Deadly Intent Read Online Free Page A

down a second offer of a lift home. As their neighbour was leaving, Sal gave her a big hug.
    â€˜Thanks
so
truly much,’ she said with a giggle. Their plans for the following night were clearly well-advanced. ‘Or what do they say in Spanish?
Muchas gracias, mi amiga
!’
    Fergus retreated and Nessa went upstairs to her son’s bedroom. At twelve years old, Ronan had a very active imagination and had plied her earlier with questions about Maureen and the ambulance. Now he was asleep with a book on his chest, so she turned out his light and tried to phone the garda in Bantry, a large town over forty miles away. She had forgotten whether his first name or surname was Redmond, and when his answerphone came on, Nessa just left a message to say that she could meet himself and his inspector at Cnoc Meala the following afternoon.
    Sal was busily working her phone in the kitchen. ‘The others have gone down to Derryowen for a drink,’ she said. ‘The French couple, that is, and the two sisters – Zoe and whatshername, the quieter one. No doubt they’re discussing this evening’s excitement over their pints.’
    â€˜Not the kind of excitement we advertise, unfortunately.’ Nessa poured wine for herself. She could arrange for her guests to get a lift back from O’Donovan’s pub in Derryowen, if they decided against the long walk up the hill.
    â€˜By the way, have you heard the rumour?’ Sal paused in her fingerwork. ‘The latest on Maureen’s love life?’
    Nessa took a slow sip of her drink. She was in no mood for new dramas, and just wanted to escape to her room with a comforting glass and a book. A good night’s sleep would renew her habitual curiosity about her fellow human beings.
    â€˜She was seen upstairs last night,’ Sal continued. ‘Maureen, that is, while Dominic and a few others played cards in the living room. And the big rumour is – wait for it – that she got lucky in her love quest.’
    â€˜You’d better spell it out for me, love. Is this about Maureen and Oscar, or is there another entanglement I haven’t heard about?’
    â€˜It’s about Maureen going into Oscar’s bedroom. One of the two sisters – not Zoe but the other one, Stella, isn’t it? – went upstairs at about half ten, to look for a book she’d mislaid or something. Oscar’s room is opposite theirs and who does Stella see going in to him but Maureen? How about that now?’
    â€˜Maureen might have been inviting him to join her husband’s card game,’ said Nessa drily.
    Sal smirked in response. ‘Yeah, right. But the thing is, she wasn’t in a hurry about it, because according to Stella’s account, Maureen was still in Oscar’s room when Stella came downstairs at least, oh, ten or fifteen minutes later.’

THREE
Friday 18 September, 2.30 p.m.
    T he beguiling Beara peninsula, as the guidebooks had it. Craggy purple mountains and soft green farmland, not to mention the usual touristy stuff about boats bobbing on the waves. And, of course, hospitable people who loved to welcome strangers.
    Redmond Joyce was not enticed by the image, no matter what others told him. All he could see of Beara was a low sky and persistent grey drizzle on his windscreen. He was on his way from Bantry, outside the peninsula, to Castletownbere, its main town, and from there to Derryowen. He was always amazed that people chose to spend their holidays in such places – bare and lumpy mountains, roads twisting across an empty landscape, nothing in sight but bleak loneliness.
    It looked better in sunshine, of course. But even so, it would not attract him. To him, one mountain was the same as the next, and staring at a jumble of stones and water was not his idea of a good time. As for the people, he would run a mile from their kind and hospitable attempts to make conversation. What he wanted on holidays was to