The Celtic Riddle by Lyn Hamilton Page A

was helping himself
again, quite liberally, to the drinks on the sideboard in the hall.
It's a wonder he could even stagger to the edge of the cliff!" I
concluded.
    "There!" Rob exclaimed. "What did I tell you? You've just added an
element of doubt to your own theory."
    I glared at him. "My point, if only you would allow me to get back
to it, is that we're here for a while, pending the results of the
autopsy, so why not look for the treasure?"
    "But why would you want to?"
    "Well, for one thing it wouldn't bother me a bit to beat those
po-faced women to it," I replied.
    Rob winced. "Aren't you being a little hasty in your judgment of
them? What did they do to deserve that?"
    "Since you ask, they were horrible to Alex," I said. "When we first
arrived, we were left hanging about the front hall for ages, and I
overheard Byrne's wife Margaret telling Tweedledum or Tweedledee-those
are the lawyers-that she wouldn't have that man in her house. I assumed
she was talking about Alex, although come to think about it, it could
have been the other lawyer, or Padraig Gilhooly, whoever he is. In any
event, Alex went over and introduced himself when we were finally
allowed in, and they wouldn't even shake his hand when he offered it."
    "It was a bad time for them, don't forget," Rob interjected.
Sometimes the man is way too nice.
    "I know. But Margaret and the two daughters all have the same
expression on their faces, like they've just encountered a bad smell,
or something." I paused. "And there's another reason."
    "I thought there must be. The real one, this time, I hope," Rob said.
    "Alex just loved the cottage. I could tell, without him having to
say a word. It's a dream come true for him."
    "I'm very glad of that. But he has the cottage. What's your point?"
    "My point is, now what? How is he going to look after it? Pay the
taxes or water bills? Put in some electricity? Make repairs? Those old
places need a lot of upkeep. And unless he wants to keep crossing the
property in front of the house, which heaven knows, I wouldn't, he's
going to have to put a road in that will cost more than a penny or two,
I can assure you. He's on a pension, Rob! If we could find the treasure
for him, and it really is worth something as Byrne said it is, Alex
could really retire, not just sort of retire and work part time in the
store the way he is now.
    "We're here now, aren't we?" I wheedled. "And we're not going too
far until the police conclude their investigation into John Herlihy's
death, although what could take them so long, I can't imagine. Anyway,
we'd get to see a little of the countryside around here, while we
looked, and we might just have some fun."
    "I do understand how you feel about Alex, and maybe he does need the
money, but what makes you think we could find it? We don't know the
place at all, or the people."
    "Piece of cake," I replied. "After all, you are a policeman. You're
accustomed to tracking down clues. Already we have two of them, and we
know they come from a poem called the 'Song of Amairgen.' "
    Rob looked baffled and I felt mildly triumphant, having produced the
name of a poem he didn't know. As rare as the occasion might be, I
tried not to gloat. "Michael Davis is going to try to persuade Breeta
to get her clue out of the safe at the house, and tell us what it is.
We'll then have three of the clues. I think there were seven-the mother
and three daughters, three more counting Michael, Alex, and someone by
the name of Padraig Gilhooly, who incidentally would be about as
welcome in that house as a rattlesnake at a garden party, should he
choose to show his face there-so we're almost halfway there."
    "Halfway where?" Jennifer said, sliding into a chair beside her
father. She tossed her windbreaker, a pinky-purple number with the
words "Take no Prisoners" emblazoned across the back.
    "Half the clues handed out to Eamon Byrne's family yesterday. I'm
trying to persuade your father that we should look for the treasure in
the