Under the Hill(5)

I felt a knot of nausea gather in my stomach. As I watched, a guard backed out of the shed and looked over to the officer near me and nodded. Declan shoved his way into the shed, and came out a shrunken man. My policeman shook his head sadly. “It’ll be his sister, then.”

“What was her name?” I whispered.

“Honora. She disappeared a couple of years ago. Story was, she’d run off with Patrick McCarthy, for he hasn’t been seen since. If Honora’s here, so might he be.”

I swallowed, hard. Should I tell him I’d talked to Honora just yesterday morning—and she’d told me to tell Declan where to look? No, they’d think I was crazy, now that they’d found a body. A woman’s body. Could it be someone else? Had Honora played some awful trick before she vanished? She’d seemed so, well, real, when we’d talked.

But after all, this was a place where people believed in leprechauns and banshees. I’d been talking to a ghost.

I looked up to see the woman who had called herself Honora watching from the crest of the hill. No one else seemed to notice her. I could swear she was smiling. Then she waved at me, turned, and was gone.

I couldn’t just stand there watching the guards do their gruesome work, so I took a walk—not toward where I’d last seen Honora, but the other way—and I waited until they let me back into the house. They had no reason to keep me out: after all, if anything had happened inside the house, it was years ago, so the evidence was long gone.

I expected to spend an anxious night, knowing what I knew now, but to my surprise I slept straight through. I decided to believe that Honora had delivered her message and she was done with me. The next day I waited until I thought the pubs would be open and drove straight to town and the pub. Declan was back behind the bar, although there were no customers, and he wasn’t surprised to see me.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Honora was dead?” I demanded as soon as I walked in.

He looked at me a moment before answering. “We didn’t know fer sure, because there was no body. But I knew. We’d been close, the two of us, and she’d let slip about her and Patrick. I’d never heard from her, after she disappeared.”

“But why’d she talk to me? Not you?”

“I couldn’t say,” Declan said, with some regret. “Yer a woman, yer not from here. And then there’s the date.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Samhain, isn’t it? Today’s the first of November—the Day of the Dead. The doors to the other world are open and the souls of the dead come out. You were stayin’ where she died—mebbe she’s tied to the place.” He gave me a half smile. “If you believe that kind of thing.” As I struggled to take that in, he added, “They’ve arrested Catherine for the murders.”

“Murders, plural? More than one?”

“Honora and Catherine’s cheatin’ husband. The gardaí are guessing Catherine came to the house to see how the work was goin’. Her husband was laying the patio and he was messing about with the concrete—and she came upon him and Honora together there, takin’ a break from the work. Looks like she took a shovel to their heads, the both of ’em, and shoved them in the same hole. Handy that he’d a batch of concrete ready to go, so she just went ahead and covered ’em up. She’s a strong woman, that one, and she’d have had no trouble at all. The shed was put in a couple of days later—one of those ready-made ones, went together fast.”

And then she started renting the place out? That was cold. I remembered Catherine’s hands, thick-skinned and scarred, and I didn’t doubt she could have done it. I stifled a hysterical giggle. “Does that mean I don’t have to pay for the cottage?”

“I’d say yer safe enough turnin’ yer back on it. Just leave the key behind a stone by the door when you go—it’ll be sorted out later. Will you be leavin’ us now?”

I considered, but not for long. I’d come to this place to get to know myself post-John. Now I’d learned that I could chat with someone who wasn’t there and accept that the dead could walk the land, at least now and then, and it didn’t scare me. And I knew that I didn’t need John and all his grand plans, and that felt good. “No, I don’t think so. I kind of like it around here.”

“Would yeh rather have another place to stay, fer the rest of your time here, then? I know some places . . .”

I smiled at him. “No, I’m good. Honora trusted me with her message and believed I’d tell you, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again. I’ll stay where I am.”

“Good woman. Can I get you a pint? On the house.”

“Declan, I think I need one. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Honora’s been gone to me for a while. Maybe now she can rest. I thank you fer that.”





Excerpt from Relatively Dead





Keep reading for an excerpt from

the first book in the new

Relatively Dead series

by Sheila Connolly!





Abby Kimball has just moved to New England with her boyfriend and is trying to settle in, but the experience is proving to be quite unsettling, to say the least. While on a tour of local historic homes, Abby witnesses a family scene that leaves her gasping for breath—because the family has been dead for nearly a century. Another haunting episode follows, and another, until it seems to Abby that everything she touches is drawing her in, calling to her from the past.