Part 1 (1/2)

A Nice Clean Murder.

By Kate Sweeney.

A Nice Clean Murder, the second in the Kate Ryan Mysteries series, finds Kateas brother-in-law, Mac, heir to a small family estate in the wild west of Ireland; bequeathed to him by an uncle he barely knew. Kate finds this a little suspicious, but as her family, she too is excited about Macas inheritance.

When a young Irishman collapses on Kateas doorstep, her suspicions are justified. She is now sure that Macas Uncle Brian did not aaccidentally fall off the cliffa as reported. So, she agrees to accompany Mac and Teri on their trip across the Atlantic.

Itas good timing too, since things between Kate and Dr. Maggie Winfield are a little tensea”it seems the elusive Kate is still chasing her demons.

Join Kate Ryan and her family on a historic, merry romp of murder and betrayal along the romantic, rugged coast of the Emerald Isle.

Dedication.

This book can only be dedicated to my Aunt Dor. She epitomizes Aunt Hannahas character in the Kate Ryan series. Many years ago, she took me on a merry romp through Ireland. We certainly left our mark on the Emerald Isle, and with G.o.das blessing, maybe theyall let us back one day.

No aunt has loved her nieces and nephews morea”Thanks, Aunt Dor.

Acknowledgments.

Iad like to thank Tara Young, who edited A Nice Clean Murder. I hope the fates will allow more of the same in the future. I think she did a fantastic job, even if she is nocturnal.

Next, I owe a great deal of thanks to my invaluable beta readers: Den, Mercedes, Maureen, and Tracey. It would have been a very long haul without your keen eyes.

Also, to Sheri Payton and Becky Arbogast, who will take Intaglio into the future. I look forward to tagging along. Thanks for taking the chance on Kate Ryan once again.

And finally, to Kathy Smith, who made me feel at home at Intaglio from the onset. If home is truly where the heart is, then Katas heart will always be with Intaglio. She taught me a great deal this past year. She is not only an amazing publisher, but a true friend. Thanks, Kat. Now, start writing that sequel!

Prologue.

The cold Atlantic gale that blew across the coast of Ireland seemed to chill Brian to his very marrow as he turned his collar up against the howling wind. He started once again down the rugged path that led to his cottage. For a moment, he stopped and gazed out at the vast ocean before him, listening to the waves cras.h.i.+ng below. He felt as though he was standing on the edge of the world.

s.h.i.+vering, he thought how he should have taken Maryas offer and let Sean drive him home. Feeling old and tired, he sighed heavily and continued along the path as the cold wind whipped around him.

aSwift s.h.i.+ps are sailing in from the sea, and the banshee is wailing alone by the lea,a he whispered, remembering the poem from his childhood. Then he s.h.i.+vered again, but it wasnat from the cold.

It was then he heard the soft keening mixed with the wind. He looked over his shoulder and stopped. Looking behind him, he saw nothing. ab.l.o.o.d.y banshees are all over this fine night,a he said and whistled as he continued on his way, hoping to G.o.d they werenat wailing for him. He remembered back when his mother died. He swore he heard them calling for her.

He heard something behind him again. He stopped and listened. Not a sound. For some reason, he walked a little faster now and stopped whistling. Though it was cold, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead and looked over his shoulder once more. The keening now turned to a low haunting wail. Something, someone was behind him, right at his heelsa”he could feel it.

As his thatched cottage came into view, he breathed a sigh of relief but kept his quickened pace. Through the wind, he could still hear the low wail. He stumbled over the path and righted himself on the short stone wall that surrounded his property. He looked over it and peered down at the rocks. There was no moon this windy night. He could see nothing, yet he heard the Atlantic waves cras.h.i.+ng below. Again, he heard the low wail, or was it the wind howling over the cliffs as he strained to see through the dark pitch of night?

He whirled around, then sighed with relief. aItas you. For the love of G.o.d, ya scared the lifea”a he started to say and was grabbed by his collar and tossed over the short wall. He screamed as he tried to hold on to the edge of his world.

aWhere is it? Tell me now, or I swearaa the voice hissed.

Brian tried desperately to gain a foothold, clawing at the loose rock wall that separated him from the sea below. He looked up and cried, aWhere youall never find it.a Now the shadow was all around him, and in a voice so close it seemed to be inside his head, he heard, aYes, I will.a A heavy boot unmercifully kicked him in the face and his old body gave way. His screams echoed and mingled with the low haunting wail and the Atlantic wind, as he crashed on the rocks below.

Chapter 1.

