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AGNES AND THE TWISTED
TRUTH
RAVEN HILL FARM MYSTERIES
BOOK THREE
JANE E DREW
Copyright © 2023 by Jane E Drew
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.
 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
 CHAPTER 1

G RACIE FITZGERALD entered Quinn’s office with a guarded look

on her face. She was twelve, tall, and slender, with long dark
curly hair and large brown eyes that manifested her intelligence.
Quinn rarely saw children, but she knew Gracie’s grandmother, Sadie
Fitzgerald, quite well, and so had agreed to see the young girl.
Sadie Fitzgerald was precisely the woman you would picture
owning a bookshop. She was in her sixties, with a good mind, a
good sense of humor, and an avid curiosity about life. A pair of wire-
rimmed glasses perpetually perched somewhere on her nose. Quinn
was a frequent visitor at her little bookshop. Over time, they had
become quite good friends. Sadie would occasionally put the kettle
on in the little room at the back of her shop and invite Quinn to have
tea and a chat. She would bring out two small wooden chairs from
the back. Then she would make a space for them to sit their cups on
one of the book-laden tables. Sadie had mentioned her
granddaughter many times, but Quinn had never met her until
today.
Gracie had lived with her grandmother since she was seven.
Unfortunately, Sadie’s daughter, Mia, had made a series of bad
choices regarding men. Gracie’s father had left long before Gracie
was born, and Mia’s next boyfriend had neglected Gracie entirely.
Whenever Mia was involved with a man, she was also neglectful of
her daughter. Finally, after a long visit with her grandmother, and
being a strong-willed and practical girl, Gracie had, at seven, refused
to go home at all. Without saying a word, she had pushed her
mother away every time she came near her. After a few days of this,
Sadie pleaded with her daughter to let Gracie stay with her
permanently, and Mia finally agreed.
Quinn invited the girl to have a seat. Gracie promptly plopped
into the chair opposite Quinn’s. She then began twirling a piece of
her hair. Her face was expressionless, and she made no eye contact
with Quinn.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gracie. I have heard so much about you
from your grandmother.” Quinn smiled as she spoke, hoping to put
the girl at ease.
Gracie looked in Quinn’s direction, still not making eye contact
and still not speaking.
“I’m guessing this is probably uncomfortable for you. I know I
would feel awkward sitting in a stranger’s office, not knowing what
to expect. I just want you to know that I don’t have any
expectations, apart from wanting you to feel safe here. Anything you
tell me is just between us.”
“Really?” Gracie looked just the slightest bit interested. “You
mean you’re not even going to tell my gran what I say?”
“No, I won’t even tell your grandmother. It has to stay between
us.” Quinn smiled again and then asked, “Do you like school?”
Gracie brightened a little at that. “I do like school. I have three
best friends, Tory, Neve, and Lennon. We’ve been best friends since
the third class.”
Quinn laughed softly. “You know, that is quite a coincidence. I’ve
had a best friend since I was about that age, too. We live together
on a farm a few miles from Ballyfrannen.”
“Why do you live with your best friend? Aren’t you married?”
Gracie looked at her questioningly.
“Well, I was married, but it turned out my husband wasn’t who I
thought he was, or maybe who I wanted him to be. Anyway, we
divorced a long time ago. Fiona, my friend, and I have both gone
through a divorce and as I’m sure you can tell by my accent, we’re
from The States. Fiona and I visited Ireland and, well, I guess we
fell in love with it. We bought a farm together, and honestly, I
wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. Fiona and I have always had a
lot in common, even as children. Both of our fathers were alcoholics,
and our mothers were pretty neglectful.” Quinn broke her rule of not
sharing her personal life, hoping this would help Gracie realize that,
unfortunately, her situation was not unique. “I guess you could say
we took care of each other. We still do.” Quinn smiled again.
“You’re lucky that you have a best friend like that, and that you
get to live with her. Not lucky to have had parents like that, though.”
And then, after a pause, “I’m sorry to hear that part.” Gracie sighed
and looked away, as though thinking about her own life.
