Free Love and Shamrocks: Ballybeg, Book 5 by Zara Keane Page B

arrange a visit after your exams,” she said, plastering a smile on her face. “How does that sound?”
    “June is months away. Why can’t I see Dad on my birthday?”
    Clio sighed. “We’ve been over this before. Please let’s not fight.”
    The girl crossed her arms over her thin chest and treated her mother to her trademark death glance. “I’m going for a walk. We’re done unpacking, right?”
    “I unpacked the last few boxes before the Guards arrived, but I’d rather you didn’t go outside alone until we know more about this stalker story.”
    Her daughter raised an eyebrow in a facial expression so similar to Helen’s that Clio nearly cried. “You’re taking her seriously?”
    “The police are here.
They’re
taking her seriously.” Clio grabbed the sugar bowl from the cupboard and flipped the switch on the coffee machine. “See this as your cue to catch up on schoolwork before Monday.”
    Tammy’s belligerent expression slid back into place. “I don’t want to go to that school. The principal is a snob. A sure sign the kids will be too.”
    “Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. Regardless, you’re going to be attending Glencoe College as of Monday. You might as well get used to the idea.”
    The girl seemed to shrink in her oversized black sweatshirt. “I’ll hate it.”
    “If you start with that attitude, you probably will.” She brushed a stray lock of hair from her daughter’s face. Being a responsible adult sucked. Watching her child struggle with insecurities and depression was a painful reminder of her own teenage years. She didn’t want Tammy to be miserable at her new school, but they’d already been in Ballybeg for over a week. The girl couldn’t hide at home forever. “Tell you what. Why don’t you brainstorm ideas for a mural on your bedroom wall, and we can start working on it next weekend. It will be a nice treat after a hard week at school.” Since the move, she hadn’t had time to sketch or paint. She was itching to get her hands on a brush. Plus a mother-daughter art project would do them both good.
    “I’ll consider it.” Tammy replaced the milk in the fridge and paused as if willing herself to say something. “I’m sorry I broke the vase. Did Gran give you hell?”
    “Don’t worry. I told her you’d pay her something out of your pocket money.”
    The girl nodded. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll go read in my room until the police leave.”
    “Happy reading, pet. I’ll pop up once they’re gone.”
    After her daughter left the kitchen, Clio finished preparing the coffee tray. Left to her own devices, Clio was fine with a packet of sugar and a milk carton, but Helen would freak if she didn’t bring a sugar bowl and a milk jug.
    Helen…Ray…the police…
The tremors in her limbs returned. She had to pull herself together.
    Focus. Breathe. Think.
    Neither Seán nor Superintendent O’Riordan was a mind reader. They couldn’t know what she’d done—or rather, what Ray’s men had done. All she had to do was remain calm. Times were, she’d had a knack for turning every situation to her advantage, no matter the odds.
    Since Ray and his gang had attacked O’Leary, she’d lost her nerve. Time to sharpen her mettle and kick some gangster arse.

Chapter Eight
    TIME DRAGGED WHILE CLIONA was gone. Seán shifted uneasily in his chair, hearing the creak of antique wood. Until she’d left, he hadn’t realized how Cliona’s presence acted as a sandbag for his resentment toward his father’s former mistress. Now she was gone, he was struggling to maintain his professional demeanor. Helen’s coy banter with the super was enough to make him hurl.
    His eyes roved the room—anything to avoid looking at the woman. She sure had a lot of ornaments. Most were hideous. All were expensive. She’d better have good insurance.
    His gaze settled on a display table by the window. He stood to take a closer look. These pieces were older than the others. Exactly how old,