The Delaney Woman Read Online Free PDF Page B

before the crash. Surely he would have noticed that he had no brakes before climbing the mountain road.”
    â€œWe believe the brakes were partially cut before he started out that day. He stopped for petrol and a bite to eat at a convenience store. When he came out the brakes were gone.”
    Kellie closed her eyes. Pain leaped to life in her chest, radiating outward until her entire back and stomach were on fire. “Why?” she whispered.
    â€œWe’re not disclosing this to upset you further, Miss Delaney,” Cecil Marsh assured her. “We could use your help.”
    â€œWhat kind of help?”
    â€œAnything you can give us would be a start— names, locations, anything?”
    â€œWill you find who killed my brother and his son?”
    Cecil Marsh leaned back in his chair. Lines of weariness etched his cheeks. “Honestly?” He shook his head. “It’s doubtful. These people are clever and the situation complicated. It isn’t likely one person acted alone. The odds aren’t good, Miss Delaney. They never are. I’m sorry. Can you help us at all?”
    They wanted her help, these men who treated murder as blandly as they did the morning weather report. Rage loomed in her chest. Connor and Danny were dead, killed by assassins and it was merely an unfortunate circumstance . Kellie bit down on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes were blank, her words expressionless. She had a single name, a common name. It was all she would give them. “Tom Whelan,” she said quietly. “My brother was communicating with a man named Tom Whelan.”
    John Griffith spoke for the first time. “There are thousands of Tom Whelans. Do you have a location?”
    â€œNo,” she lied. “All I have is his name.”
    Marsh stood. “Thank you for your information, Miss Delaney. We’ll let you know if anything develops.” He had his arm under her elbow, leading her toward the door. “These things take time. It’s best to get on with your life and let us do our business. Connor would have wanted that. He understood how things worked.”
    Kellie stood outside the door closed firmly shut against her. The interview was over. She had been swatted aside, an annoying fly in the path of a steamroller moving in the opposite direction.
    There was nothing left to do but take matters into her own hands and go to Banburren, check into Tom Whelan’s guest house and find out what she could. Fortunately she had already booked her room. Two weeks had never seemed shorter. Connor’s house would have to be listed and her flat sublet. There was no time to lose.

Three
    H e opened the door, took one look at the woman on the porch and his breathing altered. She stepped out of the shadows into the light and his heart resumed its natural rhythm. She wasn’t Claire . The revelation came to him immediately, with the speed and surety of an epiphany.
    Mustering the practiced skill acquired through years of renting rooms to boarders, Tom Whelan summoned a warm smile and reached for her bag. “Come in,” he said easily. “You must be Kellie Delaney.”
    â€œYes. Thank you for taking me on such short notice.” Her voice was smoky, seductive, so like Claire’s it shook him to the core.
    Once again he recovered quickly. “It’s no problem. There isn’t much activity here in Banburren this time of year. Would you like a pot of tea?”
    She smiled. “Yes, thank you. I’d like it very much. I’ve forgotten how hospitable the Irish are.”
    â€œYou’re not Irish?”
    â€œActually I am, from here in the Six Counties . But I’ve been away for a long time.”
    He led her into the kitchen where he filled a kettle with water and assembled the tea tray, all the while maintaining a steady flow of light conversation.
    Tom cleared his throat. “I thought you’d be more comfortable if I made up the room