and dagger stuff. Why the graveyard? Surely they both could have met somewhere more convenient in this weather. It wasn’t like Maggie visited Seamus’s grave every day.
Conor had told me all about her routine. Every Sunday straight after Mass, she and Conor would go to the grave and Maggie would change the flowers. ‘Do you have to go?’ I remember asking him once, hoping to go up to Dublin for the day. But Conor had explained that Maggie hated going to the graveyard on her own.
Well, not that day, because Vicky had left and Maggie had been standing in the graveyard by herself.
I had thought about going over to her but realised she might not have wanted me to see what just happened, so I had continued into the church expecting her to arrive in behind me any minute. She hadn’t. Apparently Maggie had everything under control. She didn’t need God’s help.
Then I had forgotten about it. With all that had happened since, the clandestine meeting had never come back into my thoughts – until now. Until I heard Maggie say she didn’t really know Vicky. She only met her the few times she was in the pub. Maggie is lying. But why?
Chapter Twenty-Three
I didn’t sleep much last night. I’m regretting not showing Conor the card and now I don’t have it. I have questioned whether I could have put it somewhere else. I was in such shock. But I know I didn’t. I can still see myself covering it up with the magazine. Someone else took it.
The longer I drag this out, the worse it will be. Conor will kill me when he finds out I’ve been keeping this secret. But I still don’t have any idea why I received the card at all – whether someone actually thinks Conor did kill Vicky, or whether someone just wanted to piss me off, burst my dream. I wanted to have a clearer idea of what I was dealing with before I told him about it. But here I am, days later, and still with no clue as to who sent it.
Conor has taken Shay downstairs. I’m dragging myself out of bed and into the shower when a thought suddenly bursts into my head. What if Conor found the card himself and disposed of it? Would he not ask me about it? Unless he thought I hadn’t seen it. I closed the envelope. He would never have known I had read it. But surely he’d say something if he found it. Unless he didn’t want me to read it. In case I believed it. In case it’s true. I shouldn’t have listened to Amanda. I should have said something to him straight away. Now I’m totally confused and I don’t know what to do. With the hot water running down my body, I decide the best thing to do is to try and forget about it once and for all. It’s ruining everything.
I dress myself and put on some makeup. I am Mrs Laura Caldwell and I should look like Mrs Laura Caldwell.
The smell of toast leads me to the kitchen where Conor is standing by the island with a glass of orange juice in his hand.
‘Are you going into work today?’ I say, noticing he’s wearing a suit. I thought he had a few more days off.
‘Just for a meeting, I’ll be back after it.’ But I know he won’t. Once he passes through the doors of the Caldwell Brewery he becomes a slave to himself. I’ll be lucky if he’s home for dinner tonight.
The briefcase is open on the countertop. Conor is checking the contents when the doorbell rings.
‘Who could that be?’ I say, walking to the hallway. I’m hoping it’s not Conor’s mother coming to help the poor daughter-in-law survive her first day without the hubby. When I get closer to the door, I see a large dark shape. It’s definitely not Maggie. The glass distorts the image but I can see it’s a man, a big man in a dark suit. I’m nervous turning the latch.
‘Hello, Laura,’ he says. ‘Is Conor here?’
‘Yes, come in.’ I stand back to let him enter. Detective Fintan Ryan has been here a couple of times before but not usually this early in the morning.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask, leading him into the kitchen. But I don’t know if he hears me; he doesn’t answer.
‘Fintan,’ Conor says in a loud cheery voice when we enter the kitchen. ‘To what do I owe