The Tour (21 page)

Juliet’s look of anticipation mixed with fear touched Anna deeply. ‘Juliet, that is an incredibly kind offer. I …I don’t know what to say.’

‘It’s OK Anna,’ Juliet interjected, assuming the younger woman was trying to find a way of refusing without causing offence. ‘It’s all a bit sudden. And you don’t have to say anything. I’d probably feel the same way if I was you.’ She smiled, feeling foolish at her suggestion. I mean this young woman barely knew her. She was probably afraid Juliet would try to steal her baby.

‘No! I just can’t believe you would make such a generous offer. I mean you hardly know me. But if you really mean it…’

It suddenly dawned on Juliet that Anna was seriously considering her proposal. ‘Well, all I am offering is a roof over your head for a while and someone to help out with the baby. I’d enjoy the company. Believe me Anna, the prospect of being a Grandma, even a stand-in one, would make me very happy.’

Maybe there is a master plan for humanity after all, Anna thought. No question, Juliet would be a much better influence in her child’s life than Elliot ever could have been. The prospect of Sarasota sounded enticing – sunshine and beaches for the baby to enjoy, and Florida had a vibrant economy, so there was bound to be work available. And with Juliet’s support, she could still have a life and be able to earn money.

Suddenly, she had a brainwave. ‘Hey Juliet, I have a better idea. That place you mentioned, with the pool and the garden…well how about we buy a place together? It could be all done legally and we would own it fifty-fifty. If either one of us wanted out at any time, we could just sell up. Property doesn’t really lose value down there if it’s in a good location. Somewhere with a garden would be just lovely for the baby and we would both have a bit more room in a bigger place. We would be like roommates, but with the Grandma bit thrown in. I couldn’t afford anything like that on my own and not many people want to share with a single mom so it might suit us both? I have some contacts in a publishing house in Miami. Maybe they could get me some freelance, home-based work. And if you would help with childcare, even part time…’ Anna’s eyes positively glittered with excitement.

Juliet stuck out her hand and Anna gripped it. ‘Deal,’ they said in unison. As the rumble of an approaching breakfast catering trolley grew closer, Anna rose quietly from the bedside chair, leaving the now sleepy-eyed Juliet to get some badly-needed rest.

‘Thanks Larry,’ Juliet whispered gently before drifting off into a deep slumber.

Chapter 22

Dorothy heard a key being turned in the lock. About time. She had been kept waiting for hours. The same detective who had arrested her earlier that morning beckoned to her to follow him down the corridor to Interview Room 1. The chair that he invited her to sit on was bolted to the floor, she noticed. As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, on the desk opposite her stood a camcorder aimed directly at her face. ‘I’m putting in a new tape to record our interview,’ he said, stating the blindingly obvious. A green light appeared. ‘Interview with Dorothy Crane, 27th of July 2000 at…3.44pm. Detective John O’Keeffe present.’

Taking off his watch, and placing it on the table in front of him, he said: ‘This is a preliminary statement regarding the events leading up to your arrest today. As I mentioned, you don’t have to say anything. Neither do you have to speak to me without a solicitor present. If you have a solicitor, we can call him or her for you. If you cannot afford a solicitor, the State will provide one for you. Do you understand?’

Dorothy made a quick mental calculation. He seemed to be young, maybe early thirties, was dressed in civilian clothes, navy trousers and a blue striped shirt. She imagined he probably wasn’t paid very much. She cleared her throat. ‘Well officer. I … em… I have some money. I can get access to it quickly if that’s necessary. Possibly even used notes? I’m sure you and I can come to an…arrangement? Then we can forget any of this silliness,’ she said, giving what she hoped was a charming smile.

The detective gazed expressionless at her. Dorothy mistook his gaze for one of interest and continued blithely, ‘I’m sure the government doesn’t pay you enough at all. It must be a terrible job dealing with all those terrorists and so on. I would be happy to offer you something for your trouble. I know you don’t believe I am guilty of anything. But, to save all that paperwork, it would be much easier if we came to an arrangement and I could leave here and you could treat yourself and your wife or girlfriend to a nice holiday…’

The detective cleared his throat. ‘Ms Crane, I think it would be in your best interest to avail yourself of the services of a solicitor. In addition to a charge of aggravated assault, you have now added another charge – attempting to bribe a member of the Garda Síochána. A charge I must warn you, that is taken most seriously by the courts. Interview terminated 3.48pm.’

