Read Kilmoon: A County Clare Mystery for Free Online Page B

Thatch, who refused to change her name to Elle Lure upon Kate’s advice, and who insisted she wasn’t queer. Not that Becky’s sexuality mattered to Kate. Some relationships deserved cultivation, and some cultivation methods were more titillating than others. However, that day Kate had decided she was finished with Becky. Kate remembered the exact thought going through her head when the letter drifted through the slot. If I have to explain to her one more time how the webcam works, I will poke my eyes out.
    She’d somehow become the diva of web porn, and along with the crush of website design work came the inevitable hand-holding of women too daft to know they couldn’t aim the computer monitors at their beds like video cameras.
    Kate fingered the letter now cradled in her palm. With a little ingenuity, she might find herself waving bye-bye to website design altogether. That cunt—that surprisingly resourceful cunt—Lonnie O’Brien might have sniffed out her profession and other bits from her laptop yesterday, but this letter’s contents were all hers. She pushed the teacup toward the table’s edge and smoothed out the stationery. The writing paper didn’t fit the tone of the letter, as if the sender had grabbed the first sheet he’d come across. Subsequent research indicated that this was probably true. Kate rubbed a pink-tinted, scalloped edge. As usual, she perused one particular paragraph.
    I’m sure you long to know why you ended up in an orphanage. For the answers, seek Liam Donellan of Lisfenora, County Clare. As an infant you had the oddest eyes.
    No details there, so either a liar she’d take lessons from or a truth-teller with an ax of hate to grind. She leaned toward truth-teller because of that last sentence. Just the detail she needed to take the letter seriously. She’d been tempted to respond, I still have those eyes . Five simple words to show her for a kindred spirit. Unfortunately, by the time she figured out how to make contact, her window of opportunity had closed.
    So here she was, in infuriatingly small Lisfenora with its second-rate village church and puffed-up sense of importance, contending with the likes of Lonnie. Despite his superior knowledge about the complication named Merrit Chase, Kate resented his intrusion into her private affairs, especially because she had no one to blame but herself. Her laptop’s security firewall was a good one—not easily decrypted—so imagine her surprise when Lonnie insisted they chat in private about money matters. So much for underestimating the locals, especially bumbling little Ivan.
    Kate sipped her tea. Nothing was happening inside Internet Café, but across the street and down half a block began the plaza, where Merrit sat on a bench with the village dosser. As Kate watched, Merrit rose and drifted in her direction. She had an ethereal quality about her that Kate found annoying, what with her flippy little dress and ballet flats. From afar, she looked inconsequential. So much so that Kate had laughed when Lonnie pointed her out earlier that morning. This was after Kate had all but shoved her first cash installment into the Lonnie fund up his nose.
    “Take a closer look sometime,” Lonnie said. “Her clothes are expensive, her teeth and posture perfect, and she takes in more than she gives away.”
    Lonnie had revealed keener perception than she’d assumed he possessed.
    Now, Kate leaned against the window, intrigued, as Merrit stopped just shy of Internet Café’s threshold and then about-faced to eye the restaurant. She trotted across the street, and Kate, who’d been about to leave, settled back in her chair. Couldn’t be more perfect. There stood the waif pressing a hand against her stomach and reading the menu posted outside. Kate surveyed the filled-to-capacity room.
    She signaled Patsy. “More tea, please.”
    “Brilliant.” Patsy’s gaze skittered toward Merrit now standing inside the entrance. “Oh, dear.”
    “I don’t