For whom the bell tolls . . .
The O’Sullivan clan of County Cork, Ireland, are thrilled to be catering the matrimonial affairs of a celebrity couple—until a cunning killer turns an Irish wedding into an Irish wake . . .
Any wedding is a big deal in the small village of Kilbane—even more so when the bride is a famous fashion model. Siobhán O’Sullivan and her five siblings have a full plate catering for the three-day affair. But when the best man is found murdered in the woods, his replacement, Siobhán’s own beau, local garda Macdara Flannery, is suddenly the best suspect. Like the bride walking down the aisle, Siobhán needs to watch her step. For as she gets closer to unveiling the truth, the murderer is planning a very chilly reception for her . . .
PRAISE FOR MURDER IN AN IRISH VILLAGE
“A smart whodunnit in an idyllic locale. I dare you not to be charmed by sleuth Siobhan and her siblings, the O’Sullivan Six.”
—Barbara Ross, author of Fogged Inn
“This entertaining combination of Maeve Binchy’s old-world Irish charm and Janet Evanovich’s roguish humor is a smart, fast-paced read. Devotees of the Hibernian mysteries of Dicey Deere and M.C. Beaton will toast this debut with a pint of Guinness. Sláinte!”
About the Author
Carlene O’Connor comes from a long line of Irish storytellers. Her great-grandmother emigrated from Ireland filled with tales and the stories have been flowing ever since. Of all the places across the pond she’s wandered, she fell most in love with a walled town in County Limerick and was inspired to create the town of Kilbane, County Cork. Carlene currently divides her time between New York and the Emerald Isle. She is currently at work on the next book in the Irish Village Mystery series.
Read an Excerpt
Murder at an Irish Wedding
By Carlene O'Connor
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.Copyright © 2017 Mary Carter
All rights reserved.
As the sun rose over Kilbane Castle, it struck the stained-glass window in the highest turret, casting the grounds below in an unearthly glow. A breeze whispered through the grass, rippling the wedding tents, making them shiver down to their stakes. Neighboring hills shook off the morning mist, and wooly apparitions began to dot their peaks, grazing and bleating into the damp fall air. From a room high up in the castle, Kevin Gallagher lay in bed, battling the terrors. Pre-wedding celebrations were in full swing and a bit of drink the night before had loosened his tongue. Upon his stumbling return to the castle, he may have upset a few heads in the Cahill/Donnelly wedding party. He blinked at the ceiling and tried for the life of him to remember the carnage.
He'd told Paul Donnelly, the groom-to-be, that only an eejit would marry a beautiful woman. And Alice Cahill wasn't just beautiful, she was downright gorgeous. A proper fashion model to boot. She was way out of Paul Donnelly's league, and if his best man couldn't tell him, then who could?
"You always have to watch your back with a beautiful woman," Kevin slurred on the way home from the pubs. They tripped along on the cobblestone streets of Kilbane as the morning birds began to trill, with the rhythm of the fella playing the spoons in O'Rourke's still thrumming in his chest. "An ugly woman, that's the way to go. Never have to be afraid of losing her. And that father-in-law! Who in his right mind would want to be related to Colm Cahill? If I were you, I'd do a runner and save m'self a life of misery, lad!"
"Shut your gob," Paul said. "You're bollixed."
"Would Alice still marry you if she knew all your secrets?" Kevin clapped Paul hard on the back, causing him to stumble.
When he recovered, Paul's eyes burned with rage. "What secrets are you on about?"
"I could tell Alice a thing or t'ree about her groom-to-be, now couldn't I?" Kevin joked. He and Paul had known each other since they were grasshoppers.
"I can't believe I chose you as my best man." Paul was practically roaring down the streets, his handsome face creased with rage. Kevin had never seen him so furious. He was only messing. Was Paul really worried about his secrets? Why, Paul Donnelly's secrets couldn't shock a virgin on her first day at the nunnery. If you couldn't take a bit of ribbing before snapping on the old ball and chain, then when could ye?
