Murder on an Irish Farm

A Charming Irish Cozy Mystery

Carlene O'Connor

• Publisher: Kensington Cozies
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN:
  9781496730800
• eBook ISBN:
  9781496730862
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Crime & Mystery Literature
• Index: Literature

In this enchanting new read in the fan-favorite series from a USA Today bestselling author, garda of County Cork, Ireland, Siobhán O’Sullivan and Macdaras Flannery, are about to get married at last. But just as the rowdy O’Sullivan brood and all the regulars of the local bistro have gathered at the church, the nuptials come to an abrupt halt when the discovery of an unidentified skeleton puts the wedding on pause…

If only her mother could be here! The entire O’Sullivan brood—not to mention the regulars from Naomi’s Bistro—have gathered at St. Mary’s Church for the wedding of Siobhán and Macdara. It’s not every day you see two garda marrying each other. Only Siobhán’s brother James is missing. They can’t start without him.
 
But when James finally comes racing in, he’s covered in dirt and babbling he’s found a human skeleton in the old slurry pit at the farmhouse. What farmhouse? Macdara sheepishly admits he was saving it as a wedding surprise: he purchased an abandoned dairy farm. Duty calls, so the engaged garda decide to put the wedding on hold to investigate.
 
James leads them to a skeleton clothed in rags that resemble a tattered tuxedo. As an elderly neighbor approaches, she cries out that these must be the remains of her one true love who never showed up on their wedding day, fifty years ago. The garda have a cold case on their hands, which heats up the following day when a fresh corpse appears on top of the bridegroom’s bones. With a killer at large, they need to watch their backs—or the nearly wedded couple may be parted by death before they’ve even taken their vows. . .
 
“Fans of charming Irish mysteries will delight in the ways this convoluted case ensnares the heroine and her supporting cast.”
—Kirkus Reviews

 

Chapter 1

The big day was here, June 16 at half nine in the morning, in the village of Kilbane, County Cork, Ireland, where it seemed the entire town had flocked to Saint Mary’s, the gorgeous collegiate church with the five-light windows, to witness and celebrate the marriage of Detective Sergeant Macdara Flannery and Garda Siobhán O’Sullivan. And what a grand day it was: the sun was shining down on them, and the forecast was more of the same. Given their reception was going to be held outdoors at the remains of the Dominican priory, or “the abbey,” as most folks in Kilbane called it, Siobhán couldn’t have asked for a better day. A day that took ages planning, and loads of money would pass in the blink of an eye, but would be remembered and celebrated for the rest of their lives. I do. He would say it; she would say it. Siobhán O’Sullivan and Macdara Flannery would be wed in less than an hour. The Mister and Missus, Herself and Himself, the wedded bliss, the old ball and chain. Then why did it not feel real?

“Hold still,” Gráinne said, jerking Siobhán’s head back and tightening her grip on Siobhán’s auburn locks. Siobhán would have regretted allowing Gráinne to fix her up, but even the regret was futile; saying “no” would have meant years of resentment from her younger, stylish sister. The dressing room in Saint Mary’s was suffocating, and Gráinne had every inch crammed with sprays, brushes, gels, tweezers, perfumes, patches, and pins. It was a full-on beauty assault.

The emerald tiara given to Siobhán by her siblings was on top of her head and secured with so many pins Siobhán was half expecting to receive incoming messages from alien spacecrafts. She was probably going to have a mad headache before the day was done, but it was a stunning addition to her attire, and although the emeralds in the tiara were not real, the one in her engagement ring was, and so were the studs shining from her ears. They had belonged to her mam, Naomi O’Sullivan. Something borrowed. And tucked into her bodice was a blue pin her father, Liam, had worn as a member of his hobby club collecting and trading model trains. Something blue. This way her parents were with her in spirit, and she knew they were looking down from heaven, and surely, they were thrilled with the union. Siobhán O’Sullivan had made a lot of mistakes in her young life, and would continue to do so, but Macdara Flannery would never be one of them.

“It doesn’t feel real.”

She felt a sharp pinch on the back of her arm and yelped. Gráinne laughed. “How’s it feel now, pet?”

Siobhán shook her head and stared at herself in the mirror, feeling beautiful but wondering if the cosmetics were a little too much. She was terrified to ask her sister to ease up. She couldn’t afford to get into a row. “Make sure he still recognizes me when you’re done.” She smiled to soften the message in case Gráinne took the comment as a first strike.

