Irish Stewed Read Online Free PDF Page B

tense.
    “The Lance of Justice!” Declan’s chuckle told me he didn’t take the moniker 100 percent seriously. I couldn’t blame him. Even to me, coming from LA, where hype was the name of the game and more often than not, people believed their own PR even when they shouldn’t have, the name came across as overblown and self-important.
    I wondered if the Lance was.
    And if that was what got him killed.
    “Jack Lancer was always on one crusade or another,” Declan explained. “Sometimes, he’d do a story exposing public employees who weren’t putting in their full day’s work. Or he’d investigate companies that provided shoddy products or workmanship. You know, that sort of thing. Jack was big and loud and pushy. At least that’s how he came across on TV. The fearless crusader. He was a publicity hound, too. He’d show up as grand marshal of local parades, or at the openings of stores. A local celebrity. He had a couple charities he backed, too. An animal shelter, the local food pantry. So I guess he wasn’t all bad. Even small towns have hometown heroes.”
    “So do you think that’s why someone would want to kill him? Because he was pushy and shamed people on TV?”
    “I can’t say.” Declan stepped up beside me and I lookedup and to my left. From this vantage point, his profile was outlined by the pulsing lights outside. The red and blue flashing lights emphasized his firm chin and a nose that was well shaped and straight enough that some of the actors I knew would swoon with envy. Declan’s gaze roved over the knots of people gathered out on the sidewalk, and I looked where he was looking, at the woman in the pink smock and the burly man who slipped his arm around her shoulders.
    “Sophie says they’re your aunt and uncle.”
    “Kitty and Pat Sheedy. Salt of the earth. Kitty and my mother are sisters. Pat and my dad . . .” He twitched his shoulders. “They love each other like brothers, but you’d be hard pressed to find two men who were more different.”
    “Different good? Or different bad?”
    Declan laughed. “You’ll see.” He slid me a sidelong look. “If you hang around long enough.”
    Rather than get pulled into that conversation again, I watched the two uniformed cops who moved from person to person outside, asking questions and writing down the answers. For all I knew, the police already had a theory about the Lance of Justice’s murder, and maybe it really did have to do with someone trying to steal copper out of the restaurant. If that was the case, though, and the theory of the crime was wrapped up in a neat package, those cops outside probably wouldn’t have looked quite so worried.
    “I imagine a man like Jack Lancer has plenty of enemies,” Declan commented.
    And I imagined he was right. I finished my tea, and when Declan held out a hand, I gave him the cup.
    “What were you doing at the restaurant tonight?” I asked him.
    I’d hoped for some other sort of reaction besides a laugh. “Now you sound like the Lance of Justice himself! Whatwere you doing there? Why were you seen? What were you up to?”
    “So . . .” I turned so I could face him. “What were you up to?”
    “You don’t believe neighbors should check on neighbors?”
    “I don’t believe in coincidences. You just happened to show up when we got there.”
    “Because you just happened to turn on the lights in the waiting area. Since Sophie isn’t usually open late on Mondays, that seemed a little fishy to me.”
    “As fishy as you wanting to look around the restaurant?”
    “I didn’t like the idea of two ladies being in there alone after dark.”
    “Except we weren’t alone. There was a dead body in the other room.”
    “And you think I knew something about it. You think that’s why I wanted to get in there before you.”
    “That’s one possible explanation.”
    “Are there others?”
    I cocked my head and considered the question. “If you’re the murderer, you might have been