BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds Read online

  “Did you see him to it?”

  “Well…no. But why would he say he’d done it if he hadn’t? He’s been in my employ since I moved to Inish Glas and he’s never given me reason to doubt his loyalty—or his sanity.”

  The police sergeant addressed his colleague. “Get the staff up here, Creedon.”

  A tense minute passed while Garda Creedon rounded up Alan and the others.

  The three servants trooped into the bathroom and jerked to a halt.

  “Mon dieu,” Jean-Baptiste roared. “The body, it is vanish.”

  “Into thin air, apparently.” Sergeant Glenn’s tone was dry as sandpaper.

  “Where did he go?” Alan demanded, staring transfixed at the empty tub. “What happened to the champagne bottle and glasses?”

  “Not to mention the spotlessly clean tub,” Peters added. “I realize the police must think we’re out of our minds, but I assure you, officers, that we didn’t have a collective hallucination. There was a dead man in that tub when we left for the mainland. We all saw him.”

  “You’re positive he was dead?”

  Peters stiffened. “Absolutely certain, Sergeant. I checked for a pulse and there was none. Plus he was cold to the touch.”

  Alan peered into the hot tub and rummaged through the bathroom drawers. “What happened to Darko’s new sunglasses? The corpse was wearing them. A bloody cheek, I said at the time.”

  “Sunglasses?” Sergeant Glenn’s red eyebrows formed a question mark.

  Darko blew out a puff of air. “Custom-made Gucci shades. For whatever reason, our uninvited guest had them on.”

  Sergeant Glenn pinched the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t had enough tea to be able to cope with this. To sum up: we have a missing corpse wearing a pair of designer sunglasses?”

  “Yes,” Darko and the others said in unison.

  Creeley cleared his throat. “Should I notify the homicide team in Cork, sir?”

  “Not yet.” Glenn rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “We’ll do basic forensics in here and have a look around the island ourselves. If I call in the heavies to investigate an invisible corpse, we’ll get a bollocking from the superintendent.”

  “There is one other possibility,” Darko said, “but it seems farfetched.”

  Glenn grimaced. “This entire situation is farfetched. What’s your theory?”

  “Maybe some of the locals are playing a joke. I’ve had a few nasty letters from conservationists who weren’t happy when the council sold the island to me.”

  “Do you still have copies of these letters?”

  Darko nodded. “I gave them to Alan to file away.”

  Glenn’s jaw hardened. “I’d like to have a look at those letters before we leave.”

  “Sure,” Alan said. “I’ll dig them out.”

  Sergeant Glenn pinned them both in place with a look that would bore holes in rock. “Wasting police time is a criminal offence. Just throwing that out there as a reminder.”

  Darko stared at the empty hot tub and felt the familiar signs of an impending panic attack: shallow breathing, heart palpitations, and a tingling in his fingers and toes. “Believe it or not, I wish this was a prank,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I should be thrilled that the dead body is gone, but I find its sudden disappearance even more alarming than its discovery.”

  “Possibly not as alarming as I find this entire scenario,” Glenn said dryly. “Am I to understand that we have a corpse wandering the island wearing nothing but a pair of your sunglasses?”

  “I guess so.” Screw Sergeant Glenn and his penetrating stare. Better to take his medication than end up on the floor in a hyperventilating heap. Darko slid his antianxiety medication from his pocket and popped a pill. The policeman watched his every movement with narrowed eyes.

  Sighing, Darko tossed the man the pack. “Lorazepam. If I don’t take one now, you will think my behavior is weird.”

  The policeman examined the label and handed the package back to Darko. “Do you have surveillance cameras? If so, the footage might show your mystery man.”

  Darko scratched the back of his neck. “Whoever put the dead man in here could have removed him and left the island by boat. We can check the cameras, but they have some blind spots over the cliffs.”

  Alan shivered. “What if the murderer is still hiding on the island?”