“You’ll look so good, he’ll marry you anyway,” Gráinne replied. “Now sit still.”

Siobhán sighed, looked at her eyes illuminated by dark lashes and eyeliner and shadow. They did look stunning, even if they belonged to someone else, someone with an affinity for glamour. Gráinne was trying to turn Siobhán into a version of herself. Siobhán’s hair was in curls and piled on top her head, with tendrils hanging down. She wasn’t even wearing her wedding dress yet, and already the corset and tights alone were cutting into her skin. Perhaps they should have eloped after all. A short ceremony in a comfortable dress, with a stop at the chipper, and she would have been happy out.

“Woah,” said Ann, the youngest O’Sullivan girl, as she careened into the tiny room, her emerald dress swirling around her heels as she came to an abrupt stop. “Would you look at dat.” Siobhán was thinking the same thing about Ann as they studied each other in the mirror through their heavily made-up eyes. Three beautiful women. Ann with her stylish blond bob, Gráinne with dark, shiny locks fashionably straightened, and Siobhán the redhead—although technically, her hair was auburn. But it was Ann that Siobhán couldn’t look away from. She looked way too beautiful and womanly for a girl just shy of sixteen. Siobhán had an irrational urge to take a wet cloth and wipe away all the make-up on Ann’s young face. But if she did, there would be war.

“You look lovely,” Siobhán said to Ann instead.

“You look . . . woah,” Ann replied.

“You’re both gorgeous,” Gráinne said. “You’re welcome.”

Siobhán turned to Ann. “Was that a good ‘woah’ or a bad ‘woah’?”

Ann shrugged. “I dunno.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “Just messin’. You look gorgeous. I don’t even recognize ya!”

Siobhán closed her eyes and imagined what life would be like without siblings. Bliss. Gráinne pinched Siobhán again until she opened her eyes, then Gráinne tilted her sister’s head back as she loomed over her. “Do you think you need a touch more eye shadow?”

“No,” Siobhán and Ann said in unison. Noise filtered in from the church, the murmurs of friends and family. Maria and Aisling, her maid of honor and bridesmaid (along with Gráinne and Ann), were dressed and in the church, helping to usher people in. The bridesmaid dresses were a lovely shade of emerald green, and the groomsmen—Macdara had asked her brothers to do the honor—would all have matching bowties.

Siobhán’s stomach tingled, and a smile broke out on her face. It spread to Gráinne and Ann. Siobhán held out a hand to each sister, and soon all hands were clasped, squeezing and bonding. It was a mental snapshot Siobhán knew she’d remember the rest of her life, the three O’Sullivan lasses grinning like eejits in the mirror. Ann stuck out her tongue again, and tears welled in Siobhán’s eyes.

“Don’t you dare start the waterworks,” Gráinne said. “You’ll ruin my artistry.”

“Right, so.” Siobhán took a deep breath and thought about non-sentimental things. Who was at the garda station right now? Their newest member, Garda Aretta Dabiri, would look after things. It was astounding how quickly she was turning out to be a valuable member of the garda family. Aretta planned on popping in at some point during the ceremony to share in the good wishes and enjoy some food and drink from the reception. Why did it feel like there was someone they’d forgotten to invite? This time when Siobhán’s stomach tightened, it was from worry.

“Let’s get you into that dress,” Gráinne said. “It’s nearly showtime.”

It did feel a bit like a show, one where Siobhán was worried she was going to flub her lines. Siobhán stood as Gráinne and Ann reached for the dress. It had been a special order, a creamy satin dress that had come close to Siobhán’s liking, then had been transformed by their dear friend Bridie into something out of a fairy tale. She had removed the sleeves so it wrapped around Siobhán’s shoulders, revealing more cleavage than Siobhán usually flashed, but nothing that would incite chins to wag. The bodice was framed in tiny white pearls, and the bottom of the dress flared out in a tulle skirt. A lovely emerald satin ribbon would cinch her at the waist. As she prepared to step into it, Siobhán felt the moment in her bones, the absolute joy of the here and now. She could hear her da’s voice, feel his hug: I love the bones of ya.

I love you too, Da. I know you’re with me. . . .

“I swear on me grave, I’ll box you in the ears if you start the waterworks,” Gráinne said.

Siobhán bit her lip and nodded.