Kevin had had a falling out with Colm Cahill too. The father of the bride was having a cigar around the back of the castle, and the trail of sweet smoke drew Kevin directly to him. Colm was planted between a maze of shrubs, with his cigar in one hand and a glass of Jameson in the other. Ice cubes clinked and crickets chirped. The fat yellow moon hung low, and stars dotted the sky like diamonds. Reminded Kevin of the rock on Alice's hand. She'd better be careful flashing that yoke around.
Colm Cahill made his fortune on a start-up technology company called Swipe-It. An app that allowed you to pay for things with the swipe of a finger. Made himself a pile of money. Can ye imagine that? Making money off taking people's money? The world was upside-down, it was. Kevin had tried to talk a little business with Mr. Moneybags — had a great idea for a new app called Alibi. If the wife was out of town and a man wanted to do a bit of sneaking around, he could send the missus a phony selfie showing himself doing the washing. Of course, she'd expect the washing to be done when she returned, but every new idea had a few bits and bobs to work out.
It wasn't until Kevin was nearly on him that he saw Mr. Moneybags was talking on his mobile. "Just do it. Send the confirmation to the castle."
"How nice to be bossing people around at this hour of the mornin'. Business never sleeps, does it?" Kevin called out.
The old tyrant whirled around. "What is the matter with you? Sneaking up on a person like that."
"I'm having a stroll. Just like you."
"Listening in on me conversation, were you?"
"Your conversation intruded on me, not the other way around."
Colm's face was scrunched with rage. He shook his fist. "Pack your bags and go home."
Kevin shook his head and glanced at the moon. A full one sure did bring out the strange in folk. Especially this crew. "I have another business proposition for ye," Kevin started in.
"Who do you think you are?" Colm approached Kevin, his large frame towering over him.
Did he really not know who he was? Why, the old man was completely off his head. He was starting to think the sooner this wedding was done and dusted, the better. Kevin pointed to himself. "I'm the best man."
"Not anymore. You're not needed anymore." Colm threw a look over Kevin's shoulder, and Kevin whirled around to see Paul lurking behind him. Ear-wagging. Colm pointed at Paul. "Did ye hear that? Was I good and clear?" Colm stormed off. Paul stood staring after his future father-in-law, mouth agape. When he recovered, he turned on Kevin.
"What did you do?"
Kevin threw open his arms. "I am an innocent lad. Didn't even get a chance to pitch me idea."
"You're making things worse," Paul said. "For the love of God, just stay out of it." Then he whirled around and stormed off. Kevin didn't know what to make of it, but it made him feel a bit dirty.
Speaking of dirty, he might have made a pass at the mother of the bride. Susan Cahill was descending the steps to the guest rooms just as Kevin was sloshing up. He must have startled her for she cried out when she saw him. She had the look of a woman caught sneaking out. Kevin gave her a pinch on the arse and may have even planted a kiss on her middle-aged lips. Ah but sure, a woman Susan Cahill's age should be thanking him for the attention, she should. And he could see where Alice Cahill got her looks. Susan was a bit ripe, but you could still see the vestiges of beauty about her. Tall, the Cahill women, mighty tall.
There was at least one other person he had had a run-in with last night — who was it? Ah, Jaysus, for the life of him he couldn't remember. Alice, gorgeous Alice? He hadn't upset her, had he? No, she hadn't even joined the fun. Said she needed her beauty sleep, which was out and out ridiculous.
Brian? That whiny little wedding planner? Could be. Anyone who went around wearing little colored squares in their jacket deserved a bit of hassling. Ah, wait. The wedding photographer. Mr. Fancy Artist with a show coming up in Dublin. Eejit. The lad was in everyone's face with his fancy camera snapping and flashing away. It's a wonder he hadn't blinded anyone. Kevin had knocked the yoke flat out of his hands. The lens smashed to pieces on the cobblestone street. Lad should have had better reflexes. He went a bit mental from what Kevin could recall. Wailed like a woman. Said Kevin owed him five thousand euros. What a wanker!
