Maura looked up to see Sean Murphy walk in, and he looked as though he was excited but trying to hide it. “Hey, Sean. Do you have news for us?”

“Mebbe. We’ve found nothin’ more about John Byrne the man. Like I told yeh before, passport says he was born in New York, but it’s a big place, I’m told, and some people can slip through the cracks. Plus there’s no shortage of John Byrnes there.”

“Hey, sit down for a couple of minutes, will you?” Maura said. “You’ve got more to tell, right?”

Sean pulled out a barstool and sat. “Could yeh do me a coffee, Rosie? I might. I’m workin’ on yer mother’s idea of his Harvard years. She said she’d see if she could get the people there to talk to her—I’ve had no luck gettin’ personal information out of anyone there, but I’ve confirmed he was there, and that gives us a time and place to look fer the man.”

She should check with Helen to see if she’d had any better luck with Harvard. “I saw Helen for lunch, and she said she’d have all the staff lists by the end of the day—she was tied up in a meeting at the hotel this afternoon. The company did their homework when they started thinking about buying the place. Maybe somebody was upset when the place changed hands.”

“And maybe it’s the wrath of the O’Donovans that John Byrne called down upon his head—the ghosts are still regrettin’ they let the place go.”

Maura had to smile. Sean was seldom fanciful. “I thought they hadn’t owned it for years?” she said, placing his coffee in front of him.

“Oh, a century or more. Truth to tell, I’d have a better time investigatin’ whether one of them rock stars who played here back a few years was outbid by Byrne’s company and looked to get him out of the way.”

“I suppose it’s possible. But that list of Helen’s could help. She said she’d give me a copy as soon as she got it printed out. I’ll pass it on to you. I wish I could help you more, Sean. It sounds like you’ve covered most of the bases. Helen said her meeting this afternoon was going to be between JBCo and the senior staff at the hotel. They want to kick around ideas about where to go from here, starting with whether to keep Crann Mor or cut their losses now. Nothing’s settled yet, though.”

“Will they hold on to the place and run it, do yeh think?”

Maura shook her head. “I can’t say. I honestly think they don’t know yet. Helen thought they could sell it again without losing money, but they don’t seem to be in any hurry to do that. Maybe there are other issues.”

“The bottom line’s not just the money, then?”

Maura hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe not.” But what else could there be? Maybe Helen could fill her in about the early discussions about buying the place if she’d been part of them. But it sounded to her like John Byrne had told people only what he wanted them to know. “What happens next?” Maura asked.

“We keep talkin’ to people. There’s plenty of staff, and they have different schedules, so it might be somebody saw something but had the next day or two off and hasn’t told us yet. Mebbe some staff will remember something they didn’t think was important the first time we talked to them. Helen’s lists might give us some more names.”

“I went out after lunch and looked at where John Byrne fell. Tell me this, if you can: If the man was killed there, do you think it was planned or somebody just grabbed the chance?”

“Some part of it had to be planned, else why would Byrne and his killer be there at all?”

“True. Hard to just accidentally bump into someone on a dark path in the woods. Was it a meeting there, or did someone leave the hotel with him? Or follow him?”

Sean sighed. “Maura, I can’t tell yeh what I don’t know. If yeh’ve seen the place now, yeh’ll know there’s not much hope for evidence. The path is paved, and there’ve been gardeners tidying up the grounds, which they do often. Are we callin’ in some great forensic expert from Dublin and askin’ if he can look at Byrne’s shoes and tell us exactly where he’d been in the last few days? No, for there’s nothin’ about this case that deserves that kind of attention, time, or expense. The simplest answer is that the man slipped and fell. Yeh can say that someone might have helped him fall, and we’re doin’ our best to look into that, but we’ve no motive and no witnesses and no evidence, beyond the man’s body itself.”

“I’m sorry, Sean. It must be frustrating. If I hear anything useful, I’ll let you know.” Not that she expected the people who came into the pub to know anything more than the gardaí.

Sean drained his coffee. “Right, I’ve got to be headin’ back fer Skibbereen now.”

“Before you go . . .” Maura began, then stopped, not sure what she was trying to say. “It’s about your sergeant. He’s the one who wants this to be murder, right?”

“That’s what he’s used to seein’,” Sean agreed. “I guess yeh see what yeh want to see. But I can’t say he’s wrong either.”

“I haven’t talked to him much, but I have to wonder if his attitude is going to make people around here clam up instead of telling him what he needs to know.”

“His attitude or the fact that he’s not one of us?” Sean asked.

“Does that really matter? I mean, I’m an outsider, and people talk to me.”

“Yes, but we know who yer people are, or were. That matters. And if we know yer people, we know who they knew as well. Do yeh see what I’m getting’ at?”

“I think so. It’s about the connections, isn’t it?” When Sean nodded, Maura went on, “So if Sergeant Ryan saw a drug dealer in town, he’d recognize him for what he was, but if you introduced him to one or another O’Donovan in Leap, he wouldn’t know where they fit.”

“That’s it. Of course, if yeh join the gardaí, there’s nothin’ to say you’ll be posted back home. You could serve anywhere in the country. But servin’ in a city with a lot of crime and servin’ in a small station like Skibbereen are two different animals.”

“Can he adapt, do you think?”

Sean considered for a moment. “If he wants, I’d say. He might come to see the good side of it. At least fewer thugs will try to kill him here.”

“There is that,” Maura agreed.

“I’d best be on my way. Keep yer ears open.” Sean stood up and dropped some coins in the bar.

“You know I will. And good luck!” Maura called out to his retreating back.