  “I find that unlikely,” Darko said. “The island isn’t that big and it’s fairly flat. We can see from one end of it to the other through the windows. That means the only place for someone to hide is down in one of the caves. In this weather, I doubt they’d want to hang around long.”

  “I’m not familiar with Inish Glas,” Glenn said. “I’ve only been out here once before. Are there many caves?”

  From his breast pocket, Peters produced a map of the island with a flourish. “I took the opportunity of fetching this from the office when we got home. While the surface of Inish Glas is flat, the cliffs are steep and rugged and riddled with small coves and caves. It’s feasible to hide a small boat where we wouldn’t see it.”

  “The pertinent question is why,” Darko added. “Why would anyone go to the trouble of putting a dead body in my tub only to remove it the instant we leave for the mainland?”

  “The logical conclusion is that the man was killed here.” Glenn scrutinized the map. “If you say it couldn’t have been suicide—”

  “Absolutely not,” Peters interjected. “He looked like he’d been strangled.”

  “—then he wasn’t the only stranger on the island. At least one other person was with him. Presumably this person or these persons killed him and removed the body later on.” Sergeant Glenn sighed and scratched one of his overly large ears. “As I said, Garda Creedon and I will check the bathroom for blood and other substances, and then we’ll have a look around the island. In the meantime, I’d like you to make a copy of your surveillance footage for us. You can email it to us if you don’t get it done before we leave.”

  Alan harrumphed loudly.

  Darko shot him a rueful look. “About the Internet…we currently have none. I’ll make you a copy straight away and have it ready before you leave.”

  “Fair enough.” Glenn’s hard expression didn’t soften. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a missing corpse to find.”

  SIX

  The following morning was dry but bitterly cold. Muireann shivered and pulled her heavy jacket close across her chest. The salty sea breeze whipped her ponytail around her head and stung her eyes. She and James-David had met Alan Saunders at the harbor an hour ago and were powering toward Inish Glas aboard a small but luxurious yacht.

  James-David played on the deck, happily rolling around and giggling at the rocking motion of the boat. At least one of them was having fun. Muireann’s stomach roiled and she ran to the side of the boat. She’d felt ill from the moment they’d cast off, yet the baby who threw up every time they got in the car was perfectly well.

  “Not long now,” Alan Saunders called while she gulped for air. “You can see the island clearly in the distance. Have you ever been out here before?”

  “Once on a school trip,” she said between gasps. “It was still a nature reserve then.”

  The place had given her the creeps. The shell of the building that had housed the former asylum was still on the island in those days. She and her classmates had explored the overgrown building and dared one another to sneak inside.

  “I don’t know what Darko will say about your son coming along,” Alan called over the wind. “The house is big, but it’s not child-proof. You’ll need to watch him on the stairs.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to take both of us.”

  Alan steered the boat into a small cove dotted with bright orange buoys. “You’ll have to get childcare sorted soon. Darko likes peace and quiet. He won’t be keen on having a baby in the house. Assuming you agree to stay, of course.”

  She frowned. “Why wouldn’t I agree to stay? I’ve alre
ady signed the contract.”

  “Well…” The man’s jovial expression dimmed. “Darko can fill you in on the details.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “More bizarre than ominous. Put it this way: we’ve had an interesting twenty-four hours on Inish Glas.”

  This made her laugh. “I doubt they can have been as bizarre as my day was yesterday.”

  Alan grimaced. “I wouldn’t bet on it. At any rate, Darko is on edge. I’m not sure how he’ll react to our pint-sized guest.”

  “I’ll do my best to keep James-David out of his way. I’m hoping to have a sitter lined up by next week. My aunt knows everyone in Ballybeg and she’s asking around.”

  “I only let you take the kid with you today because you had an air of desperation about you.”

  That made her smile. “Was it so obvious?”

  “Palpable.” He flashed her an impish grin. “Besides, I have to admit I’m looking forward to seeing Darko’s face when we show up with a toddler in tow.”

