Death in the Burren by John Kinsella

afterwards, as you know. He was really out of sorts. It seemed to weaken him somehow.”
    “I can understand a man reacting like that when his wife is insulted in public. Full marks I say.” boomed Patsy.
    “Yes indeed,” agreed McAllister,” but Hyland was obviously a pathetic type, hardly worth the effort. What intrigued me more was his apparent obsession with Frank’s photography. What was that about Susan, do you know?”
    “I really have no idea.” She looked blankly at them.
    “Has Frank spent a lot of time out with his cameras?”
    “Recently, yes. When we were building up the business he had no spare time but has been taking a lot of seascapes in the past few weeks. You know how Frank becomes obsessed with an idea. Some of the work he has done is really beautiful.”
    “Why would that concern Hyland?” puzzled McAllister.
    “I really have no idea. He was very drunk and presumably didn’t know what he was saying.”
    “I’m still not clear as to why Curtis took Frank away.” said Patsy.
    “I’m not too clear on that either,” admitted Susan. “Before he left, Frank told me Con’s main concern seemed to be that none of us saw Frank on Tuesday night - that combined with his anger towards Hyland. You remember, John, it was the night of the Ennis concert, and Frank slept alone because he wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t want to be disturbed when we returned and it was next morning before I saw him.”
    “Yes that’s true,” agreed McAllister, “but surely there’s nothing unusual about that. Frank was feeling out of sorts and he wanted to have an undisturbed night’s rest.”
    “Most natural thing in the world,” added Patsy. “Instinct, you know. Any animal would teach you that. Feeling a bit dodgy, so, go to ground for a while. Absolutely natural.”
    “Frank was in a very sombre mood that evening,” recalled McAllister. “He said something strange about Boccherini’s music making him sad. I can’t recall the words right now but it did strike me as a rather gloomy comment.” He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “However, I suppose we could go on talking like this until Doomsday.”
    McAllister looked around the room.
    The American party had left and the trio sat alone in the restaurant. The dining room staff had also departed and there was no sound to be heard. The light’s of a distant fishing boat could be seen rocking on the swell.
    They sat in silence for a moment. Susan looked totally dejected as she hunched forward at the table. She was leaning on her elbows with her hands tightly clasped, the knuckles showing white. She cried again and her two companions comforted her as best they could.
    While Susan regained her composure McAllister pondered on the seriousness of the situation. Curtis could point to a flimsy motive, and an equally flimsy theory, about Frank having an opportunity to carry out a murder because he hadn’t much of an alibi. McAllister knew in his bones that Curtis’s suspicions must be stronger than that, otherwise he would not have taken Holland in for questioning. Curtis must know something else.
    McAllister recalled the events of Tuesday night. After the concert Susan and he had some tea before retiring, and that was about it. Nothing remarkable. Then he remembered the car which woke him at 3 am. He decided to ask Susan if any of their guests were expected to return late that night.
    But not now, not while she was so upset.
    A telephone rang. Susan rose to answer it. McAllister put his hand on her shoulder and indicated that he would take the call.
    “It’s at Reception,” she said. “Thanks John.”
    The caller identified himself as Seamus Higgins, the solicitor who was acting for Frank Holland. He wanted to speak with Susan.
    She returned, white-faced, but showing an unnatural composure. They knew something was very wrong.
    “Frank has been charged. New evidence has come up and the situation is serious.”
    “Did Higgins say what the evidence