Who else? He was forgetting someone.
Kevin sunk his sore head back into his pillow and stared at the elaborate crown molding rimming the ceiling. Such fine craftsmanship. Not like the shoddy estates going up today.
Kevin drank in the crystal chandelier, rose wallpaper, and arched limestone windows. His head throbbed, and he was damp right down to the bones in his toes.
The pints. The shots. A few pills. Oh, Jaysus. His head began to pound like a drum. Where were they exactly? Kilbane, was it? The walled town. Luckily the castle was outside the proper walls. Kevin couldn't imagine being so closed in, like.
A wave of panic hit him. Was the wedding today? It couldn't be today. He'd be puking down the aisle. No, no. T'anks be to God. The wedding was on Saturday, and today, why it was only Thursday. Lucky for him, weddings in Ireland were often three-day affairs.
Speaking of affairs — did he hear last night that someone was having one? A shocker, it was. Who was it? It was all a bit of a blur.
Something stirred next to him, and he nearly jumped out of his birthday suit. Slowly, he turned his head, and what a fright. Beside him, long blond hair fanned out over the pillow like a den of snakes. Medusa was in bed with him. Her face and body were hidden, burrowed under blankets. There was a colleen in his bed. Or was he in her bed? Perhaps every guest room looked alike.
"If I'm going to ravage anyone tonight, it'll be the maid of dishonor," Kevin suddenly remembered saying. She'd batted her eyelids and wiggled her full hips at him all night. He glanced over at the snoring beauty. What was her name? Ah, right. Brenna. Too bad she was nowhere nearly as gorgeous as Alice. Then again, who was?
How cliché. The maid of honor and the best man knocking boots. His eyes landed on the nightstand. His wallet. Keys. A folded-up piece of paper. He snatched it up. The message was typed and centered:
More when the deed is done. Meet me at sunrise. Top of the hill.
Deed? What deed? More what when the deed was done? Once more he glanced at the nightstand, where his eyes landed on the answer, and it came as quite a delight. A thick stack of euros tied up with a little red string. He swiped it up and fanned through it. Why, there were at least a thousand euros here. He read the note again. The hill. The one behind the castle?
Kevin ran his fingers through his hair and plucked his packet of fags off the nightstand. He started to light up, then thought better of it. He might wake the bird. The last thing he needed was Brenna clucking around his business. It was almost sunrise. The note sounded a bit desperate. Parting desperate folks from their money was well within Kevin Gallagher's skill set.
He sat up, fighting the throbbing in his skull, and reached for the blue tracksuit hanging on the chair. Every member of the wedding party had been given the silly tracksuits. Alice had insisted on a group photo in front of the castle before breakfast. He'd have to hurry to the hill if he wanted to be back in time for the photo. Only thing worse than marrying a beautiful woman was riling one up. Especially one about to get married. He dressed, donned his trusty watch and gold chain, then shoved the money and note into his tracksuit pocket and crept out of the room.
He began to whistle a little tune as he wondered who would be waiting atop the hill. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to strike a killer of a deal.CHAPTER 2
Siobhán O'Sullivan clutched her platter of brown bread and met the steely gaze of the castle security guard head-on. A beefy lad, for sure, but a baby was all he was, no more than eighteen years of age, if she had to guess.
"I'm tellin' ye, I'm a guest of Macdara Flannery. Garda Flannery." Usually her auburn locks and bright smile were enough to disarm a young man, but this one seemed immune.
"And I'm tellin' ye. You're not on the list." He stared at his clipboard as if it contained all the mysteries of Ireland. As security guards went, he was as intimidating as their new Jack Russell pup, Trigger.
"There's been an emergency." Siobhán hoisted the platter of bread. "Seems the chef here is French — which is all well and good for the tourists, but as you know, the bride and groom are Irish."
