“I’ll drive—my car’s closer,” Maura told Mick. He didn’t protest.

“How do yeh plan to find the man?” he asked.

“Uh, look around outside the hotel? That’s where he works and has for decades. I talked to him once a couple of days ago, so I’d recognize him.”

“And why is it you’ve landed on him as a suspect, all at once?” Mick asked as they walked toward Maura’s car.

“It’s only a theory, but here’s what I’ve been thinking.” Maura outlined the story that she’d strung together on her way to Leap. Mick didn’t interrupt but listened carefully. “You think I’m totally off base?” she said finally.

Mick took a moment before answering. “I think it’s worth askin’ him about it. Though yeh’ll have made an enemy or two if yeh’re wrong.”

“I know, and I don’t want to do that. But isn’t it better coming from me than from a garda? If I’m wrong, I’m the only one he’ll be angry at. And I don’t want to mess up other people’s lives—Siobhan’s, her daughter’s—based on my theory.”

“What is it yeh want me to do? Hide behind a bush?”

“No, just be there. You don’t happen to know Bernard, do you? I mean, he hasn’t ever been a regular at the pub or something?”

“I don’t recall that I’ve met the man. Did yeh ask Billy about him?”

“Not about this. Billy told me about where he fit in the bigger picture and how he came to marry Siobhan. You think I should now?”

Mick stopped walking, so Maura was forced to stop and looked up at him. “Yeh’re in a hurry, aren’t yeh?” he asked.

“I guess I am. John Byrne’s been dead for five days now. We’ve learned a lot about his history and maybe why he was here, but I still don’t know who could have killed him or why. And now there’s this new garda sergeant who’s pushy and probably wants to start his time here off with a bang, and I don’t trust him not to make things worse. And for myself, I’d really like to get this cleared up so Helen and I can have some time just to chill out and get to know each other a bit without all these questions hanging over our heads. So I guess you could say I’m in a hurry.”

“Fair enough. So, if this Bernard tells yeh yeh’re daft, what will yeh do?”

“Apologize and walk away, I guess.”

“This is still about yer mother, is it not?”

He was being annoying, but he was probably right. “In a way. All these things—John’s death, my mother being here—are all tangled together. But it’s not just about me. Siobhan and Ellen deserve to know what happened to John and what’s going to happen with the hotel and their jobs, and that’s all bogged down in finding out why John Byrne is dead.”

“Will this chat with Bernard be the end of it, then?” Mick asked.

“I don’t know! I’m making this up as I go. I don’t have any more ideas, so I’ll have to leave it to the gardaí. Would you be happier if I left you here on the sidewalk and talked to Bernard by myself?”

Mick turned to face her. “Don’t. Please. I couldn’t forgive myself if somethin’ happened to you.”

Maura felt a spurt of shame: she hadn’t given any thought to how he might feel. Did he really believe that Bernard would attack her? She really was bad with this relationship stuff. “Oh. Well, thanks for backing me up.” Maura wished she had a moment to chew on what he had just said, but she wanted to get to the hotel and find Bernard. They had reached her car, so they climbed in and started for Skibbereen. A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of the main building at Crann Mor. There was no one in sight and no cars—business must be slow.

“The gardens are out back,” she told Mick, “and there’s the path where John died that leads from behind the building toward the lake. Might as well go around.”

“Right.” Mick followed Maura as she skirted the building and walked into the formal garden.

Maura breathed a sigh of relief: Bernard was there on his knees, weeding the flower beds. There were flats of plants next to him, ready to bloom. He looked up as she approached and then stood a bit stiffly, his expression wary. “Maura Donovan, is it? Were yeh lookin’ fer somethin’?”

“Yes, Bernard—you. I wanted to talk with you. This is Mick Nolan, a . . . friend of mine.” The two men nodded at each other silently. Then Mick retreated a short distance and sat on a low stone wall, watching.

“Can we sit then?” Bernard asked. “Me knees aren’t what they used to be. What is it yeh’re wantin’ to talk about?”

“John Byrne.”

“I’ve told you what I know. And the gardaí as well.”

“Have you? I’m wondering if there’s more,” Maura said. “Please, sit down.” She wanted to use the time it took to get settled to gather her thoughts. Of course, that gave Bernard the time to gather his own.

When they were arrayed on a long curved bench, Maura began. “You’re married to Siobhan Buckley, right?”

Bernard nodded. “I am that, three years come summer. Yeh’ve met her, then?”

“I have. And her daughter, Ellen. Siobhan told me you’d waited a long time to marry her.” Maura wondered if that was too personal to mention to someone she barely knew and was relieved when he answered her.

