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was pregnant? Was it Harry’s child? She knew that Gillian and Harry Townsend had been an item for years, although Harry, who was attractive and also had the distinction of being the last of a minor line of Anglo-Irish aristocracy that had lived in Leap for a couple of centuries, had been known to use his charms on a number of eager young Dublin women. “Have you seen much of Harry lately?” she asked carefully.
    Gillian gave her a fleeting smile. “Enough. He’s still up in Dublin.”
    â€œDo you know where you’re staying for now?”
    â€œMaura, I’ve only just arrived, and I haven’t made many plans.”
    Maura wavered for a moment before plunging ahead. “I have an extra bedroom, if you need a place. But I think the mattress is older than the two of us put together.”
    â€œOld Mick’s mattress? You may be right. Thanks for the offer, Maura—I’ll let you know once I’ve sorted things.”
    Maura set a cup of tea in front of Gillian as Gillian scanned the room. “Why all the long faces?” Gillian asked.
    â€œOh, right, you just got here, so you haven’t heard. A man from somewhere past Dromadoon, if I’ve got that right, disappeared yesterday afternoon. He went for a walk with his three-year-old son, and he didn’t come back. His brother went looking for him and found the boy but not John. The searchers were out until dark—but no sign of the father yet.”
    â€œOh, how terrible. Do you know the man?”
    Maura shook her head. “I don’t, but apparently a lot of people do. John Tully?”
    â€œHe’s a dairy farmer, right? His wife often has a booth at the Skibbereen market and sells the cheeses she makes. We’ve chatted now and then, when I sell there.”
    â€œWell, then I’ve probably seen her too.” The small-world effect once again, Maura noted.
    â€œI’m guessing the men have been coming in here to wait for news? Those that aren’t out searching, at least,” Gillian added.
    â€œSeems like it.”
    Mick emerged from the back room, and his face lit up at the sight of Gillian. “Welcome back! Will yeh be stayin’ fer a while?”
    â€œHi, Mick. I haven’t really decided. I’ve been kicked out of the studio at the creamery, and I have to take my painting stuff out of there.” She caught a glimpse of Billy throughthe growing crowd. “Let me say hello to Billy, will you? I’ll be back.” She wove her way over to Billy’s corner, carrying her tea with her.
    Mick watched her go, then turned to Maura. “Trouble there?”
    Maura shrugged. “I don’t know. She barely said hello.”
    The day dragged. The pub was well filled for a weekday afternoon, but most people were nursing a single pint for a very long time. After a while Maura was desperate to get some air and stretch her legs, so she volunteered to pick up some food for her staff, got their orders, then headed to the place on the corner. Once inside she greeted the owners, and after ordering, she said, “Any news?”
    Nobody asked her to explain what she meant. “No one’s shared anything with us. You?”
    â€œAbout the same. I’ve got a lot of people waiting to hear something.”
    â€œSad thing, innit, that it takes a crisis to stir up business?”
    â€œIt is.” Maura paid, then took the heavy bags he passed over the counter and reluctantly made her way back. She hadn’t reached the door to Sullivan’s when Sean Murphy pulled up alongside her in his police car, then parked. He climbed out and gestured toward the bench next to the bus stop. Maura felt a small pang of fear.
    He must have noticed her expression, because he said quickly, “It’s nothing bad. We’ve found nothing, which doesn’t tell us much.”
    â€œI hate to be a downer, but don’t bodies sink before they float?”
    â€œOften,