Mick materialized behind her. “So he’s no farther along?”

“No, he’s not.” Maura pivoted to face him. “Do you think the case will stay open forever? Like that last case in Schull? Or at some point do the gardaí label it an accident and close the file? And how long do they wait?”

Mick shrugged. “I’ve no idea. But no matter what, yeh’ve still got the question before yeh: What happens with the hotel?”

“I can ask Helen. She may know more later today—her people were having an all-hands meeting this afternoon with the staff at the hotel, and maybe they’ll have a better idea after that.”

Late in the afternoon, Seamus came in with some friends, and they settled at their favorite corner table. Seamus approached the bar to collect their pints. “Have we a winner yet?” he asked Maura, grinning.

“Let’s say we’ve eliminated a few, but there’s no horse leading the pack yet. Do you have a cutoff date for your pool?”

“We’ll give it a few more days.”

“If you’re all wrong, do I get the pot?”

Seamus laughed heartily. “Mebbe we’ll set up a fund for future rounds here. Would that suit yeh?”

“It might. I’ll let you know if I get any news, but don’t hold your breath. Sean Murphy was in just a while ago, and he had nothing new to say.”

She slid four pints across the bar to him, and with skill born of much practice, he carried them over to his mates in the corner without spilling a drop.

The men didn’t stay long, claiming farm chores and wives and kids waiting at home. Helen arrived around six and took a stool at the bar; from her expression, Maura guessed she had no secrets to share. “Can I get you something?”

“Coffee, I guess. I’m driving, and I don’t want to find myself in trouble with the law for drink driving.”

“How’d your meeting go?”

“Better than I’d hoped, I guess. There are some good people on the existing staff, and they’ve done a respectable job of running the place over the past few years with little guidance. Of course they’d like to keep their jobs, but I think they also care about how things are done, and they’re proud of the results. I think they’d be on board with the changes we’ve suggested.”

“Is that enough to convince you to keep the place open?”

“Not by itself, but it does matter. There are definitely things I’d like to see changed, but those aren’t deal-breakers. You have to remember that the decision’s not up to me. I can only make a recommendation to the investors. Oh, I brought you the lists I promised you—I thought I’d save you the trip.” Helen reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a large manila envelope. “I hope this helps.”

“Can I share this with the gardaí?”

“Go right ahead—there are two copies in there. There’s nothing confidential. In fact, they’ll probably recognize a lot of the people on the lists because most of them seem to come from this area, and many have been there for years. I was somewhat surprised not to see more immigrant names on it, at least among some of kitchen or cleaning staff.”

“You sound very American. Around here when there’s a job open, people think of their relatives first and friends next. Not that they’d put forward someone who wasn’t right for the job, because they have to live with the results. It’s a small community.”

“I’m coming to appreciate that. You know, it’s not what I pictured.”

“West Cork? Skibbereen? The townlands?”

“Any of it. I’d seen Dublin, but clearly that’s not typical. Your area is very different.”

Helen looked tired, Maura thought. “Anything else come out of your meeting?”

Helen sighed. “It’s no surprise that the people who work at the hotel want things to go on, preferably just the way they have for the past few years. But our investors usually demand a higher return on their investment than Crann Mor is producing.”

That didn’t sound promising. “What’re the employees like as a group?”

“I’m not sure what you’re looking for, Maura. If I was writing a report, I’d say they range in age from their twenties to their sixties. Mostly local with limited ethnic diversity, but you just told me that’s typical for this region. Not a high level of education. And a lot of them are related to each other.”

“Were there people from outside this area on staff?”

“A few foreigners, mostly kitchen staff and housekeeping. Frankly, the whole atmosphere felt kind of like an overgrown bed-and-breakfast. It was clean and pretty and comfortable, and everybody was very kind and cheerful and helpful.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Maura, you asked for my impressions, and I’m telling you what I thought.” Helen was beginning to look annoyed. “Nice people, apparently working hard. Just not very polished.”