"I know, yeah," he said. "I'm a Limerick man myself." Pride rang through his voice. Well then, why wasn't he letting Siobhán pass? Imagine, seconds from now she was actually going to get to meet Alice Cahill. Tucked underneath the platter was the most recent fashion magazine that sported the gorgeous Alice on the cover. Siobhán had promised her sisters she'd try to get Alice to sign it. Gráinne and Ann, two blossoming beauties themselves, were most definitely starstruck.
The security guard glanced at her pink Vespa parked a few feet away. In addition to her prized cappuccino machine back at the bistro, the scooter was near and dear to her heart. She'd been riding it so often it was starting to feel like an extra appendage. It was the one thing she had that was just for her. When she was on it, the breeze in her face, the thrum of the machine through her body, it was like a little escape. A momentary break in her responsibilities when she could imagine there was nothing between her and the rest of her life but an open road and the Irish countryside. The security guard's lip twitched. Apparently he'd never seen a guest ride up on a pink scooter.
"You'll mind it, won't ye?" she asked him. "It's very dear." He looked startled as if she'd just asked him to wash her delicates. Just when Siobhán thought she was either going to have to kiss him or kick him, a heavenly voice rang out.
"Siobhán O'Sullivan?" Alice Cahill was floating toward them in a plain blue tracksuit, yet despite the casual attire, she was just as glamorous as her magazine covers. Long, ebony hair that flowed out in perfect waves, sky-blue eyes with thick eyelashes, and at six feet tall, she was just a few inches taller than Siobhán. "She's with me, Val," Alice said, lightly touching his arm.
Val's face flamed up, and he stepped back from the gate. "By all means." He waved Siobhán through as if puzzled that she was still standing on the outside.
"Thanks, luv," Alice winked. Val straightened himself up, and if Siobhán had had a handkerchief she'd have been wiping the drool off his double chin. There was a definite power that came with beauty and, unlike Siobhán, Alice seemed completely at ease with it. Siobhán could learn a thing or three from the fashion model.
Alice linked arms with Siobhán and began to escort her up the winding drive to the castle. "Your hair is gorgeous. Like the sun lit it on fire. You probably get sick of hearing that."
She was sick of hearing it, but not from the likes of Alice Cahill. "It's an honor to meet you," Siobhán stammered. In the distance, white tents dotted the sweeping, lush grounds.
"Any friend of Garda Macdara Flannery is a friend of mine. Paul just adores him. The two of them are thick as thieves. You'd never know they haven't seen each other since university."
At the mention of Macdara Flannery, Siobhán felt the top of her head lift off and soar toward the Ballyhoura Mountains. She wondered where he was, then forcefully put the top of her head back on and pushed all such thoughts away. He hadn't invited her to the wedding nor offered a word of explanation as to why not.
On the bright side — which Siobhán always tried to look on — thanks to him she was here now. Nice ruse, hinting that Alice should try Siobhán's brown bread. There were worse ways to spend a morning than at a castle with a gorgeous fashion model. Not to mention how nice it was to be near another tall woman. At five feet nine Siobhán usually towered over everyone. She loved standing next to Alice.
The castle and grounds were gorgeously framed by the Irish sky, the Ballyhoura Mountains, and a wooded hillside. The air smelled of lavender and heather, and the promise of an earthy rain.
Within the castle grounds, wealth and beauty flirted in equal measure. Interspersed amongst expanses of green lawn were manicured gardens delineated by polished black stones. The gardens were arranged into distinct sections: blossoming flowers of nearly every color in the rainbow, manicured hedges, and sculpted topiary. Wild heather grew in patches along the stone wall surrounding the grounds. Several fountains were strategically placed in the middle of the gardens, sculptures of angels spouting water. There was even a small moat, complete with a stone bridge crossing over a creek.
The castle, a fifteenth-century structure, was a grand affair. It boasted two turrets and a stunning stained-glass window. Stone lions flanked the massive front entrance. Siobhán was dying to have more of a walkabout, but Alice headed straight for the tents, where three women dressed in identical blue tracksuits were huddled in a clump. The eldest two were gripping mugs of tea like they were miniature lifeboats, while the younger one, a blonde, was examining her fingernails. When they neared, the blonde broke out of the group and practically lunged for Alice.
