Page 3 of Beneath the Quiet

Pull yourself together, Maeve.

I return his smile, and we turn towards the menace in our midst.

“Any good ideas? Because I’ve not got a clue how to get Harry out of here.”

Aidan snorts and reaches a hand into the pocket of his overalls. “With this one? Apples always work.”

I arch a brow. “Seriously? It’s as simple as that?”

He rubs the burgundy-coloured apple on the rolled-up sleeve of his blue flannel shirt, making my eyes catch the light dusting of hair and freckles on his arm, and takes a big bite of it before he meanders slowly towards Harry. The Menace, as I vow to call him from now on, shifts on his feet and sniffs the air.

“Yes, seriously.” Aidan tilts his head to the side, his eyes on the beast in front of him. “Now, normally, you should keep well away from bulls, Detective.”

“Don’t call me that,” I huff, blowing another corkscrew tendril away from my yes. “Just Maeve, please. And I know that.” Smart arse. “But Mr. Murdoch assures me that that one is the exception to the rule, and I thought it best to trust the owner, even if I can’t trust him to keep him locked behind a fence.”

“Gave you the old song about how Harry won’t hurt a fly and just wants some attention, yeah?”

I grunt in response. Aidan doesn’t seem to need more than that because he’s so close to Harry now that I worry even the slightest breeze will make the beast turn away and run.

“The trick with Harry is not letting him get the sense that you’re afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Yeah, okay.” Quickly, and in such a swift move that I almost miss it, he presents the apple to Harry. As the scary, yet somehow jovial beast turns its head to snatch the apple from Aidan’s outstretched hand, he bends to grab the dangling rope from the ground. “Come from the big city, do you?”

“Dublin.”

“Yeah, I thought as much.” His brows knit. “You have big city written all over you.”

“Um, okay?” I joke on a snort. “Not really fair, is it? You judging me, a complete stranger, without having the complete story.”

Aidan still doesn’t as much as glance in my direction. “I beg to differ.”

I scramble for something to say, taken aback by his rudeness. There’s a time and place for getting to know the villagers, and now’s not it. I try to tamp down the curiosity his words elicit in me.

“Why don’t we stick to the topic instead of me laying out the history of my life choices?” I gripe. “Congratulations. You have the rope around Harry now, but getting him to move is going to be impossible…” My word hangs in the air as Aidan clicks his tongue, pulls on the rope, and Harry meanders along behind him and willingly follows, leaving the poor flowerbed behind.

“Told ye.” Aidan throws a knowing grin my way, his eyes laughing behind his glasses, as he walks past me. “Harry and I go way back. My knowing him might have something to do with getting him out of Mrs. McCarthy’s garden. I’ll take him back to Murdoch for you.”

As if hypnotised, I turn on my heel and watch the pair of them walk away from me and on to the country lane next to Mrs. McCarthy’s stone wall that separates her land from the road. As they reach the end of the road, I finally find my bearings again.

“Please tell Mr. Murdoch I’ll come and see him later,” I call out to Aidan. “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me,” he yells back, frowning. “And don’t call me sir. I’m not your teacher.”

I open my mouth to call after him again, but it’s too late. The pair has turned the corner, leaving me alone. Annoyed at myself for leaving any job unfinished, I turn back to the mess the bull left behind. Debris, leaves, and mud meet my eyes, and my shoulders droop a little at the sorry state of the spring flowers, bent, twisted, and dead on the ground. The last thing I would call myself is a knowledgeable gardener, but I do know that this is going to take a lot of work to sort out. I bend and start sorting through everything, hope flickering in my chest that I might be able to save a few of them so that Mrs. McCarthy at least gets to have a small bouquet of her pretties in her kitchen or whichever room in her home she prefers to put them.

I sigh and roll my neck carefully from side to side to release more tension, and when I hear creaking behind me, I brace myself and turn towards the lady I was supposed to help.

Needless to say, I failed.

“Ah, there you are,” she calls out, tray in hand. “Sorry it took me a bit long to finish with the tea, pet, but my daughter phoned.”

Careful not to rattle her before she sees the mess in front of her, I lay the few flowers I managed to salvage on the tray before I lift it from her.

“No need to apologise.” I smile. “And you shouldn’t have gone to any trouble for me.” I half-turn and then head in the direction of a small wooden garden set placed in the middle of the garden underneath what appears to be a very old tree. I can’t see more than a few buds on the stems.

She clicks her tongue. “Of course I should. You helped me get that mighty old thing out of my garden. I bet you need something nice and healthy like my peppermint tea to get some of your strength back before you head down to give its owner a very stern talking to.” She turns her sharp eyes towards me as she sits down in one of the two chairs.