here when you need me, Shannon. Take care of yourself now.”
H ARRIET’S FISH CAFE was busy that night, but Shannon scarcely noticed, her mind was on Ned and Lily, and the puzzle of why she was the owner of Lily Molyneux’s diamond necklace. How had it come into Bob Keeffe’s possession? And why had he claimed it was “by way of being a family heirloom?”
T HE ANSWER CAME to her in bed that night. One of the few things her father had told her about himself was that the O’Keeffes came from Connemara. And Lily Molyneux came from Connemara too.
She sat up in bed and switched on the lamp, staring at Ned Sheridan’s photo propped against it, and the little packet of letters from Ciel, and the portrait and the diamond necklace. There was a connection between the O’Keeffes and the Molyneuxes, she just knew it.
She didn’t think twice. The next morning she closed up Sea Mist Cottage, gave in her notice to Harriet, took the ferry back to the mainland, and caught the first flight leaving for Ireland.
“A ND THAT’S WHY I’m here now,” Shannon finished her story breathlessly. “To find out about Lily and the O’Keeffes, and my family. I thought maybe it would help me find out the truth about my father.”
“Maybe it will and maybe it won’t,” I said, “but one thing I can tell you is Lily’s story.”
“It’s my opinion trouble always starts with a woman,” Brigid said knowledgeably.
“Cherchez la femme
is what I say.”
I stared at her, astonished. “I never knew you spoke French, Brigid.”
“Oh, I’ve picked up a smatterin’ over the years,” she retorted crisply. “So tell us more about Joanna,” she said to Shannon.
“I know my father really cared about her, and I guess Joanna really cared about him. Why else would she have kept so quiet all these years? After all, if she were just after his money, she would have been living in splendor and dripping with jewels, and making sure everybody knew about it.”
She added quietly, “You know, I thought about Joanna a lot when I was in Nantucket. I thought of her, left all alone, just the way I was, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She hadn’t even been able to come to the funeral, and she had been the soul of discretion; her name never even surfaced in the press. She had no one she could talk to about him, no one to comfort her, and I knew just how she felt. Anyhow, I wrote her a little note, sort of from one wounded heart to another.” She shrugged. “I thought it was the least I could do. For my father.”
“So what about the cruel stepmother?” Brigid asked quickly.
Shannon smiled. “Buffy wasn’t cruel. She was just selfish and … unkind.”
“Mmmnn,” I said thoughtfully. “I seem to remember hearing those very same words said about Lily.”
“Anyhow, murder is just not Buffy’s style. If she had wanted out, she would have gone for the glossy society divorce with its medals for valor under the strain of heavy social duties. She would have gotten her rewards for long service and a huge ‘golden alimony parachute’ at the end.”
“Tell us about the partners,” I said, while Brigid poured more tea.
Shannon thought for a moment. “I know Jack Wexler was jealous because Dad had a famous architect design his dream building instead of him. Dad once told me that hethought Jack fancied being in his shoes. But that doesn’t make a man a criminal, does it?
“And I’ve known Brad Jeffries since I was a kid. It’s impossible for me to think of him as a murderer. But maybe he secretly envied my father’s high-profile image. Maybe he was tired of being the
invisible man
in Keeffe Holdings? Or maybe it was greed?”
“And J.K.?” I asked curiously.
She heaved a great sigh. “Who knows what lurks beneath his ‘boss’s right-hand man’ image. But Dad knew J.K. was ambitious and he liked him for it. And I believed J.K. when he told me if there was anything he could have done to prevent the tragedy, he
H ARRIET’S FISH CAFE was busy that night, but Shannon scarcely noticed, her mind was on Ned and Lily, and the puzzle of why she was the owner of Lily Molyneux’s diamond necklace. How had it come into Bob Keeffe’s possession? And why had he claimed it was “by way of being a family heirloom?”
T HE ANSWER CAME to her in bed that night. One of the few things her father had told her about himself was that the O’Keeffes came from Connemara. And Lily Molyneux came from Connemara too.
She sat up in bed and switched on the lamp, staring at Ned Sheridan’s photo propped against it, and the little packet of letters from Ciel, and the portrait and the diamond necklace. There was a connection between the O’Keeffes and the Molyneuxes, she just knew it.
She didn’t think twice. The next morning she closed up Sea Mist Cottage, gave in her notice to Harriet, took the ferry back to the mainland, and caught the first flight leaving for Ireland.
“A ND THAT’S WHY I’m here now,” Shannon finished her story breathlessly. “To find out about Lily and the O’Keeffes, and my family. I thought maybe it would help me find out the truth about my father.”
“Maybe it will and maybe it won’t,” I said, “but one thing I can tell you is Lily’s story.”
“It’s my opinion trouble always starts with a woman,” Brigid said knowledgeably.
“Cherchez la femme
is what I say.”
I stared at her, astonished. “I never knew you spoke French, Brigid.”
“Oh, I’ve picked up a smatterin’ over the years,” she retorted crisply. “So tell us more about Joanna,” she said to Shannon.
“I know my father really cared about her, and I guess Joanna really cared about him. Why else would she have kept so quiet all these years? After all, if she were just after his money, she would have been living in splendor and dripping with jewels, and making sure everybody knew about it.”
She added quietly, “You know, I thought about Joanna a lot when I was in Nantucket. I thought of her, left all alone, just the way I was, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She hadn’t even been able to come to the funeral, and she had been the soul of discretion; her name never even surfaced in the press. She had no one she could talk to about him, no one to comfort her, and I knew just how she felt. Anyhow, I wrote her a little note, sort of from one wounded heart to another.” She shrugged. “I thought it was the least I could do. For my father.”
“So what about the cruel stepmother?” Brigid asked quickly.
Shannon smiled. “Buffy wasn’t cruel. She was just selfish and … unkind.”
“Mmmnn,” I said thoughtfully. “I seem to remember hearing those very same words said about Lily.”
“Anyhow, murder is just not Buffy’s style. If she had wanted out, she would have gone for the glossy society divorce with its medals for valor under the strain of heavy social duties. She would have gotten her rewards for long service and a huge ‘golden alimony parachute’ at the end.”
“Tell us about the partners,” I said, while Brigid poured more tea.
Shannon thought for a moment. “I know Jack Wexler was jealous because Dad had a famous architect design his dream building instead of him. Dad once told me that hethought Jack fancied being in his shoes. But that doesn’t make a man a criminal, does it?
“And I’ve known Brad Jeffries since I was a kid. It’s impossible for me to think of him as a murderer. But maybe he secretly envied my father’s high-profile image. Maybe he was tired of being the
invisible man
in Keeffe Holdings? Or maybe it was greed?”
“And J.K.?” I asked curiously.
She heaved a great sigh. “Who knows what lurks beneath his ‘boss’s right-hand man’ image. But Dad knew J.K. was ambitious and he liked him for it. And I believed J.K. when he told me if there was anything he could have done to prevent the tragedy, he
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