downstairs bathroom right here on Millie’s floor. A picture of Millie, the family hunting dog, hung on the wall. Around here everything was named after someone, and the pub was no exception.
“Ye know that saying
like riding a bike
, meaning folks don’t be forgetting how it’s done no matter how old ye get?” Irish Donna slapped her hand on the table. “’Tis a big load of horse manure.” She gulped down the Guinness and let out a burp that warranted a round of applause from the next table over. “So where ye be headed this fine day?” Donna asked. She tackled Guinness number two, the dark brew taking the edge off her bike encounter and putting color in her cheeks and reddening her nose.
“I got pushed out of Smithy’s barn loft and I’m trying to figure out why and who did it,” I said between bites of green bean.
Donna’s eyes rounded, and she leaned across the table, hooking her finger for me to do the same. “It’s the meddling about the Bunny Festival, it is. I’ve heard talk that ye not be thinking Rudy did the deed, meaning someone else around here did. Gets people jumpy as a pea on a drum. If ye ask me, ye got the black cloud to thank for things not going your way one bit.”
She rolled her eyes upward and wagged her head in worry. “I can feel it this very minute, I can. It be growing around you getting bigger and bigger.” Her hands made the outline of a cloud, and a chill snaked down my spine. She slid the gold chain with the shamrock from around her neck, kissed it and slipped it over my head. “For protection, me dear. Ye be needing more than me these days.”
“Gee, that’s really sweet.”
“We can’t be having any more occupants over there at Doud’s with the place getting in a shipment of frozen juice and pies this very morning.” Donna helped herself to the green beans. “Bunny’s already squashed under the pizzas and tater tots, and another addition would be a true inconvenience to the store.”
“God forbid we inconvenience the store.”
“Amen, dearie.”
We split the bill, and I followed her out to the porch. “Well, let’s get on with it then,” she said to me. “The afternoon tea fudgies will be arriving at the Blarney Scone, and Shamus never puts the doilies out right, and he flirts something fierce if I don’t step in and put an end to it. The man has a roving eye and a weak brain.”
“You want to go with me to the loft?”
“You’re young and have your wits about you”—Donna studied my blotchy face—“well, most of the time you do, and you’re not the sort of lass who falls out of barns. I’d say someone was up there who followed you and is trying his best to scare you off from poking around the Bunny Festival. The question is, me dear, are you letting them get away with it and Rudy gets sent up the river for something he didn’t do?”
My bones ached, I had massive poison ivy, probably from climbing up Dwight’s trellis, I was on hit lists, the local cop wanted me behind bars but hey, my urinary tract was in good shape and I didn’t have hairballs. What more could a girl ask for. “I work for Rudy’s daughter back in Chicago. If I don’t straighten this Bunny mess out, she’ll fire me, and like you said, we can’t let Rudy get sent up the river. He’s a good guy getting a rotten deal.”
Donna slapped me on the back, adding to the bone ache. “Then let’s be getting on with it.”
“What about your bike?”
“If luck be with us, it’ll get pinched and we’ll not be seeing it ever again.”
Donna started off, and I fell in beside her. “There’s a little problem you should know about. Smithy was not happy about me being up in his loft and told me to stay away.”
“Well, he’d be drying his herbs up there this time of year, and the man’s fussy about his plants; says it’s his healing therapy for Constance leaving him like she did.”
“There’s another possibility other than the herbs why Smithy wants me to
“Ye know that saying
like riding a bike
, meaning folks don’t be forgetting how it’s done no matter how old ye get?” Irish Donna slapped her hand on the table. “’Tis a big load of horse manure.” She gulped down the Guinness and let out a burp that warranted a round of applause from the next table over. “So where ye be headed this fine day?” Donna asked. She tackled Guinness number two, the dark brew taking the edge off her bike encounter and putting color in her cheeks and reddening her nose.
“I got pushed out of Smithy’s barn loft and I’m trying to figure out why and who did it,” I said between bites of green bean.
Donna’s eyes rounded, and she leaned across the table, hooking her finger for me to do the same. “It’s the meddling about the Bunny Festival, it is. I’ve heard talk that ye not be thinking Rudy did the deed, meaning someone else around here did. Gets people jumpy as a pea on a drum. If ye ask me, ye got the black cloud to thank for things not going your way one bit.”
She rolled her eyes upward and wagged her head in worry. “I can feel it this very minute, I can. It be growing around you getting bigger and bigger.” Her hands made the outline of a cloud, and a chill snaked down my spine. She slid the gold chain with the shamrock from around her neck, kissed it and slipped it over my head. “For protection, me dear. Ye be needing more than me these days.”
“Gee, that’s really sweet.”
“We can’t be having any more occupants over there at Doud’s with the place getting in a shipment of frozen juice and pies this very morning.” Donna helped herself to the green beans. “Bunny’s already squashed under the pizzas and tater tots, and another addition would be a true inconvenience to the store.”
“God forbid we inconvenience the store.”
“Amen, dearie.”
We split the bill, and I followed her out to the porch. “Well, let’s get on with it then,” she said to me. “The afternoon tea fudgies will be arriving at the Blarney Scone, and Shamus never puts the doilies out right, and he flirts something fierce if I don’t step in and put an end to it. The man has a roving eye and a weak brain.”
“You want to go with me to the loft?”
“You’re young and have your wits about you”—Donna studied my blotchy face—“well, most of the time you do, and you’re not the sort of lass who falls out of barns. I’d say someone was up there who followed you and is trying his best to scare you off from poking around the Bunny Festival. The question is, me dear, are you letting them get away with it and Rudy gets sent up the river for something he didn’t do?”
My bones ached, I had massive poison ivy, probably from climbing up Dwight’s trellis, I was on hit lists, the local cop wanted me behind bars but hey, my urinary tract was in good shape and I didn’t have hairballs. What more could a girl ask for. “I work for Rudy’s daughter back in Chicago. If I don’t straighten this Bunny mess out, she’ll fire me, and like you said, we can’t let Rudy get sent up the river. He’s a good guy getting a rotten deal.”
Donna slapped me on the back, adding to the bone ache. “Then let’s be getting on with it.”
“What about your bike?”
“If luck be with us, it’ll get pinched and we’ll not be seeing it ever again.”
Donna started off, and I fell in beside her. “There’s a little problem you should know about. Smithy was not happy about me being up in his loft and told me to stay away.”
“Well, he’d be drying his herbs up there this time of year, and the man’s fussy about his plants; says it’s his healing therapy for Constance leaving him like she did.”
“There’s another possibility other than the herbs why Smithy wants me to
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