Her eyes were bloodshot and her skin splotchy, and her hair looked like it could conduct electricity. Like Alice and Siobhán, she appeared to be in her early twenties. Probably pretty if she had a bit of sleep and a bit of sense. She raised her arms as if waving in an aeroplane. "Thanks be to God, the brown bread is here." Alice's lips tightened, and she shook her head in admonishment. The blonde just laughed and flicked her eyes to Siobhán. "Alice has been losing the plot." Her voice was raspy, as if she'd spent the night screaming. "We've got a French chef making hot, buttery croissants, and herself wants brown bread!"
Alice blinked her disapproval. "Macdara said Siobhán's brown bread is the best he's ever tasted." She flashed a smile. "The best in County Cork."
Excerpted from Murder at an Irish Wedding by Carlene O'Connor. Copyright © 2017 Mary Carter. Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Totally enjoyable. I recommend it highly.
This book kept me intrigued the way through. I love the descriptive way the author made you feel as if you were in Ireland
Great character development and the plot moves along at a pace that keeps the reader invested in the story.
Super simplistic and kind of boring.
Murder at an Irish Wedding is the second book in the Irish Village Mystery series by author Carlene O'Connor, and I hope it won't be the last! The story was fast-paced, and kept me on the edge of my seat and guessing throughout. We return again to Kilbane, where the wedding of a famous model and her fiance (a friend of Macdara) is to take place. The best man is murdered the day before the wedding, Macdara is unable to investigate due to his relationship with the groom and bridal party, and Siobahn is asked to help out. The rest of the O'Sullivan 6 and most of the residents of Kilbane also feature in the book, as well as a host of characters brought in for the wedding. The ending took me by surprise (always a plus!!!), and I'm looking forward to reading about Siobahn's future adventures. Highly recommend! :-)
I loved the first book in this series and was happy to see that the author is continuing with a new cozy mystery. Carlene O’Connor based this series on the actual town of Kilbane, County Cork in Ireland that she is familiar with and loves. I’m sure that’s the reason why the book has so many little details about the town and people. I love to “travel” when I read, so I’m always thrilled when an author gives me an glimpse of what life is like in other countries. The Sullivan 6, Siobhan and her siblings, are back in this book with another mystery to solve. I enjoyed reading about the new characters, although they weren’t all likeable. The story kept me guessing until the end when Carlene wrapped up everything nicely. One of the things that bothered me about the book was the frequent use of Jaysus, Irish for Jesus, as an exclamation throughout. I don’t typically see things like that in cozy mysteries, and that is one of the reasons I read them. I don’t think it adds anything to a story, and as a Christian, I’d rather not have it pop up all the time.
Murder at an Irish Wedding is the second book in the Irish Village Mystery series by author Carlene O'Connor. If you have not read the first one, this book could be read as a stand alone. The only difficulty may be getting familiar with Irish slang and the names which were explained in the first book. Siobhan O'Sullivan and her five younger siblings run Naomi's Bistro in the small village of Kilbane. They inherited the cafe when both parents were killed in an automobile accident. In this story, Alice, a famous and rich fashion model, is getting married to Paul, a friend of Macdara's (Siobhan's boyfriend). When the best man is murdered the day before the wedding, Macdara is unable to investigate because he was in the wedding party and they are all suspects. He asks Siobahn to help out. There are a lot of suspects from the bride's parents who think Paul is not worthy of their daughter, to the photographer who is always sneaking around, the chef who found the body, the groom's parents who do not like Alice's family and even the groom who hates the brides father. The rest of the O'Sullivan 6 and many of the residents of Kilbane add some meat to the story as well as some humour. The one thing that bothered me about this book was the way Siobhan treated the people she was questioning. She was rather rude and obnoxious and did not seem to have any concern with personal boundaries. Even though she was trying to solve the crime, she is not a gard and therefore really did not have a leg to stand on, yet pretty much everyone answered her questions. It turns out that once again, she proves that she is a good investigator. She asks intelligent questions, she is a good listener and she is very observant. The story was fast-paced, and kept me guessing throughout. Once I got part way into the book, I did not want to put it down until I found out who the murderer was. The ending took me by surprise which always makes a good read for me. I'm looking forward to reading about Siobahn's future adventures. There are a lot of ways that Siobhan's, her siblings' and Macdara's lives could go. I recommend this book to anyone who likes a relatively non-violent mystery. The publisher generously provided me with a copy of this book via Netgalley.
