Page 5 of Death at Inishmore Castle

“It’s grand I’ve got two handsome men to hold onto after those delicious wee drams,” Lolly said, red-faced and grinning from ear to ear as Rob and Scott helped her up the path.

“If you lot would stop your incessant talking and move it along, we could make it back without us all getting drenched,” the priest said as he bustled past us, rather unsteadily. The nun said nothing but was right at his heels.

“He might be a priest, but that man is just rude,” Brenna said.

“I wonder why he’s so grumpy,” Lizzie said.

I shrugged. “No idea, but I feel sorry for his parishioners if that’s how he acts with everyone. Can you imagine what it must be like for them to go to confession? What’s that? You said a bad word? That will be five thousand Hail Marys.”

She giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile. Mr. Poe barked. He usually liked my jokes, which was just one more reason to love him.

Inside the mudroom off the kitchen, there were several benches where we could switch back to our shoes from our wellies.

“Did you enjoy the tour?” asked Nora, who was waiting for us.

“We did,” Lizzie said, and the others all agreed.

“I found it fascinating,” I said. “It’s given me an idea for a book.”

Nora clapped her hands. “Feel free to mention us. We could do with the publicity.”

I didn’t think my publisher would allow it, given I murdered people in my books, and they didn’t like being sued. But I might be able to mention the brand if someone just drank it. Quite honestly, it was the best whiskey I’d ever tasted. I’d had my fair share through the years.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Later that evening, we headed downstairs for cocktails—not that I planned to drink anything other than water. I still had a buzz from earlier in the afternoon. My sister and I had napped for an hour, and I still felt a bit bleary-eyed. If she hadn’t insisted on my going downstairs with her, I would have happily slept until the next morning.

In my defense, I had had several sleepless nights stressing over deadlines because I was at a point in my book where I worried if I was doing it right. Every time I wrote a book, and there were many, this happened. The writer insecurity was never far away.

But now, I had a germ of an idea and I had the perfect way to work it into my current story. Lizzie had been right. All I needed was a break and a bit of inspiration from the whiskey distillery.

We met Scott and Rob downstairs in the foyer.

“Do you know which room the cocktails are in?” Lizzie asked them.

“The billiard room,” Scott said. “But it isn’t on the map we were given. We heard you coming and hoped perhaps you knew.”

Mr. Poe yipped at our heels. Then he sniffed the air. He’d spent the afternoon warmly snug on Lizzie’s bed, though she’d taken him for a walk an hour or so ago, while I had been getting ready.

He took off toward a hallway.

“Maybe he hears people,” Lizzie said.

I often swore he was more human than dog, as he seemed to understand everything we said. He was smart and cute, which were two of the many reasons we adored him.

“We might as well follow him,” I said. “He almost always knows where he’s going before we do.”

Halfway down the long hallway, he pawed at a pair of wooden doors. I opened one of them, expecting to find the billiard room and the rest of the guests. But when I did, it was a study. There were no lamps lit, but there was a figure sitting at the desk.

“Sorry to bother you, but can you tell us where the billiard room is?”

No answer.

Maybe he or she had headphones on. It was difficult to see, but there was definitely an outline silhouetted as lightning flashed outside the window.

“I’m sorry. We thought this was the billiard room,” I said by way of apologizing. “So, uh. Right. I guess we’ll leave you to your work. Sorry again for the interruption.”

The figure didn’t say anything.

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