Maura felt her own frustration beginning to simmer. “Then what did John Byrne see in it? And who did he think would want to come and stay here?”

Helen shook her head. “I still don’t know. I’ll admit that I have to adjust my sights a bit. It’s kind of a Catch-22. If I upgrade the place to meet the standards of most of our company’s holdings, then the guests will be isolated in their little luxury bubble.”

Maura completed Helen’s thought. “And that would make it like any other big-name hotel, except when you look out the window, you’ll see cows, green fields, and maybe a rainbow if you’re lucky. Otherwise it could be anywhere. Why did John Byrne want it?”

Helen sighed. “Maura, I have no idea what John saw in this place. John didn’t share his reasons, but he’d usually been right about his acquisitions before, so we followed his lead. Now that he’s gone, we have to decide whether it fits the consortium’s needs.”

“So sell it to somebody who wants that kind of thing. Like you said, your company could cut its losses and never look back. What’s it to you?”

Helen seemed to deflate before Maura’s eyes. “God help me, I don’t know. I started out thinking that I respected John’s business skills, and if he saw something here, he knew what he was doing. I thought if I looked hard enough, I’d see it too. But he’s gone, and I haven’t found it. Could I get a glass of wine? Something white?”

“Sure,” Maura said, standing up. She welcomed the break. She stalked over to the bar. “Rose, can you give me a glass of the Chardonnay?”

“Fer yer ma? Looks like things aren’t goin’ so well,” Rose said, reaching for a glass and a bottle.

“I don’t have a clue where they’re going.”

Rose filled the glass and slid it across the bar. “Thanks, Rose,” Maura said and went back to the table. When she’d sat down again, she said, “Nobody’s forcing your group to keep the place. Maybe it would make a good mental hospital or a government office.”

Helen looked blankly at Maura for a few beats, then laughed. “Oh, you’re joking. Aren’t you?”

Maura shrugged. “All I know is, it won’t affect my business here. I told you once before: the people who come in here are local farmers, shopkeepers, tourists in the summer, and lately, music fans. We give them drink and good craic. No frills.”

“Crack?” Helen cocked an eyebrow.

Helen really didn’t know her Irish market, it seemed. “Talk. Fun. Friendship. You know that old show in the States—Cheers? And the theme song? ‘Where they’re always glad you came’? That kind of feeling. It’s comfortable.”

“Ah. Do you know, Maura, you’re doing the same thing I do but on a very different level. Please don’t take that as a put-down. You know your clientele. You know the strengths of this place. You don’t try to fancy things up; you simply give people what they want. You may try new things—like the music—but if it doesn’t work, you don’t lose your shirt. You’ve got the right idea.”

“Uh, thank you? I’m kind of making it up as I go.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. What you’ve got is common sense, and you’re willing to learn, and to listen to people. And, I’d guess, willing to ask for help and ask questions if you think you need to. You’d be surprised how rare that is.”

“Well, apply that to your place. Who do you want for customers? I’d bet it’s not the same as for the people who stay at your Dublin hotel.”

“And you’d probably be right.” Helen drained her glass quickly. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I want to sleep on this and talk to some of my own staff members back in the States, get them to look at our overall portfolio. They may not want to be flexible about this, but it might be worth it to try to persuade them.”

“If you decide you want to keep the place,” Maura said. “Have you?”

When Helen finally answered, she seemed to have changed direction. “You know, when I married your father, Tom, I knew he was a farm boy, but I had no idea what that really meant. From what he said, he and his family didn’t get into town much, much less go to Cork or Dublin. When he felt nostalgic, it was the home farm he’d talk about, the people he knew back here. I was always amazed how often Tom found connections in Boston, even four degrees removed. You know, one guy knew the man who’d sold this other man the boat he used for fishing, and that man had sold the fish to a third man, whose sister ran a restaurant in town. That kind of thing.”

