Free An Open Book by Sheila Connolly

She left a note for you―I know it’s here somewhere.” The
     girl turned and shuffled through odds and ends on a shelf behind the bar. “Here it
     is.” She smoothed the slightly crumpled folded piece of paper before handing it to
     Maura. “Would you care for a cup of tea? Or coffee? Americans do like their coffee,
     don’t they?”
    To Maura’s experienced eye, the coffee she spotted on a hot plate behind the bar would
     probably be suitable only for sealing asphalt. “Tea would be fine, thank you.” How
     far wrong could she go with a tea bag and hot water?
    As the girl hunted up the cup, the bag, sugar, milk, a spoon, and a napkin, Maura
     took a seat on a creaking bar stool and read the note Mrs. Nolan had left for her.
     She recognized the handwriting from the letters Gran had kept, although now it was
     much more shaky. In the note Mrs. Nolan apologized for not being able to come out
     and meet her right away, and instructed her to cross the street and talk to Ellen
     Keohane, who would fix her up just fine. Maura shook her head, trying to decipher
     what Mrs. Nolan could mean by that.
    The girl proudly set a steaming mug in front of Maura, with a tea bag tail dangling.
     At least it was Barry’s Tea, which her gran had loved―Maura couldn’t fathom crossing
     an ocean just to get a cup of Lipton. “Thank you. What do I owe you?” She’d gotten
     some euros from what she’d finally identified as an ATM at the airport, after a bit
     of wrangling with numbers—at least her debit card had worked, not that there was a
     lot in her bank account. It was funny, putting in the card and getting out a handful
     of bills with pretty pictures on them—it was like play money. Just to reassure herself,
     she had broken a few bills, buying something to drink and a bun, to have coins on
     hand, but after paying for the bus ticket she wasn’t sure how much she had―or how
     long it would need to last. She’d seen neither a bank nor an ATM in Leap so far.
    “Seeing as you’re a friend of Mrs. Nolan’s, it’s on the house,” the girl said, flashing
     a dimple. “By the way, my name’s Rose Sweeney.”
    “Nice to meet you,” Maura said. “I can’t say that I exactly know Mrs. Nolan, but my
     grandmother did.”
    “No matter, Mrs. Nolan said that we should be looking for you. At least Mick, her
     grandson, did―he’d be the one who brought the note here for you. We didn’t know when
     you’d be coming.”
    “I wasn’t sure myself—I kind of had to grab the first cheap plane ticket I could get,
     and there wasn’t time to let anyone know. Is it a problem?”
    “Mrs. Nolan knew you’d be here soon, and she let Ellen know. Don’t worry yourself.
    “So, who is this Ellen Keohane I’m supposed to find?” Maura asked.
    “She takes in a few visitors now and then, in the house over by the harbor there.”
     Rose gestured vaguely across the road. “It’s a small place, she only rents out the
     two rooms, but it’s nice. Quiet, and the views are pretty.”
    “That was nice of her. Tell me, does Ellen charge much?”
    “It’s off-season, and Ellen Keohane’s a fair woman, or so me da says. And cheaper
     than the hotel, not that there’s any space there. Full of fisherman, it is. Will you
     be staying long, or are you just stopping for a bit?”
    Maura dunked her tea bag a few times, then pulled it out of the water. “I . . . really
     don’t know. A week, maybe?” She’d booked a return flight for a week later, but only
     because it was cheaper that way. She looked around the room, darkening by the minute.
     The clock above the bar said it was only four o’clock. How could it be so dark, so
     early? “Does this place get busier?” She was the only customer, although the old man
     sleeping by the fire had a half-full pint glass in front of him. She didn’t remember
     seeing anyone pass by on the street outside in the time she’d been in the pub.
    Rose looked momentarily confused, then