“You know what? I think you’re lucky too. You have three best
friends and a grandmother to look after you. I think that makes you
very lucky.”
Quinn felt unexpectedly emotional. She thought of Fiona and the
childhood they had led, and she thought of the pain her parents had
caused her. This conversation was leading down a road Quinn
seldom visited, and for good reason, especially now after having
discovered her grandmother and beginning to build a relationship
with her. Since then, Quinn had felt parts of herself awakening that
had been long dormant. She had so much now, and she was
grateful. But the old feelings of shame and unworthiness always
lurked in the darker corners of her mind, telling her she didn’t
deserve any of it.
Gracie sat thinking for a moment, still twirling her hair,
considering what Quinn had said. “I never thought of it like that. I
always just feel different because most of the kids I go to school
with have a mother and a father that they live with, and I just live
with my granny.”
“Do you enjoy living with your grandmother?” Quinn paused for a
moment. “Is she good to you? Does she make you feel loved?”
Quinn could see the wheels turning as Gracie sat thinking about
that. The twirling of the hair continued.
“She is good to me, and I know she loves me a lot. It’s just
that… I wish I had a mother and a father like everyone else.” Gracie
twisted her mouth to one side, obviously not wanting to cry.
 “Well, that’s certainly understandable. I used to wish my father
didn’t drink and that my mother had more time for me. You know
what?” Gracie looked up to see what Quinn was about to say.
Quinn spoke in a quiet voice. “I would have given anything to
have had a loving grandmother to live with. That would have
seemed like heaven to me.” Quinn, again, thought of Rose. To her
horror, she realized her eyes were full of tears. In all her years as a
therapist, this had never happened. Then something else quite
unexpected happened. Gracie scooted her chair closer to Quinn’s
and reached for her hand.
“It’s okay, Dr. Langston, you have your friend, and I know my
grandmother likes you, and I’ll be your friend too.” Gracie smiled at
Quinn. “You’re a nice person, I can tell. I’m sorry your parents were
like that, and I’m sorry you didn’t have a grandmother to take you in
as I did.” Quinn saw the sweet sincerity on Gracie’s youthful face.
She had not been prepared for this. Kindness from others was
always unexpected and challenging for Quinn to accept, and now
this twelve-year-old child was, without a moment’s hesitation,
offering it so readily, even after all the unkindness she, herself, had
received.
Quinn felt emotionally cut to the bone. “I’m sorry that your
parents hurt you, too,” Quinn said the words softly as tears dripped
down her face and onto her lap. The young girl locked eyes with
Quinn for a moment, and then softly wrapped her arms around
Quinn’s neck and rested her head on her shoulder. Quinn tried,
unsuccessfully, to reign in her emotions. It was utterly
unprofessional, Quinn thought, but somehow, she knew exactly what
Gracie needed.
Gracie scooted her chair back, and they both laughed. Quinn
grabbed a tissue, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. Then she took
a deep, cleansing breath.
“Now, let’s talk more about you,” said Quinn.
Gracie sighed and then soberly told Quinn what her life had been
like living with her mother.
From the time she could remember, Gracie said, there had been
little food in the house. Occasionally, she resorted to eating
spoonfuls of sugar. At other times, she would ask the neighbor for
food. When her mother had a visitor, they would lock her in her
room. Screaming and crying did no good. Mostly, she would get
spanked hard for that, so she learned to be quiet. She hated
wearing dirty, stained clothes to school. It made her feel worthless
and embarrassed. She would leave for school with no breakfast and
usually had no lunch, either. After school, she rode the bus home to
an empty flat or to a babysitter, who yelled at her or worse. Life had
seemed hopeless, even at such a young age. The only bright spot
had been her grandmother and her Uncle Ethan, her grandmother’s
son. He called her Kiddo and played with her on her visits and gave
her his undivided attention. And he always made her laugh. He
would run around the house pretending to be a dinosaur or do
something else silly. When she was with him, she felt safe and loved,
the way she did with her grandmother. One day, after spending
several days with her grandmother and uncle, Gracie had had
enough. Her whole being rebelled at the thought of going back to
her mother’s again. So, she had fought to stay. She had pushed her
mother away and kept on pushing each time she came near her
until, finally; she had agreed to let her stay. Her act of defiance had
drastically changed her life for the better, but the past still wasn’t
finished with her. Memories of the time with her mother tormented
her. Angry thoughts filled her head. She couldn’t forget the beatings,
or being told to eat things that made her sick. She remembered the
fear she felt. And when she was some years older, and stronger and
taller, she remembered wanting to go back to the babysitter’s house
and knock on her door and not be afraid. Most of those thoughts
had left her now, though. She had forgiven her mother, but she
expected nothing from her, and she didn’t think about the babysitter
much anymore. Now, she just felt sad and different.
