“Kelly escapes that?” Rocky said, looking perplexed. “I’ve some Irish in my background—and I love it,” he said.
Devin shook her head. “You’re talking about the prophecy—which does not say that something will happen to every Karney. Stop it. We’ll find out if something is or isn’t going on. If it is, I don’t believe it’s the banshee. Is there anyone who held a grudge against Collum or the family?”
“Something is going on,” Kelly said flatly, looking hard at Devin. “You heard the banshee wail.”
“We heard something,” Rocky said firmly. “A banshee? That’s questionable.”
“You don’t have any belief in our myths, legends, and ways?” Brendan asked.
“Oh, I do. I just don’t believe that what we heard was a banshee,” Rocky said.
“You found something?” Seamus asked him.
Rocky shook his head. “No, but I didn’t go banging on anyone’s doors and I can’t say that I know the castle well enough to really explore.”
“We can fix that!” Kelly said excitedly. “I mean, sounds bizarre, but it is our castle—you can go wherever you choose!”
“Thank you. I’d like to make a few calls this morning, and then I’d very much enjoy a private tour by one of the masters—or the mistress—of the castle,” Rocky said.
“What will you do first?” Seamus asked, looking at Rocky. Devin lowered her head, not offended that Rocky would be their go-to man—and not her. Her mother had always told her that Ireland was now racing toward a world beyond discrimination with all haste, but when her mom had been young, there had been separate rooms in most pubs for women.
Sexual discrimination died hard in many a place—even in the States, she knew. But, in the Republic of Ireland, divorce had only been legal since 1997, which, of course, wasn’t really discriminate on either side—just hell for people who discovered they simply couldn’t live together. Old ways died hard, especially in a small village like Karney.
“We’re going to see your doctor and coroner,” Rocky said. “And talk to him about Collum’s death.”
Brendan sniffed. “He acts all big shot—he’s a country doctor, and that’s a fact—I don’t care about all his high-falutin’ medical degrees. He’s a doctor, a fair one, but it’s just that we’re small here, and so, he’s the coroner, too.”
“But, he has a solid medical degree, right?” Rocky asked.
“He has medical degrees,” Brendan said. “Went to school in Dublin—and over at Oxford. And we have a sheriff and a deputy sheriff, too, but, seems to me, they all want the obvious and that’s it.”
“Brendan, I know you’ve been asked, but tell me what happened the day before Collum died, and then when you discovered his body,” Devin said.
“Ah, the day before,” Brendan murmured, drumming his fingers on the table. “We’d been to the church—you know our church has a relic, a bit of bone, said to have belonged to Saint Patrick himself?” he asked, distracted by the idea and smiling.
“That’s—great,” Devin said, not sure how to respond.
He nodded. “And, as you know, I think, for years and years—centuries even—St. Patrick’s Day was mainly a holy day here. Parades and celebrations and all have become part of the festivities in later years. So, of course, we’re traditional here. Early in the day, at least. There’s a fine parade in the village with Father Flannery carrying the cross and a host of his altar boys walking along, the choir singing in their place and all. We’d been to see the good Father due to all that, plotting the parade course and all. And we have a big show out here—just outside the walls, where the old fire pit is—with dancers and singers from St. Patrick’s of the Village. He’s a fine fellow, Father Flannery, he is. Anyway, so we met with him. Came back, reviewed the list of vendors who we’ve given space to within the walls for the fest—it will start tomorrow and go through St. Paddy’s—and then I went to pay bills and Collum spent time arguing with the Internet people. We ate dinner together at the pub. Collum went up to his room and I stayed down here talking with some guest, filling in some historical gaps, that kind of thing. Didn’t see him again until I saw him—dead. The housekeeper was in his room, screaming her head off. I came running and saw what she saw. Called the emergency number and they alerted the sheriff and Dr. Kirkland. They told me to try to resuscitate—and I would have tried, God help me, he was my brother—but he was dead. Stone cold dead.”
“You couldn’t have revived him,” Rocky said.
“No,” Brendan said softly, looking into space. He shrugged. “The central tower was alive with activity, official cars coming and going—and the hearse, coming and going.” His eyes fell directly on Rocky’s again. “I just want the truth—and justice for Collum. And…safety. Safety for Castle Karney.” He hesitated again. “For my brother and myself, and most importantly, for Kelly. If there’s something out there, ’tis better to know. And…”