“So tell us,” Sid leaned toward me. “If it’s a family member, whom do you suspect?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Go through them, one by one.”
“All right,” I said. “Archie Van Horn and his wife, Irene. She’s Brian’s daughter. Brian doted on her. Only child. She wouldn’t have pushed her own daughter over a cliff or killed her beloved father. Archie wouldn’t have killed the goose that laid their golden eggs.”
“Who else can we eliminate?”
“Brian Hannan’s sister Mary and his brother Patrick. She is a comfortable middle-aged woman. A simple soul. Loves her grandson. Wouldn’t know about poisons. The same goes for Brian’s brother the priest, Father Patrick. Rather shy and unworldly. He’d have no reason to want his brother dead.”
“See we’re eliminating people left, right, and center,” Sid said. “Who else can we strike off?”
“Joseph Hannan’s daughter, Eliza,” I said. “She’s the sort of person you’d like. A do-gooder. You may even know her. Works among the poor, and in the temperance movement.”
Sid laughed. “No, I can’t say we’re big proponents of the temperance movement, are we, Gus? We enjoy a good wine too much.”
“But I think we can strike off Eliza. I can’t see any reason she’d want to kill her great uncle.”
“Which brings us to the likely suspects,” Sid said. “How many of them are there?”
“Well, I suppose Joseph Hannan, who was Brian’s brother and business partner. Daniel suspected the company was involved in some shady deals and Brian had recently left the running of the company to Joseph. Perhaps Joseph didn’t want Brian to know what he’d been doing.”
“But that wouldn’t tie in to the little girl,” Gus pointed out.
“Maybe it doesn’t tie in,” I said. “Maybe Colleen’s death was as described and the fact that Brian was found in the same spot is purely coincidental.”
“Go on with the suspects,” Sid said. “After Joseph Hannan?”
“His son, Terrence. He’s a likable young man. A lot of fun at parties. Reminds me of our friend Ryan O’Hare—witty, debonair.”
“But—” Gus said.
“But I wouldn’t say trustworthy. Likes the easy life. Doesn’t want to work. And I think I saw him slinking from the house around the time that Brian was murdered. At least he’s tall and slim and his father is a good deal stockier.”
“He’d be a good suspect,” Gus agreed. “Uncle was forcing him to work, maybe cutting off his funds, so he seized the moment.”
“I’ve got a wonderful idea,” Sid said. “Go to see Brian’s attorney, Molly. What if Brian was about to change his will—cutting out Terrence, for example. That would force the family member to take action before the new will was signed.”
“Good thought,” I said. “I’ll look into it.”
“Have we finished? Is that the entire Hannan family at last?”
“There is a great nephew, Sam,” I said. “Also a likely candidate. His own family situation is not the best—drunken and useless Irish father, beats up his mother. Sam was involved with a gang, so Brian Hannan took charge of him and has put him to work as messenger boy in his business. He was the one who discovered the body and Daniel says that murderers often draw people to the scene of the crime.”
“Yes, he sounds suspicious,” Gus nodded.
“It’s hard to say,” I said. “I can’t believe any of them could have had anything to do with the little girl’s death. And they all seem genuinely shaken about Brian Hannan. Maybe it was an outsider after all.” And I told them about the man who had appeared at the gate, wanting to know if Brian Hannan had arrived yet.
“It seemed clear that he had followed Mr. Hannan from New York,” I said. “But the police were not able to find him the next day. Maybe he went back to New York on the early train.”
“Of course Hannan was a public figure, wasn’t he?” Gus said. “Such people do expose themselves to crackpots.”
“But what about the tray of liquor and the two glasses,” I said. “Brian Hannan was clearly going to have a drink with somebody he knew.”
Sid patted my shoulder. “Go to New York and find out what you can, Molly. Otherwise you’ll never be satisfied.”
Twenty-eight
I felt guilty as I hurried back to Daniel. I had left him longer than I intended to. What if he’d awoken and needed me and I wasn’t there? What if he’d taken a sudden turn for the worse? I glanced at that house across the street as I reached the gate. I’d have dearly loved to interview the person behind those drapes, but I had to check on my husband first. I opened the cottage door to the smell of bacon frying. An hour ago it would have been a delicious aroma. Having just had my fill of breakfast, it had lost its appeal.