Kilmoon: A County Clare Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

greet the poor bastards. They’d sit in the pubs with their mates then saunter down to Internet Café. Yes, these blokes hankered for a moment of privacy such as he, Lonnie O’Brien, budding entrepreneur, could supply. He could even provide a menu of recommended websites for their viewing pleasure.
    “Brilliant,” he said. “Ivan, you’re the man. But I’m thinking we’d best cater to the ladies also, or they’ll shut me down quick as a lad’s prude girlfriend. We’ll host women’s-only nights to appease them.”
    “Your mother will love that,” Ivan said with something other than enthusiasm. “She will be organizing everything like always.”
    Lonnie pushed Ivan backwards through the door. “We’ll serve tea and biscuits, teach them how to use the Internet. It’ll be a fecking social hour. Dear Mum will be useful when it comes to all that.”
    “Singles evenings too,” Ivan said. “Maybe local dating service that we associate with the matchmaking festival. I can create password-aided program only accessible from our network. Our clients pay monthly fees to access our singles database and correspond through email—”
    “Spot-on, you filthy Cossack, spot-on.” Lonnie pointed across the street, where Kevin Donellan had just stepped out of the post office. “I tell you what, I’m not hiring that wankstain to build the cubicles.”
    “Cubicles?”
    “You heard me, private cubicles.”
    Lonnie ground his teeth as Kevin strode away without a glance at Internet Café. “And he’d best not stick his prick into my business affairs again, not after last year. Authentic storefronts, my ass.”
    He retreated back into his office. A moment later, one of those whiny American songstresses filled the air and worsened his mood. Fuck me, he thought, and pulled his special folder out from under his desk blotter. A desultory flip didn’t yield magical revelations into fresh cash, though he couldn’t help stopping at a marriage announcement and marveling at the mystery that was fate, or destiny, or some other bull.
    Chase-McCallum
    Timothy and Cassandra Chase of Boston are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter, Julia Lane Chase, to Andrew James McCallum, of San Francisco, CA. Andrew is the son of Edward and Trinity McCallum of Chicago, IL.
    The bride-to-be graduated from Vassar College and most recently worked as a travel writer. The groom-elect owns an international consulting and trade business headquartered in San Francisco.
    Julia and Andrew met in Ireland. Their union is the result of an annual matchmaking festival held in Lisfenora, County Clare. The couple will move to California following their December 31, 1975, wedding, which is planned at St. Patrick’s Catholic Church.
    He’d already teased out every possible angle from this bit, including the all-important fact that Julia Chase was three months pregnant by the time she got married. He needed to step up his efforts because Merrit would have no reason to continue paying him after she revealed her identity to Liam. He needed more, more of everything: other people’s secrets, other people’s money. Not to mention a fierce shagging since he was drawing up a wish list.
    Ivan poked his head into the office. “Customer,” he whispered and by his hunched shoulders, the door chimes must have signaled a female of the good-looking variety.
    “Go on then. I’ve got it.”
    Lonnie took up position behind the counter, taking his time and inhaling the sultry, slightly over-ripened scent that flicked by him on the breeze the woman brought in with her.
    “No need to be shy. Come in,” he said.
    The woman stood just within the doorway. She was no local, to be sure. Lonnie hadn’t seen a hip cocked that way since his last trip to Amsterdam.
    “I’d say I’m in already, wouldn’t you?” she said.
    Ah, a Dublin accent. Jackeen in the western bogs and no wonder she looked as out of place as a whore in a nunnery. Beyond her, sunshine reached