“You can cry all you like after the photos are taken.”

Photos. The photographer. She’d nearly forgotten all about him. “Has he arrived?” she asked.

“I’ll check,” Ann said.

“Help me squeeze her into the dress first,” Gráinne said.

“Squeeze me?” Siobhán said. “There’s no need to be squeezing me.” She’d stayed away from curried chips and sugar for an entire month. Her sisters each held a side, and Siobhán stepped into the dress. They gracefully pulled it up and zipped it up, and as she’d attested, there was no squeezing to be done. They twirled her around, and for a moment even Gráinne was speechless. Gráinne reached for the long veil that would attach to the back of the tiara. Siobhán was nearly giddy with adrenaline as it was securely attached. Gráinne and Ann spread the veil behind her, then stepped away to have a look.

“Gorgeous,” they all three said in unison.

Ann whirled around and zipped out of the room. Siobhán bit her lip and thought of horrible, horrible things to keep her eyewater from leaking. She turned and picked up the bouquet of wildflowers sourced by the local shop and dressed up with white roses and baby’s breath with an emerald ribbon. They were sublime. Everything was absolutely picture-perfect.

“I’m ready,” Siobhán said with a nod to Gráinne and with more confidence than she felt. “Tell everyone I’m ready.”

A few minutes later, Ann skidded back into the room and looked everywhere but directly at Siobhán.

“What?” Siobhán said as her heart fluttered with a tinge of worry. “Is it the photographer?”

“No, he’s here,” Ann said. “He wants to know if you want some shots of you getting ready.”

“I’m ready,” she said. “I’m already ready.”

“I could start all over,” Gráinne said with boundless enthusiasm.

Siobhán shook her head. They were acting squirrely. “What is going on?”

“It’s James,” Ann said.

“James? What about James?” The eldest of the O’Sullivan Six. He’d been a bit mopey lately, since breaking up with his fiancée, Elise, and moving back from Waterford. He’d thrown himself into a new job, working as an apprentice with a few lads who restored old homes. It sounded like a fascinating job, and she was dying to hear more about it, but he’d been impossible to pin down for a chat.

“He’s probably on his way,” Gráinne said.

“On his way?” Siobhán could hear the panic in her voice. “He’s not here?” She did not want to be browned off on her wedding day, especially with her older brother.

Gráinne held up her mobile. “I’ve left a million messages.”

Nervous looks were exchanged among the sisters. James was a recovering alcoholic. But he’d been sober for years. He wouldn’t choose Siobhán’s wedding day to relapse, would he? Not that addiction was a choice. And he’d suffered a breakup. Now he was supposed to celebrate love. Was that why he’d made himself scarce lately? What if he wasn’t working at all? Had he been drinking for days, and Siobhán hadn’t been paying attention?

“Father Kearney is pacing,” Ann said. “He said to remind you he’s on a tight schedule.”

“I see.” Father Kearney had warned them he had a busy summer. There had been quite a bit of back-and-forth about the wedding date, and when this slot had finally opened up, he had let them know in no uncertain terms that they would be on a tight schedule. A baptism was scheduled as soon as the ceremony was finished. And they had assured him they would respect that. She could not start her marriage off by breaking a promise to the parish priest. Siobhán gathered her dress and headed for the door.

“What are you doing?” Gráinne said, literally throwing herself in front of Siobhán.

“I’m going out there.”

“You can’t see Macdara before the walk up the aisle.”

Siobhán stopped. “Don’t be silly. We make our own luck. And it’s nearly time for the ceremony.”

Just then the door flew open, and her brother Eoin stepped in, looking handsome in his tux. Behind him the youngest O’Sullivan, Ciarán, clad in an adorable tux of his own—he was getting so tall—was clutching a violin and sweating profusely. He was going to play a song for the wedding. Siobhán wasn’t thrilled about it; the last time she had heard him play, it had sounded like cats falling from trees.

Eoin looked at Siobhán and gave a nod. “Not the worst-looking bride I’ve ever seen,” he said with a wink.

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a gentle shove.

“James isn’t here, Father Kearney is ready to bolt, and Macdara wants to know what you want to do.” Eoin’s words came out in a rush; unlike Gráinne’s and Ann’s hemming and hawing, he seemed to believe that bad news should be delivered in a single breath.

Siobhán gathered her dress. “Let’s start the wedding.”