Quinn listened to it all, realizing that Gracie did not know how
many other people had similar stories. This girl’s intelligence and
resilience and empathy encouraged her. With a little therapy, she felt
certain Gracie could process the terrible experiences she had lived
through and get on with her life, thank god.
 CHAPTER 2

Q uinn headed home from the clinic, her mind still on the young
girl she had met that morning. It had been such an unusual
session. Never had she allowed her feelings to be seen to such a
degree by a patient. But it had seemed like the right thing to do
then, and it still felt that way to her now, so she would leave it at
that. Quinn was thankful that Sadie had sought treatment for her
granddaughter while she was still young. Quinn would arm Gracie
with much better insight to face the world. She certainly could have
done with more of that when she was young. Hadn’t she become a
psychologist to help others because she, herself, had so needed that
help? As Quinn turned into the driveway of the cottage, she shook
off those thoughts, knowing she could not share them with Fiona.
Maggie, Quinn’s Border Terrier, greeted her at the front door. She
reached down to pet the little dog as Wolfie, her next-door neighbor’
Irish Wolfhound, also loped into the room, gently wagging his tail.
Pike, Quinn’s raven, flew in, squawking a lively greeting, all of them
happy to see her. She could hear conversation coming from the
kitchen. Fiona sat at their large kitchen table, one leg crossed under
her. Her head bobbed up and down as she bantered with their
friends, Hattie and Margaret. Hattie, their next-door neighbor, was
busy pouring tea, and Margaret, who owned a bed and breakfast
nearby, was emptying a bag full of scones left over from the
morning’s breakfast. Margaret had been their first friend in Ireland
and an invaluable source of help since their move from Chicago to
Ballyfrannen. Quinn was surprised to find Agnes Meek seated at the
table.
Agnes looked at her sheepishly and said, “You mentioned I
should stop by some afternoon for tea with you and Fiona.”
“I did indeed, Agnes, and you are more than welcome.” Quinn
walked over and gave her a quick hug, and Agnes seemed to relax.
Quinn was glad to see her. Agnes had sought treatment from Quinn
at the clinic, but over time had also become a friend. Quinn grabbed
a scone from the bag and poured herself a cup of tea.
“What were you ladies talking about when I so rudely
interrupted?” Quinn stirred her tea and waited expectantly for
someone to answer.
Agnes was the first to speak. “Well, Quinn, I proceeded with the
plastic surgery I told you about. I had it almost a month ago. I’m
still a little tender but healing pretty well, I think.” Agnes pointed to
her stomach and breasts and under her arms.
Quinn took a good look at Agnes. Once severely obese, she was
now a normal weight. Her features, which had been obscured by the
weight, now revealed an attractive woman of about forty. Agnes had
certainly been through her trials in life, but she was doing well now,
thriving even. Quinn felt a kind of pride to have been a part of that
process.
“Gosh, Agnes, I’m so proud of you. You have done what few
people can. You certainly deserve a lot of credit.” Quinn meant every
word.
Agnes fairly beamed with pride. “You helped me, Quinn. I would
never have done it without you.”
“Well, for whatever part I played, you did the hard work. I hope
we’re not tempting you too much with Margaret’s delicious scones.”
