Night of the Dark Horse (An Allegra Fairweather Mystery) Read Online Free Page B

to match his. Once his cane lodged in a pothole and he pitched forward. I caught him before he hit the ground, but it was a near thing.
    It was a relief to reach the home of Nola and Brian O’Malley. My knock was answered by a woman in late middle-age. With her clear skin, round rosy cheeks and ample hips, she was the perfect picture of a healthy country woman. I introduced myself and explained that I’d been hired by Ronan to get rid of the pooka.
    “Sure, everyone’s been talkin’ about you.” She switched her gaze from me to Casper, extended her hand and said, “Lovely to meet you. Please call me Nola.”
    “Casper,” he said, shaking her hand.
    “My partner,” I clarified. Flashing him a warning glance, I said, “He doesn’t say much.”
    Nola invited us in and offered tea and cake. I preferred coffee, but I’d settle for tea to make a witness feel comfortable.
    “Would you like to eat outside?” she suggested. “The weather is so pleasant.” Not sure I agreed with her on that, but I obediently followed her through a neat cottage to her large back garden. A man with balding gray hair and a slight beer belly sat at a table, studying a crossword.
    “My husband Brian,” Nola said.
    “Good mornin’ to you.” He gave us a brief smile before returning his attention to the puzzle.
    Casper and I pulled up chairs and joined him at the table. Brian was too busy filling in squares to pay us much attention, but that was fine by me. Casper stretched his long legs in front of him. It wasn’t long before his eyes closed. Sunlight haloed his hair, which, for a moment, was bright golden again. I was reaching out to smooth the locks off his forehead when Nola reappeared with a tray of cups, saucers, plates and a whole cake.
    “This is my famous honey and ginger cake.” She handed around plates of the sugary treat.
    I was still full from brunch, but I could always find room for cake. I took a bite. “Wow, this is good.” The only time I’d tasted better was the angel cake from Casper’s Angel Awards goodie bag.
    She beamed. “That’s because of my secret ingredient, so it is.”
    I knew better than to ask about ingredients. Cooks don’t give away their secrets. Not that I’d borrow her recipe anyway. My idea of preparing food was picking up takeout.
    Nola wasn’t done boasting about her cake. “It took first prize at the local fair two years in a row. It would’ve won this year too if that bird hadn’t got to it. The bloody thing flew right into the house on the mornin’ of the fair and started eatin’. By the time I shooed it away, the cake was destroyed.”
    “You did more than shoo it away,” Brian teased. “The creature was lucky to escape with its life.”
    “Now then, Brian O’Malley, you’d be angry too if a bird attacked your crossword.”
    He looked at the sky as though expecting a bird to dump on him. When he saw there was nothing flying overhead, he relaxed and bit into his cake.
    I got out my pencil and notepad. “Nola, tell me about your experience with the pooka.”
    More than happy to share her story, she began, “There was a terrible storm that night, wasn’t there, Brian?”
    “Mmm.” Eleven down commanded his attention.
    “It was very much like the storm we had last night,” she went on. “Strange weather we’ve been havin’. Dingaleen rarely had bad storms before this year.” She paused to sip her tea and savor a mouthful of cake. “It was around midnight when the pooka arrived. I’d been up late reading. I’d only just turned out the light when I heard a man—or so I thought—call my name. ‘Nola Ashling O’Malley.’ I thought it was old Derry comin’ home from the pub.”
    “But it wasn’t,” I prompted.
    She shook her head, making wisps of gray hair dance. “That evil black horse was lookin’ up at my window. Snortin’ fire and brimstone. Eyes like glowin’ coals. I thought I was dreamin’. ‘Go away,’ I said, and drew the curtains. But it