“I did. I’d known her since she started workin’ here and before. What’s that got to do wit’ anything?”

“I know this is very personal, but did she tell you about Ellen’s father?”

Bernard didn’t answer right away but held his eyes steady on hers. He looked sad. “It were her secret fer a long time, but she wanted to be straight with me, and so many years have passed . . . She still hasn’t told Ellen.”

Too late now; Ellen knew. But Maura didn’t need to tell Bernard that. “Were you surprised when John Byrne showed up here?”

“I was. I knew some big company had bought this place a while back, but nothin’ changed fer a time. And then these people show up, all high and mighty, and start talkin’ about what they wanted to do with the place.”

“Were you worried about your job?”

He shrugged. “I can’t say that I was, not at first. I’ve taken good care of the place fer a long time now, even after that fancy garden designer came and went, so they can see what I’ve done laid out in front of them.”

“Did you meet John Byrne then?”

Bernard sniffed. “He didn’t dirty his hands shakin’ with the likes of me. Not that I expected him to. He spoke to us all, gathered together, like, and then he spent a day or two, him and his people, lookin’ in corners and askin’ questions.”

“Did he visit the garden here?”

“Must’ve done, mustn’t he? He poked around everywhere else. Yeh have to go out this way if yeh’re inside the hotel and want to get to the lake and the other buildin’s down that way. If yeh don’t mind my askin’, why do yeh want to know all this?”

Maura gave him points for being polite, at least. She would have been angry by now at this kind of nosy treatment from a stranger. But she hadn’t learned anything new yet, and she hadn’t asked the hard questions. She had to keep going. Bernard sat silent as a stone, waiting.

She took a deep breath. “You told me you were the one who found his body, and you didn’t know why he would have been out here after it was dark.”

“That’s right.” Bernard nodded, his eyes wary.

“The gardaí didn’t find much evidence of the fall. No footprints and stuff.”

“The path’s paved, and there’s brush alongside it. It hadn’t rained much fer a few days. There’d be no footprints. Nothin’ to see.”

“Makes sense,” Maura said. Then she said carefully, “What if he didn’t die there, but someone killed him and dumped him there, hoping it would look like a fall? Did you see anything that would show that?”

“And what would that be?” Bernard asked.

“Extradeep footprints where they shouldn’t be, maybe, like somebody was carrying something heavy. Scuff marks like he was dragged. Or”—her gaze fell on a battered wheelbarrow not far away, holding more flats of flowers to be planted—“a wheelbarrow, which would leave a deep tire track unless somebody was very careful to stay on the paved parts of the path. That person would have had to know the place pretty well to know that path and stay on it in the dark with a heavy load.” Maura glanced briefly at Bernard, whose expression didn’t change. He wasn’t giving anything away.

Suddenly Maura was tired of beating around the bush. She had no patience left for this. “Bernard, I don’t know you. I’ve talked to your wife, and I’ve talked to Ellen. I don’t think they had anything to do with what happened, but maybe I’m a lousy judge of character. But let me just say this and get it over with. Were you involved with John Byrne’s death?”

Bernard was watching her carefully. “And why would I be?”

Not exactly a direct answer, but she hadn’t heard a no. “I can think of more than one reason.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “You’re trying to protect your wife, and maybe you were afraid John would accuse her of trying to shake him down for money—she told me he hadn’t known about Ellen until he got here. Or you say Ellen didn’t know he was her father—maybe you were trying to protect her. Or you wanted to keep your job. You wanted everything to stay as it had always been now that you’d married Siobhan. How’m I doing?”

“You’ve a sharp mind, Miss Donovan, but I think yeh might’ve missed a few.” He almost smiled.

Am I getting warm? “Okay, how about these? You saw Siobhan kill him, and you moved John’s body to try to cover it up. Or Ellen did it when he rejected her after she confronted him about being her father, and you wanted to protect her for Siobhan’s sake. How’s that?”

Bernard took his time answering. Finally he said, “I’m sure yeh mean well, but why should I say anythin’? I don’t see any gardaí here. I told them my tale at the start, and they’ve let me be since. Give it a rest, Miss Donovan. The man’s dead. I’m bettin’ the official report will say John Byrne fell down the hill and died, and the dent in his skull could have come from any one of those trees on the way down the hill or mebbe a rock. Yeh don’t know me, but others will tell yeh I’m not a violent man. I don’t drink, and I don’t get into fights. I do my job and go home to my wife every night, and I stay out of trouble. What do yeh want from me?”

Maura felt deflated. She’d thrown all her ideas at him, and he hadn’t bitten on any of them. Maybe she simply was wrong. Maybe she should go back and talk to Siobhan and Ellen again—maybe together this time. Or maybe she should just give up and get on with her life.