Murder at an Irish Wedding by Carlene O’Connor is the second book in An Irish Village Mystery series. Siobhan O’Sullivan is called to bring brown bread up to the Kilbane Castle for a wedding party. Her families’ café, Noami’s Bistro is catering the meals for the wedding group. Fashion model Alice Cahill is marrying Paul Donnelly on Saturday. The female members of the wedding party are outside waiting for the guys to show up to take a group picture (they are all in matching blue tracksuits). The men slowly show up, but one member is still at large. Kevin Gallagher, the best man, has not been seen. They soon hear a scream, and Chef Antoine runs out of the woods. He states there is a dead body in the woods. Garda Macdara Flannery is among the wedding guests and he takes off to check out the chef’s story. Siobhan, of course, is not about to be left behind. The dead man is face down so they cannot confirm his identity. Siobhan does notice that Macdara’s garda cap is under the man’s arm. Instead of investigating the crime, Macdara ends up at the top of the suspect list. Siobhan feels compelled to investigate the murder (she feels it is her calling). She starts questioning the wedding guests while they are awaiting for the investigators. The bride’s father, Colm Cahill is glad there is a reason to call off the wedding. Siobhan, though, offers to help Alice find an alternate location. Colm feels Alice is marrying beneath her. Alice is determined to have her wedding day and marry the love of her life. The local garda do not appreciate Siobhan’s assistance with the case, but that does not deter her. When a second victim turns up dead, Siobhan hatches a plan to catch the killer. I found Murder at an Irish Wedding to be easy to read and has a lovely setting. I have always wanted to visit Ireland. Murder at an Irish Wedding is not my type of cozy mystery. I found it a little far-fetched and over-the-top. Each member of the wedding party is worse than the next (of course). They all have issues. Siobhan is a very unpleasant character. Her idea of an investigation is to run around annoying people with her questions and badgering them for answers. I have no idea why anyone outside of her village would answer her questions. Siobhan steals evidence and withholds it from the police (unless it suits her). She then badgers the investigator in charge with her theories (which they do not appreciate). Many times, Siobhan passes herself off as an officer of the law (she is dating an officer which is close to the truth according to her). Then, all of the sudden, the police allow Siobhan to help (it makes no sense). Siobhan believes herself to be the best investigator in the town (which is mentioned more than once). The book is packed full of action. It is one silly thing after another. I give Murder at an Irish Wedding 2 out of 5 stars (just too ridiculous). The best part of the book is the mystery. If you are an avid mystery reader, you should be able to identify the killer before the reveal (this is why I gave it 2 stars). The author used many clichés in this novel. I also found three different words for garda. We have garda, guard, and gardai (which one is it). At the wedding the author trotted out numerous old Irish wedding traditions (the bride wearing blue, Irish lace, burying a Child of Prague statue, etc.). Can you imagine a bride going down the aisle carrying a horseshoe in one hand and a bell in the other?
Siobhán O’Sullivan is at it again in this second book by Carlene O'Connor. It's time for a wedding and nothing says love like a feuding family, drunk wedding attendants and of course, murder! The bride is horrified at the turn of events and when rumors begin to grow, Siobhan is the one who must solve the mystery. Her new beau, Macdara is a suspect and has no choice but to put his faith in Siobhan. I was fascinated by all the family drama in this story. I must admit, I was blown away at the end, I was kept guessing all the way through. This was an exciting addition to this series, I look forward to more! I voluntarily read an ARC of this book provided by the publisher and NetGalley.