Page 13 of Death at Inishmore Castle

He shrugged. “It occurred under my watch. The fortunes of our family have been up and down throughout history. Just about every one of my relatives has died in an odd sort of way. My wife’s family seems to have fallen under that curse.”

“I thought the castle was built just a few hundred years ago.” It was odd to say, just a few, when most buildings in Ireland were older than anything we had in America.

“Even though we have turrets, it is legally considered an estate. And it was built by French noblemen. But everyone has always called it a castle.”

“You mentioned your wife’s family. What happened to them?”

“That was some bad business. Her parents were killed in a boating accident off the coast of Spain while on holiday—has to be nearly twenty years or so ago.”

“Oh, that’s terrible.”

The lights flickered back on, and I had to blink against the brightness.

“It was,” he said. “The boat capsized, and the authorities never discovered how or why. Like I said, odd deaths. It crushed my poor Nora, but she’s a strong one and so brave.”

I admired his appreciation for his wife. While I hadn’t spent much time with her, I’d taken an instant liking to her. She reminded me of Lizzie. Someone with an open heart who welcomed strangers.

We turned a corner at the end of the hall, and he made his way across the expansive entryway to a pair of double doors.

The lights flickered but stayed on as we entered the dining room. The place was filled with candles, and several guests stoodaround someone at the head of the table. They blocked the view so I couldn’t see who it was.

“What happened?” Gordon asked worriedly. “We heard someone scream.”

The guests parted, and we found Sister Sarah sitting in a chair, looking quite pale. Her foot was propped up on a small stool with a small bag of ice on her ankle.

“She says someone pushed her down the stairs,” Nora whispered. Her face was pinched with worry. “Sister Sarah, I’m so sorry this happened to you. Tell me what you need.”

I glanced over her shoulder to my sister, who had a perplexed look on her face.

“Ouch,” Sister Sarah said as she tried to move her leg. She appeared to be in great pain. But all I could think about was how had her broken rosary ended up in a dead man’s hand? Her habit was disheveled, and a peek of curly blonde hair showed through. It was obviously dyed an unnatural color.

I motioned for Lizzie to come away from the crowd.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Did you see what happened?”

“Mr. Poe and I were in the entryway trying to figure out which door led to the nearest bathroom,” she whispered. She stopped and glanced back over her shoulder.

“And?”

“I was coming out of the first room off the entry, which was not the bathroom, when I heard the scream. The lights were out, and it was so dark. There was the scream, and then I saw something white on the floor. It was her habit. I used my light on my phone and saw her sprawled out on the floor.”

“She says she was pushed,” I said.

Lizzie pursed her lips. “That’s the thing. I was right there. I didn’t hear her fall, and I certainly didn’t hear anyone else on the stairs. They’re wooden. Anytime you go up or down, it sounds like a herd of cows. And everyone except for you all came rushingout of the dining room when they heard the scream. Who could have pushed her?”

“Are you saying she lied?” I whispered the question.

Her eyes went wide. “Of course not, she’s a nun. Why would she lie?”

I shrugged. “She doesn’t act like any nun I’ve ever met, not that there have been that many.” But I’d done my fair share of charity work when I lived in the States. And nuns were usually at the forefront of creating schools and activities for the underprivileged near where I had lived in Manhattan. “Did you see her ankle?”

Lizzie shook her head. “She insisted on putting the ice on top of her stocking, so we couldn’t see anything. If she was lying, why would she do that?”

“To distract us,” I said. “And perhaps to draw any suspicion from herself regarding the priest. I mean, they did seem to know one another, and they were seen fighting more than once. But if she were doing that, why?”

She bit her lip. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”

“That she is lying for some reason? Yes. But, like I said, the big question is why. It feels hinky no matter what.”

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