Mick stood and approached Bernard and Maura, then spoke up for the first time. “Bernard, there’s many people here at the hotel that might’ve had reason to want John Byrne gone. Mebbe not dead, but they might’ve wanted to send him home and get on with things. And there’s folk who don’t like to see changes. Yeh’ve done a grand job here from what I can see, and yeh’re right to be proud.”

“Nolan, if yeh’re trying to accuse me of murder, yeh’re wanderin’ all over the map.”

“Did yeh kill John Byrne?” Mick said bluntly.

The question hung in the air, and Maura found she was holding her breath. Bernard looked out over the garden, which even in early spring looked lovely and must have given him great satisfaction. It was the result of years of care. His late marriage to Siobhan was the result of years of patient courting. Maura realized she found it hard to picture this not-young man acting on the spur of the moment, much less with violence.

After a long silence, Bernard sighed. “I might’ve had a hand in it, but not the way yeh’re thinking. Will yeh listen?”

“Of course I will,” Maura said.

Bernard began slowly. “Did yeh meet the man?”

“Briefly,” Maura said, and Mick nodded. “Why?”

“Even a short meetin’ would tell yeh what kind of a man he was. Pushy. Cocky. It got him where he was. But he rubbed a lot of the people here the wrong way.”

“I felt the same way,” Maura said. “Like Sullivan’s was something he could buy and sell, not a real place with people.”

Bernard nodded. “He came out around nightfall to look at the gardens or maybe just to get some air. He saw me, and we got to talkin’. First thing he tells me is that he wanted to move the path around so it would be easier to get to the lake, and he wanted put it straight through the trees, and put in some pretty flower beds alongside. Yeh could tell he was a city boy and didn’t know his plants.”

And John hadn’t realized he was talking about trashing something that Bernard had cherished for years, Maura thought. “What did you do?”

“Kept me mouth shut. Nodded and smiled and said the right things. After all, he was just lookin’ around, see? There was still time to change his mind. So he strolled about fer a while, mostly talkin’ on his mobile phone.

“After a bit he calls me over. ‘Bernard, is it?’ he says. ‘It’s a beautiful place yeh’ve got here, but I’m thinkin’, mebbe it’s time to freshen it up.’ Or some fool thing like that. I said nothing because I was afraid if I opened me gob, the wrong thing would come out. Then he looks me in the eye and says, ‘Ye’re married to Siobhan Buckley, are yeh not?’ I nod, wonderin’ what he’s after. ‘She’s worked here for a good many years. And her daughter has as well, am I right?’ And I tell him that’s the truth. And I wait, fer I’m thinkin’ he’s still workin’ up to something. Then he goes, ‘Did Siobhan tell yeh that Ellen’s my daughter?’

“And I say, ‘Of course she did, years past. What of it?’

“‘She likes the job here, workin’ with her ma and all?’ he says.

“‘She does.’

“‘It’d be a shame if she was to lose that job, and her ma as well.’

“I look at him full on, and I say, ‘Are yeh tellin’ me that you’ll look after them if I go quietly?’

“‘Yeh’re a smart man, Bernard. I want to get this place off on the right foot. Siobhan’s not young, and I might like a prettier face at the front desk. I’ll admit yeh’ve done well with the garden, but yeh’re gettin’ on in years. Out of respect fer you and due to my connection with Siobhan, I’ll guarantee her job until she’s ready to go. And Ellen’s. But not yours. Do yeh catch my drift?’

“So he’s tellin’ me I’m fired, but Siobhan can stay on if she wants. I could find work at some other place, no worries, but Siobhan might want to stick by me if she learns how it come about. She knows how much this place has meant to me since I was a young lad. ‘Can I think on it?’ I ask the man. And he says, ‘No. This is a one-time offer.’”

“What did you do?” Maura asked softly.

“I was angry, wasn’t I? He’d put me between a rock and a hard place, and it didn’t sit right with me. I might have taken a step toward him, without thinking, to get in his face, and . . .”

“Did you hit him? Push him?” Maura asked.

Bernard shook his head. “I never touched him. He took a step back, not lookin’ where he was puttin’ his feet. So over there?” Bernard pointed to the far corner on the enclosed garden. “The man tripped on somethin’ in those silly fancy shoes of his, and he fell over backward. Can yeh see that pump in the corner? It’s iron—old, heavy—it’s there because it’s a handsome piece, not because it’s easy to get water from. The man hit his head on the handle as he fell, and that was all. I was over to him in seconds, but there was nothin’ to be done.”