Malarkey Read Online Free Page B

slope on flagstone steps that ended
at the edge of the house. The raked ground looked untouched. I
stepped onto the soft surface carefully and Kennedy followed in my
footprints, but my suede ankle boots sank in. The area would have to
be raked and replanted after us—and after the ambulance crew.
    When I stopped at the patio, reluctant to enter the shed,
Kennedy paused beside me. We had tracked the Irish equivalent of
barkdust onto the flagstones. "There's no latch," I repeated. "The
door was ajar."
    "So I see. Tell me what you did."
    I described my movements.
    "And he's in there on the floor?"
    "He looks as if somebody laid him out." All that was missing
was a lily in his hands, or a rosary if they didn't do lilies in Ireland. I
have no idea why I didn't warn Kennedy about the red paint
mark.
    "Laid out, do you say?" He pursed his mouth. "A shock, was
it?"
    I stared at him.
    He gave a slight smile of apology. "Let's have a look at the
feller, then, shall we?" He nudged the door open, as I had, with his
foot and entered. "Jaysus, if it's not General O'Duffy, God rest
him."
    I thought of the paint splotch and the man's combat fatigues,
and my memory played one of the tricks it plays when I'm tired.
When the sergeant emerged from the shed, and he didn't stay inside
it long, I asked, "The Blueshirt? You said O'Duffy."
    Kennedy stared at me. His black-fringed eyes were suddenly
very shrewd indeed. "Well, now, what do you know of Eoin
O'Duffy and the Blueshirts?"
    "Senior seminar on William Butler Yeats," I muttered. A
good fifteen years ago; I didn't mention that. "In the thirties, Yeats
had a flirtation with a group of fascists. O'Duffy was the local Duce ." I gestured toward the shed. "Are you saying this guy
was a neo-Nazi?"
    "'Twas just my pet name for him. He liked to dress up like
Rambo and play little wars games with his mates. They shoot at each
other with polythene guns full of paint."
    "Squirt guns?"
    "Yes." After a moment he added, "Neo-Nazi? His politics was
no business of mine."
    "But his games were?"
    "He recruited some of the lads from the High School. I had
complaints."
    "Wonderful." My mind drifted back to my own situation.
"Then you can identify him?"
    "And so could herself." He jerked a thumb upward toward
the cottage. "Slade William Wheeler, thirty-one, U.S. passport. Queer
names you Yanks have."
    "Like Lark?" I am hypersensitive about my name.
    He didn't comment. "Wheeler was the bursar—as you might
say, the business manager—of Stonehall Enterprises."
    "The business manager! He's...he was too young."
    "They're all unhatched chicks," he said sourly. He was about
my age. He met my eyes, and we exchanged wry smiles. His faded.
"You called Stanyon Hall. Who else did you telephone?"
    A damp gust ruffled my hair. I smoothed it. "Since I found
the body? No one. The Steins own the cottage. I thought they should
know, but I didn't describe the dead man to Barbara, and I didn't
bring her down here either. I thought that might compromise the
physical evidence. My husband was a policeman," I added when his
eyebrows rose.
    "Was? Are you widowed, then?"
    A chill ran up my spine. "No! I mean he was a policeman for
many years. Right now he runs a college-level police training
program."
    He frowned.
    "I called Jay, my husband, that is, before I found the body. I
left a brief message. My father also called home." Horrors, I was
going to have to tell Jay I'd stumbled into another crisis. I
shuddered.
    "Are you cold?"
    "No, it's just reaction." The wind was damp and had an edge,
but I was wearing wool pants and a heavy pullover.
    "We can go in now. You need a cup of tea. I'll take it as a
favor, Mrs. Dodge, if you say nothing of the red paint for the time
being."
    I nodded.
    "It's the sort of detail newspapers love to exploit."
    I thought of the English tabloids. Was there an Irish
equivalent? I shuddered again.
    Kennedy cocked his head the way Barbara had when she'd
heard his car drive up. "That'll be the ambulance coming."