Death at the Turlough Museum
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Published by: Turlough, Nolan Publishing
Release Date: January 25, 2022
Pages: 250
ISBN13: 978-0960056750
Synopsis
Enjoy this amateur sleuth mystery with American Star O’Brien racing to rescue Aunt Georgina from a killer in their midst…
Have you met Star O’Brien, the amateur female sleuth? She’s had so many losses in her life, she’s afraid to love again. Instead, she fights for the lost souls.
This third Star O’Brien, cozy murder mystery finds the fiercely independent amateur sleuth once again in stunningly beautiful and historic County Mayo, Ireland, this time in the charming village of Turlough. The body of a local pub owner who’d been involved in a numbers running racket has been found draped in an exhibit at the Turlough Museum. And Star’s Aunt Georgina is the prime suspect.
Never one to trust the police, Star is sure they have it wrong again. They’ve identified Georgina—the man’s former confidante—as the prime suspect. Then, when she disappears, they consider her a fugitive from justice. Star prefers working alone, but stymied and challenged at every turn, she may have to reluctantly accept assistance from Lorcan McHale and Lady Marcella McHale.
To complicate matters, the elusive Evelyn Cosgrove makes a mysterious request for Star to meet her at a remote location on a specific day, at a specific time. Does the woman hold any real information about Star’s missing mother or is she toying with her? In a race to find the truth, can Star find justice for Georgina and pinpoint the real murderer?
Add on GoodreadsPraise
“An amazing mystery from a first-time writer for me. Intriguing from start to finish with twists and turns to keep you guessing. The main character is strong and great at the job. Well written.”
-Jackie, BookBub follower on Death at the Turlough Museum
Excerpt
It was one hell of a night to be on the greenway between County Mayo's capital town of Castlebar and Turlough Park Museum of Country Life. The gusting wind lashed cold rain into Jimmy Mahoney's face, but his armpits streamed sweat.
The Castlebar River had overtaken several areas along the seven-kilometer trail. Most days, especially Sundays, walkers, cyclists, and joggers crowded along the walkway's bridges, fields, and macadamed sections toward Turlough House's Rooster's Café. Upon arrival, a steaming pot of tea, complemented by a decadent chocolate Madeira cake, rewarded the energetic who finished the two-hour jaunt.
Well after 10:00 p.m. on a weekday evening, Jimmy didn't expect to encounter anyone other than his numbers-running boss. Anxious to get over what he was about to do, Jimmy took long strides. “Damn that woman,” he shouted when the wind slapped a branch across his face. He swiped the limb away, allowing some of his anger toward Georgina to dissipate.
Then, he smiled. Georgina drove a hard bargain. He had to get out of the racket, or she'd report him to the authorities. He hadn't admitted it to her, but the ultimatum brought a sense of relief. He struggled every day with his motivation for participating in the shadow lottery gig.
After all, he was a successful entrepreneur—the owner of a pub in Neale. Money flowed. If he were honest with himself, money and success didn't drive him. No. His nature's dark side drove him into shady business deals.
Blast it. He sighed when the flooded path saturated his runners. He and Georgina hadn't been a couple for several months, but he still hoped she'd have him back. She was good for him. That was why he'd decided to quit the organization. Like no other woman before, Georgina deserved his effort to embrace the bright side of his character.
By the time he got to the meeting point, Jimmy's clothes clung to his body. Overheated and weighed down by his sodden jacket, he took it off, using a nearby tree branch as a hanger. He checked the time on his phone. His contact was late.
Jimmy wished he had a cigarette. Then he shook his head. Instead, he sent a text to Georgina: looking forward to seeing you. Smoking was another thing Georgina had made him give up.
Heavy breathing and rustling branches behind him warned that his meeting was about to commence. He shoved the phone into his pants pocket, took a deep breath, and turned to face the late arrival. For a minute, Jimmy was puzzled. The person he usually dealt with was fast-paced, but the approaching figure listed toward him as if on a collision course. Maybe the boss sent someone else, Jimmy thought. He didn't know every member of the secretive organization.
As the person drew nearer, Jimmy could see a dark stocking cap, black boots, and a puffer jacket. But the downpour made it impossible to see the person's face. Then the figure raised a hand. Good, Jimmy said to himself, at least they sent someone friendly. He stepped forward, offering a handshake.
Too late, he saw the ball-peen hammer just as the hand holding it rained down furious blows, one after another, onto Jimmy's head. His body sank to the ground.
Jimmy's final thoughts swirled through his brain before settling on how much he'd miss the smell of the damp, mossy, Irish earth. Then the darkness took him.