  They docked at a small pier beside two other boats, and Alan helped her and James-David off the yacht. The rugged facade of the cliffs towered before her, tall and menacing. A prickle of unease settled between her shoulder blades.

  “There’s an elevator at the bottom of the pier,” Alan said, taking one of the suitcases and the case containing the travel cot. “It leads directly up to the house.”

  Muireann followed him down the narrow wooden walkway, holding James-David’s hand and dragging a wheelie suitcase behind her.

  Slate-gray cliffs loomed before her, eerie and menacing. The authorities couldn’t have chosen a more ideal spot for an asylum. The strong currents and long distance to the mainland would deter even the strongest swimmer from attempting to escape. Unless they had access to a boat to steal, that method of transportation would have also been out of the question.

  A small metal box was built into the side of the cliff. Alan lifted the flap and keyed in a code. As if by magic, the rock slid open to reveal an elevator.

  James-David clapped with delight when they stepped inside, and Alan punched in more numbers. Muireann dropped a kiss onto her son’s soft hair. At least he was oblivious to her stress.

  “Apart from you and James-David, there’s four of us on the island. Me, Darko, Peters the butler, and Jean-Baptiste the chef. I escape every chance I get. Jean-Baptiste spends his free days sailing around the islands, and Peters prefers to use his free time locked in his room with a book.” Alan grinned. “As you can probably guess from my description, we’re a merry bunch.”

  Muireann laughed. “You sound charming.”

  She certainly hoped they were. The housekeeping job had the added advantage of allowing her to get to know Damian before committing to the DNA test plan. If he turned out to be a complete arsehole, she’d back away. No amount of child support was worth subjecting her son to a dickhead father.

  On the other hand, if Damian was a decent guy, James-David deserved to get to know him. Despite their humiliating encounter yesterday, Damian had seemed like a nice person when she’d met him in Australia. Or had he merely been playing a role while enjoying the anonymity of being a tourist? After all, she’d been bouncing around Australia pretending to be someone—anyone—who wasn’t Muireann Byrne, jilted bride.

  Whatever his motive for introducing himself as Damian and leaving out the rock star part from his autobiography, surely her radar hadn’t been totally off? Although they’d both regarded their relationship as nothing more than a holiday fling, she wouldn’t have slept with him if she’d pegged him as a douche.

  The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open. Muireann’s breath caught in her throat. “This place is stunning.” She stepped out of the elevator and gazed around the open-plan living space. A glass wall on two sides of the house provided stunning views of the island and of the sea beyond.

  “Nice, eh?” Alan said, dropping her case on the floor.

  “It’s more than nice. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Did he use Mina Mulcahy for the interior deco?” Muireann had trained under Mina before she’d set up her own business—the business her father destroyed when the shite had hit the fan.

  “Yeah. I chose her, actually. Darko’s not an interior deco sort of person.”

  She wandered the living room area, pausing briefly to check out an impressive collection of board games. She came to halt in front of a stunning oil painting of the island. “Did Dam—Darko—paint this?”

  Alan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, he did. How did you guess?”

  “I—” She broke off abruptly, biting her tongue before she mentioned her previous acquaintance with his boss. “Should I put our stuff in the room we’ll be sleeping in, or should I meet the boss first?”

  “Peters, the butler, will take care of the luggage.” Alan pulled a face, making a comical grimace. “It’s probably best to get the meeting with Darko over with. If he totally freaks out, there’s still time to get you back to the mainland before nightfall.”

  A comforting thought. Part of her longed to bolt.

  Alan led the way down a flight of metal stairs. Muireann followed, clutching James-David in her arms.

  “If you want to work out while you’re here, the gym is down the hall to the left and the indoor pool is opposite. Darko’s home recording studio is down this way.” Alan gestured to the right. “He’s not recording anything at the moment, but he’s using the studio for peace and quiet while he composes new songs.”