“Without James?” her siblings asked in unison.

Siobhán stared at the faces of her brood, feeling the pressure to make the right decision. “I take it everyone has been trying to reach him?”

“We’ve all called him,” Gráinne said. “And texted. He’s not answering.”

“We’ve given him long enough.” She had no control over this. It was not her fault, and maybe it wasn’t his fault either, but there was nothing to be done. Later they would drink champagne, clink glasses, and laugh about how James had missed one of the biggest days of her life. “It’s grand. It’s grand, it’s grand, it’s grand.”

“The more you say that, the less I believe it,” Gráinne said.

Eoin stepped forward. “I can walk you down the aisle.”

As the oldest male, James had agreed to walk Siobhán down the aisle. A flicker of doubt gnawed at her. He wouldn’t miss this. He wouldn’t.

“I’ll tell the organist to start.” Eoin whirled around and tapped Ciarán on the shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Ciarán nodded, swallowed, then looked at Siobhán. “You look really beautiful,” he said.

Gráinne poked her in the side. “Do. Not. Cry.”

Siobhán took a deep breath, then bit the side of her lip. Showtime.

Chapter 2

Siobhán stood at the end of the aisle and gazed at Macdara, who, hands clasped nervously in front of him, stood next to Father Kearney. The husband and wife-to-be locked eyes. He was stunningly handsome in his tuxedo, his sky-blue eyes pinned on her, his usually messy hair carefully combed, his lopsided smile doing double time, making her heart dance in her chest, infusing her insides with bliss. He grinned, and she grinned back. Gorgeous, he mouthed, sending more pinpricks of joy rolling through her. Nearby she could hear the photographer clicking and flashing away. The pews were decorated with lovely white and emerald ribbons, and an emerald runner dotted with white rose petals lined the path. The organ began with a hymn, joined by the violin. All heads turned as Ciarán played. This time, it did not sound like cats falling from trees. He must have been practicing for ages. It was pitch perfect. Hands found their way to hearts as white tissues popped out of handbags and the sniffling began in earnest. Siobhán bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. She wished Gráinne were here to pinch her. Before she knew it, the waterworks broke through, and wetness rolled down the sides of Siobhán’s face.

Stop it, stop it, stop it. No more crying. Please stop crying. Think horrible thoughts again. Droughts. Misfortunes. Missing brothers.

She felt Eoin’s arm tighten in hers. “Hold it together, luv.” “Should I have waited for James?” she whispered. How could they do this without him? Why wasn’t he here?

From down the aisle, Macdara’s smile faltered. He looked worried. About James? Her bridesmaids finished their procession, and they took their places up front. The melodic wedding march began, and as Siobhán and Eoin proceeded up the aisle, Siobhán took in all the friendly faces. Bridie gave her a bright smile; Annmarie waved. Mike Granger from the fruit and veg shop gave her a nod and a wink. Macdara’s mammy, Nancy Flannery, sat in the front row, looking only at her son. Siobhán nearly laughed out loud. The golden boy. Hopefully, Nancy Flannery wouldn’t object to the wedding. When Siobhán reached Macdara, she handed her bouquet to Gráinne. Eoin kissed Siobhán on the cheek and stepped to the side of Macdara; then Ciarán slipped in next to Eoin. On the other side, Maria, Aisling, Gráinne, and Ann outnumbered the groomsmen, but no one was counting. The music stopped, and Father Kearney cleared his throat. Macdara smiled, took Siobhán’s hands and squeezed them. The tears in Macdara’s eyes made her waterworks threaten to start all over again.

She leaned in. “Think of horrible, horrible things. That’s all I’ve been doing all morning.” Macdara’s laugh rumbled out of him and warmed her insides.

“I’ll take any horrible thing that comes my way,” Macdara whispered in her ear. “As long as you’re by my side.”

“That does it for the vows, then,” Siobhán whispered.

Macdara laughed again, until a look from Father Kearney silenced the pair.

Onc...

Table of contents

• Also by
• Title Page
• Table of Contents
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Acknowledgments
• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Chapter 20
• Chapter 21
• Chapter 22
• Chapter 23
• Chapter 24
• Chapter 25
• Chapter 26
• Chapter 27
• Chapter 28
• Chapter 29
• Chapter 30
• Chapter 31
• Chapter 32
• Chapter 33
• Chapter 34
• Teaser chapter