they'll harass her. It's a horrible disease, and people do not understand it. It frightens them. They think they'll catch it, or worse, that she's out at night sinking her fangs into animals or people. They always tried to keep it a secret. Their father had it, too. It's like a terrible curse on the family. This is one of the few places she can be comfortable. It's cool most of the year, and it rains a lot. If we had to leave, I don't know where we'd go."
"I promise you I won't tell anyone. Is that what has affected her mind?"
"Perhaps," she said. "It could. I've always rather thought it was the death of her lover, though. She was wild about him."
"It can't be much of a life for you, either," I said. "Do you ever get away from the house?"
"Her brother pays me well, although," she said looking across the bleak landscape, "there's nothing much here to spend it on. If rocks were worth something, we'd be the richest people in the world, wouldn't we? Anyway, you've seen her, the state she's in. How could I leave her when she's like that? My mother worked for the family, the O'Reillys. We're joined somehow, my family and hers. And do I get away sometimes? I do. A friend comes to visit from time to time to give me a bit of a holiday, when she can get out. It's just she does it less and less. So I'll say good-bye. It's been grand having a bit of company, but I don't think there's any point in your coming back here, do you?" "No," I said. "But thank you." "I hope your friend comes through all right." I turned to go, but then thought of one more question. "It's hereditary, isn't it? Porphyria? Does her brother have it, too?"