  Muireann maneuvered her way down the winding stairs. “Does his band have a new album due out soon?”

  “No. Confetti Underground is taking a ‘creative break.’” The man used air quotes. “I guess you heard one of the band members died last year?”

  A vague memory of lurid newspaper headlines flashed through her mind. “I think I read about that. Col someone or other. I’m afraid rock music isn’t my thing.”

  Alan grinned. “That’ll be a novelty.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Darko’s used to fawning females throwing themselves at him.”

  “Well, I have no intention of throwing myself at him,” Muireann said stiffly. Been there, done that, had his baby. A perverse ripple of laughter bubbled in her throat.

  Alan knocked on a thick metal door. Once it was open a crack, guitar music and melodious humming spilled out. “Soundproofing,” he said, correctly interpreting the look of surprise on her face.

  The P.A. pushed the door wide and ushered Muireann and James-David inside.

  Damian stopped strumming his guitar and glanced up. Light from the window streamed in, catching the various colors in his short beard—brown and red and gold. His eyes widened in recognition when he saw Muireann and James-David, and her treacherous heart performed an acrobatic flip.

  “Hey,” he said, standing and brushing his palms down the front of his dark blue jeans. “What are you two doing out here?”

  Alan glanced quickly from Muireann to Damian and back again. “You’ve already met?”

  Damian placed his guitar on its stand and straightened. “Yeah. I gave Mary a lift yesterday, and she showed me where to find the police station. I was expecting to see my new housekeeper.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait a sec. You’re not—?”

  Muireann took a deep breath and felt her heart hammering in her chest. “I’m your new housekeeper.”

  His eyebrows shot up and his gaze dropped to James-David in her arms.

  “A babysitting crisis,” she said before he could object.

  He rubbed his jaw. “The house isn’t suitable for small children. What will you do with him while you’re working?”

  “I’ll make sure he’s with me at all times.”

  “Hmm…” he said with a low chuckle, “that’s what my mum used to say when she took me to work. I always found a way to escape.”

  “I’ll keep him out of your way. He’s generally a happy child.” Except for the odd tantrum…best skip that part.

&nbs
p; James-David wriggled to get down.

  Muireann’s bad back ached, and putting him by her feet was a relief. “Stay by me.”

  The baby ignored her and took off like a shot, staggering toward Damian as though he’d been propelled out of a cannon.

  Muireann’s heart clenched when Damian crouched down to James-David’s level. “Hey there, little man. Were you so taken with my sports car that you decided you’d come check out my house?”

  “Anker.” James-David used Damian’s knees to steady himself. “Nice anker.”

  “What did he just call you?” Alan asked.

  “A wanker.” Damian winked at Muireann. “He and his mother feel the term fits my personality. At least the little guy qualified it with ‘nice.’”

  Heat suffused her cheeks. “Damian and I had a…misunderstanding yesterday.”

  “Is that so?” The P.A.’s sly grin widened. “I’d better leave you two to sort out the details of your working arrangement.”

  “So,” Damian said after Alan left, “how’s this going to work? I’ve employed you for the next six months to live on the island and help my butler take care of the house. How were you planning to combine a live-in position with raising a baby?”

  She swallowed. “I understand I’m to be physically present on the island from Sunday evening to Saturday morning. I plan to spend the weekends in Ballybeg with James-David.”

  “And the rest of the time? Do you have a babysitter lined up?”

  She bit her lip. “One of my school friends is a trained nanny. She was supposed to look after him during the day, and my aunt was to take him overnight. Unfortunately, my friend fecked off to Magaluf with her new boyfriend at the last minute.”

  “Leaving you with no one to look after James-David.”

  “Exactly.” She exhaled a sigh. “I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this, but it was either bring him with me or quit before I’d even started the job. At the very least, it offers me the opportunity to pay you back for my car repairs.” Regardless of you being my son’s father, I need the money. Desperately.