Maura had to smile. “You’ve got that right. I’ve given up trying to figure out how they all do it, so I just listen and admire it. It’s simplest to say that everybody knows everybody else—or at least a relative, which is good enough.”

“Do you feel like you fit in here, Maura?”

Helen appeared to be serious, and Maura didn’t want to give her a flippant answer. “It bothered me when I got here that everybody knew so much about me and I didn’t know anything about them. But I guess I’ve come around, and now I appreciate it. It makes a difference that people accept me here. Welcome me, actually. Otherwise, I might have been on the next plane back to Boston.”

“You’re lucky. Your grandmother did right by you, I think, sending you here. She knew you’d need this kind of support. And don’t tell me you’re independent, because that’s obvious. But everybody needs other people in their lives, whether they’re family, friends, or lovers. You’re lucky to have that. I wish I’d understood that better when I was your age.”

“So do I,” Maura said softly.

As Helen got up to leave, Maura remembered Harvard. “You didn’t get a chance to call Harvard today, did you?”

“Sorry, no. It’s been a busy day. The meeting ate up the afternoon, and now it’s too late. I’ll do it first thing in the morning. Good night, Maura.” After an awkward pause, Helen laid her hand on Maura’s arm, then turned and left.

Why do I feel so sad? Maura asked herself before pulling out her cell phone and calling Sean Murphy.

He answered after two rings. “Maura, have you something new?”

“Helen just dropped off that list she was talking about, and she made a copy for you. You want to come pick it up? Or I can drop it off in the morning.”

“We’re starvin’ for any new facts—I’ll stop by now if that suits yeh.”

“Fine. See you soon.” Maura opened the envelope and scanned the list, but the names didn’t mean much to her. The surnames were familiar, of course, because a lot of people shared them around Skibbereen. The cover page was a summary of staffing numbers year to year without names attached, and it was kind of interesting to see how many people worked behind the scenes in a large hotel, even one that wasn’t up to the snooty standard of JBCo.

Was there anything about the state of the hotel or its staff that could have led to John Byrne’s death? Why had he been interested in a place that was so far outside his usual standard? It was hard to imagine that anyone who worked at Crann Mor could see any advantage to killing the man—he hadn’t been acting on his own but for his investors, who without John to defend the place would be likely to turn around and sell it again. But how could it be something personal?

Maura shook her head. She simply did not have enough information to work with. Time to consult her secret resource: Old Billy, who knew more about who was who in West Cork than anyone else. Maybe he’d see something she hadn’t. She made her way over to where he sat; he looked like an old dog, dozing in front of the fire, but she knew there was little he missed. He opened his eyes when she approached. “Yeh’ve had a busy day, Maura Donovan.”

“Yes, and a confusing one. Too much information and not enough. Or maybe just not the right kind. Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course yeh may. I’m happy to help. What do yeh need?”

“Helen brought me a list of employees at the hotel for the past few years. If you’ve been listening, you know Sean and the gardaí have been through the current employee list and found nobody who had any connection to John Byrne, much less wanted him dead. I got to wondering if maybe there was someone who worked there a while back, who might have been fired or something, who might have a grudge.”

“And yer askin’ if I’d take a look at the names and see if anyone jumps out? I’m glad to, but I’ve had little to do with the grand hotel in the past. Will yeh let me take it home wit’ me so I can read it over me supper?”

“Sure. Helen gave me a second copy for Sean, and he’s coming by to pick it up soon. It doesn’t really mean anything to me. I’m hoping you can do better.”

“I’ll do me best, but me memory’s not what it once was,” Billy said.

“Ha! You remember more about local history and families than the rest of Leap combined. But I won’t be disappointed if nothing clicks for you.”

Maura helped him out of his chair, wondering if it was time to get at least a new seat cushion. His favorite chair seemed to get lower every time she looked. Once Billy was up, she handed him a copy of the list and escorted him to the door. She watched as he made his slow way to his place at the far end of the building.