He busied himself with removing the cassette from the camcorder, wrote something on a label and summoned the uniformed Garda at the desk. ‘Please accompany Ms Crane back to her cell.’

The gravity of her situation had rendered Dorothy temporarily speechless so she meekly followed the young Garda down the corridor.

‘Do you want us to call a solicitor for you or will I put you on the list for a State solicitor?’ he asked.

‘I…don’t know any solicitors here. Do you mean an attorney? I have an attorney back in the States but I don’t know anyone here…’ her voice trailed off.

The Garda waited at the door of the cell. ‘When can I go? Dorothy asked.

The Garda looked at her as if she was senile. ‘You’ve been arrested. The next thing that will happen is that you will be formally charged at a sitting of the District Court. Then the case will be put on a list for hearing. If you have a solicitor at that stage, he or she will most likely apply for bail for you. And if the judge doesn’t see you as a flight risk, he or she might grant it. It’s hard to know. They’re usually inclined to remand foreign nationals in custody. Almost certainly the judge will confiscate your passport and notify your embassy.’

Dorothy felt weak. This situation was so horrific it caused the haughty air that usually enveloped her to evaporate completely. She barely recognised her own voice as handed a piece of paper to the Garda. ‘Could you call this number for me please? The man’s name is Conor O’Shea. He might be able to help me. Can I have a visitor?’

The guard looked down and saw that the piece of paper contained an Irish mobile number. ‘I must warn you Ms Crane you may not contact friends or associates. The only person you will be allowed to see is a solicitor. And the sooner you get yourself one of those the better, I’d say.’

Regaining some of her composure, Dorothy replied: ‘This man I am asking you to contact is a bus driver. He is not now, nor has he ever been, an associate of mine. I hold a doctorate from the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study at Harvard University and I am currently here on vacation. This man, Conor O’Shea, is responsible for the group with whom I am travelling. I want you to contact him so that he can secure the services of an attorney for me. If you will not permit me to speak to him personally, perhaps you could relay my request?’

Suppressing a smile at her stuck-up notions, the guard took the number and agreed to phone Conor.

Conor was sitting on the bed reading his emails on his laptop, having recently returned with Bert from Inchigeela.

Dear Conor,

Great to hear from you. We arrive in on Friday at 8am. We can’t wait to see you. It will be just like old times.

Lots of love, Sinead

It had been a very long day and he was exhausted. Taking Ellen to the house she was born in was something he would remember until the day he died. But God he wished there wasn’t so much else going on as well at the same time. His mobile rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Anastasia.

How’s my favourite communist?’

‘Hi Conor. I am fine thank you and you?’ ‘Ah fine. Tired, you know yourself.’

‘You don’t sound so happy. Are you OK?’

‘Ah no I’m grand. I just have a lot on at the moment.’ ‘Oh OK. Did you hear more email from the woman in

America?’

‘As a matter of fact I’m reading an email from her now as we speak. She’ll be in Shannon at the weekend. I suppose we’ll meet up then.’

‘Oh. Yes, if she had coming all of this long way to see you. What do you think will happen?’

‘Who knows Anastasia, who knows. Anyway, how about you? Did you sort out your love life?’

‘What?’

‘Remember? The other night you were saying about your heart and your head and all that. I assumed it was over some fella. Well, it’s none of my business, but you tell him from me he’d be a madman not to grab you with both hands and never let you go.’

‘Oh yes. Him. He is bit difficult I think. I dunno.’

‘Well if he can’t see what a fabulous girl you are then he’s not worth bothering about.’

‘Oh he is worth it but, well, it’s complicated.’

‘Sure isn’t everything complicated? Maybe things will turn out grand for the two of us soon eh? The girl I loved twenty years ago is coming back and all you have to do is sort out this complicated fella of yours and we’re both sorted!’

‘Yes, I suppose. I better go, bye Conor.’

Conor was surprised how abruptly she ended the call; she didn’t even wait for him so say goodbye. She must be really cut up about this fella. He has to be a right eejit to pass up on Anastasia. He was just about to order something to eat from Room Service when his mobile rang again.

‘Hello. Could I speak to Conor O’Shea please?’ ‘Speaking.’