It was a long flight from Wyoming and I was glad to catch a little sleep most of the way. As I walked through Chicagoas OaHare Airport, I realized how much I hated crowds. People were everywhere, pus.h.i.+ng and shoving. I had spent two glorious, quiet weeks on the Snake River in the Teton Range on a.s.signment. It was depressing to come back to the hustle and bustle.

aKate Ryan!a I heard the familiar voice call out. I turned and lookeda”it was Bob Whittier. I dropped my bag and almost jumped into the arms of my ex-partner.

aWhat a surprise. G.o.d, you look good,a he said, stepping back and looking at me. aSame green smiling eyes and lopsided grin. Hmm, a little more gray perhaps.a I smiled back into the blue watery eyes and smirking smile. aSmart a.s.s. You look well, Bob. How are Helen and the boys?a aFine, fine. You must be on a.s.signment. Are you still freelancing?a he asked and picked up my bag.

aYep, just got back, and nope, Iave settled down with one magazine. I love it. No more freelancing.a I glanced down at his leg. aHey, you lost the cane.a We both were silent for a moment. Bob Whittier had retired from the Chicago Police Department after my father died. It was then I had the great idea to follow my first love, and I could think of no one else but my fatheras partner with whom to start my private investigation business.

We had a good business and built a solid name for ourselves until that last case. When the dust cleared, Bob almost lost a leg. I lost my hearta”nearly lost my heada”and carried the scars to remind me. Looking back on it, we were lucky to survive. Instinctively, I felt the back of my neck, my only visible scar. In my reverie, I nearly missed what Bob was saying.

aYeah, I lost the cane. However, when this nasty Chicago weather kicks up, I tell you Iam as stiff as a board. G.o.d, Kate, itas been what, three years since Iave seen you? That was a long haul back for you, kiddo.a aBut both of us are fine now,a I whispered in a convincing tone.

aGot anyone in your life?a he asked in fatherly fas.h.i.+on. He was not convinced, it seemed.

I gave my patent, noncommittal shrug. aIam not sure. Ia”a aThen youare not fine. Look, we had no way of knowing on that last case. At least you figured it out before we were killed. When I think how close she came toa”a he stopped short. He put his arm around me as we walked through the terminal. His limp was still noticeable, but I said nothing. aTrust me, Kate, let it go. Find a nice girl and get on with it.a aDonat you start, too,a I said.

aYouare too d.a.m.ned independent. Your father was right,a he said with a wry grin.

aSo Iave been told. What are you doing at the airport? You havenat moved back?a I stopped and gave him a hopeful look.

He laughed and pulled me along. ah.e.l.l, no. Arizona is great. The climate is perfect for a broken down P.I. I was in New York. Iam on my way to my plane.a We walked toward his gate in a comfortable silence. aWell, Kate, I gotta go. G.o.d, it was great seeing you.a He pulled me into a fierce hug. aWrite or call me if you need anything, kiddo.a aYou do the same. I love you, Bob.a He smiled and I felt his hand on the back of my neck caressing the scarred area. He lightly touched his forehead against mine. aClose shave there, Irish.a aToo close,a I said and kissed him.

aIall be in touch,a he said. aWe were a good team, werenat we?a I nodded through my tears. aThe best. Take care of yourself.a I watched him as he limped out of sight. My heart ached for him when I remembered how we almost died saving each other. I started walking back and felt like a salmon going upstream. Did I mention how I hate crowds?

As I walked out of the terminal, forgetting I was no longer in the pristine Wyoming air, I took a deep breath and let out a hacking cough. I was ready to hail a cab when I saw Maggie Winfield leaning against her car. I hadnat seen her in almost a month.

aCan I give you a lift, lady?a she asked, smiling.

I smiled in return. When Maggie Winfieldas sparkling blue eyes smiled, you had no choice but to smile back. Well, I didnat anyway. aWhat in the world are you doing here?a I asked as I tossed my luggage in the trunk.

aI called Teri. Your sister told me when youad be coming back since you didnat bother to tell me. My s.h.i.+ft at the hospital starts in an hour, so I thought Iad pick you up.a She gave me a scornful look. aGet in. I donat want a ticket.a We drove in relative silence for a minute or two. aThanks for picking me up. I-Iave thought about you,a I said, suddenly feeling warm. Geez, has she got the heat on?

Maggie watched the road. aReally? I thought about you, too. I was on call in the emergency room. A man came in who stepped on a rake and the handle came up and broke his nose. I said to myself, now this is something Kate would do.a She gave me a sidelong glance accompanied with that d.a.m.nable sarcastic smirk.

I said nothing as I looked out the window. She was right, though, I was terribly accident p.r.o.ne. I tried to ignore her contagious chuckling but soon it grabbed me and we both laughed. We were still laughing as she pulled into my driveway.