‘Hello, this is Garda Paul Healy, Killarney Garda Station. I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon.’ Conor felt sudden panic. What the hell was after happening now? He lived in fear of his groups as they navigated the Irish streets. No matter how often he reminded them, there was always someone who forgot that cars drive on the left hand side of the road in Ireland. More than once he had had to haul one of this group back onto the pavement as a truck came whizzing by.

‘I’m sorry. I was in West Cork and my mobile was out of coverage for most of the afternoon. What’s happened?’ Conor asked.

‘We have here in custody a Ms Dorothy Crane. She has been arrested and is currently being held under Section 4 of the Non-Fatal Offences against the Person Act 1997. I understand you are responsible for her.’

Conor almost laughed out loud. ‘I’m sorry Guard, but I’d say you have the wrong woman there. She is travelling with me on a tour and we are staying here in the Hotel Killarney but I don’t think you have the right lady. She is some kind of a college professor and …’

‘That is a matter for the court to decide,’ the Garda interrupted, ‘but in the meantime, she asked that you organise a solicitor for her. Is that something you are willing to do?’

Conor was totally taken aback. ‘Er, well yes. I suppose I can do that. Will I come down there?’

The Garda sighed, ‘Mr O’Shea, as I have already said, the suspect is under arrest awaiting hearing. She cannot have visitors but she does need a solicitor. Can I tell her you will organise one, or will I notify the Chief State Solicitor’s Office and ask them to appoint someone?’

‘I’ll sort it. Tell her I’m on it. Thanks Guard.’

As he hung up, all thoughts of Sinéad and Anastasia disappeared. Dorothy Crane assaulted someone? That was the craziest thing he had ever heard in his life. A cantankerous old wagon who was never done moaning for certain, but physical violence? Surely not. There must be some mistake. Conor thought back to his remarks to the group that morning about not having enough cash to bail them out of jail. He had heard Dorothy’s muttered comment about his lame jokes and naturally he had chosen to ignore it. And now, here she was, needing a solicitor of all things! Conor left his room in search of Juliet. He was sure Dorothy had sufficient funds to pay a solicitor but he decided he had better check all the same. She was such a skinflint, maybe she would prefer to go for the State solicitor option. On the other hand, given that she had asked him to organise someone, presumably that meant a private one. Conor didn’t know any solicitors in Killarney. On the few occasions when he had required legal services, he had used a big Dublin firm. Maybe Juliet would have some ideas idea about what Dorothy was likely to want him to do. He walked down to Reception to see if anyone there might know what had happened. What this Garda arrest was all about.

‘Conor, at last!’ the hotel manager greeted him.

‘God John, not you too. What the hell has been going on? My phone was out of coverage on and off this afternoon.’ Conor followed the manager into his office. Dumbfounded, he listened to the details of the attack.

‘Sweet Jesus,’ he said when the manager finished ‘And you’re sure Juliet is OK? Just stitches?’

‘Yes, her friend Anna Heller, the one who destroyed Room 106 with a bottle of red wine and then nearly hospitalised the porter when she threw a suitcase from the first floor at her departing ex-husband, assures me she will be fine’

‘Jesus John, I’m so sorry…’ Conor began.

John Maylor interrupted him with a wide grin. ‘In thirty- six years of managing this hotel I’ve never had such an eventful day. Mrs Heller offered to pay all expenses for cleaning the carpets and the bed, and she also asked me to pass on a voucher for Gaby’s restaurant for the porter with her apologies. So that’s all fine. She seems nice despite her volatile nature. Hell hath no fury eh? That other one, the Dorothy Crane person is, it seems, in the Garda station for assaulting Juliet Steele who will be released from hospital tomorrow. It’s hardly your fault Conor, but don’t take any more days off OK?’

Several phone calls later Conor finally managed to make contact with a local solicitor who had come highly recommended by the hotel manager. He assured Conor that Lucinda McAuliffe was both efficient and discreet and when Conor briefed her on the background to the incident, she promised to visit Dorothy later that evening.

Dorothy meanwhile was progressing rapidly from fear to blind panic. She recalled watching a movie some years previously, called
Mission Express
or
Midnight Express
or something like that… about a young American who had tried to get through customs in some country like Turkey or Iraq or France or somewhere …with packets of drugs taped to his body. He ended up spending years and years in a horrible jail, never shaving or cutting his hair. Dorothy ran her hands over her short haircut. She hated long hair…She looked up startled as the door opened. A different uniformed officer, a young woman this time, announced: ‘Your solicitor is here. Follow me.’