Quinn smiled pleasantly at Agnes.
“I’ve learned I don’t need the entire bag of anything. One is
enough. I have other things to fill my life with.” Agnes smiled
mischievously.
“I sense that there’s a story there.” Fiona pointed her half-eaten
scone at Agnes. “Is there anything you’d like to share?”
 “Well, I have met someone.” Agnes poked her finger in her cheek
and looked at the ceiling, smiling. “He lives in Skibbereen and works
in real estate. He’s a few years younger than me, but he’s really
nice. We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months.” Agnes
looked at the women expectantly, eager for approval.
Quinn was the first to speak. “I think that’s wonderful, Agnes. I
hope we can meet him sometime.”
Agnes seemed relieved. “Oh, I would love that, Quinn! I was
considering having a party at my house this weekend. Would you all
like to come? And Margaret, I would want you to invite your brother.
Quinn, you could bring someone too if you wanted. Oh, and Hattie,
why don’t you bring Bruno Tricot? Everyone knows that man is in
love with you.”
Hattie looked startled, then pleased. “I might just do that, Agnes,
if you really don’t mind.”
Quinn frowned for a moment, not wanting to brooch the
awkward fact that Megan Murphy’s mother, Josie, was staying at
Agnes’s house. Megan had, not so long ago, tried to kill her and
Fiona.
As though reading her thoughts, Agnes added, “Oh, and Quinn, I
forgot to mention that Josie Murphy has moved to Australia with her
son. She said she needed a fresh start, and I was happy to give her
enough money to do just that.”
Quinn visibly relaxed and looked at Fee, who shrugged and then
nodded her head. She then looked at Margaret, who also nodded.
“That sounds like a great idea, Agnes. I think you can count us
all in.” Quinn smiled at Agnes.
Just then, the pigs, Hilda and Tam, began making an awful
racket. When Quinn ran out to check on them, she found Pike
hanging upside down, bat-like, swinging back and forth on a branch,
wings extended, right above their heads. This always scared the life
out of the two pigs, which Pike quite enjoyed. They ran around their
large enclosure, squealing with fright. Quinn sighed and called the
bird down to perch on her shoulder. Pike was quite pleased with
himself. Quinn tried not to laugh as she walked back to the cottage.
 After Agnes left, Fiona, Quinn, Hattie, and Margaret moved to the
living room and the warmth of the fire. They sat in companionable
silence. Finally, it was Fiona who spoke.
“Quinnie, may I ask you a question?” Fiona spoke in a lilting
voice.
“Yes, but you scare me when you use that tone. You’re never
that nice unless you want something.” Quinn looked at her friend
suspiciously.
“Oh, that’s not true at all!” Fiona feigned astonishment. “I’m
always nice. Why wouldn’t I be nice to the best and dearest friend I
could ever hope to have?” Fiona blinked innocently.
Quinn sighed, “Okay, now I’m worried. What is it you’re after,
Fiona Fitzsimmons?”
Margaret, never one to beat about the bush, said, “Jesus God,
woman, out with it before I die of old age.”
“Alright, alright, calm down, the both of you.” Fiona rearranged
herself in her chair. “Quinn, what would you think about buying a
miniature donkey? I’m sure Margaret here would be an enormous
help in educating us about donkeys.” Fiona smiled at Margaret
sweetly.
“Well, you’d be dead wrong about that, so you would! I don’t
know a blessed thing about donkeys, miniature or otherwise. Never
touched one in me life.” Margaret looked insulted.
Fiona looked surprised. “I’m sorry, Margaret; I didn’t mean to
offend you. Is there something about donkeys you don’t like?”
Margaret burst out laughing. “You should see your face! I’m only
joking with ye. Of course, I know about donkeys. Sure, didn’t I grow
up riding one around my farm? They are wonderful animals, so they
are. As loyal and loving as any dog.”
Hattie shook her head. “You’re a bunch of eejits!” She laughed
good-naturedly and then took a sip of tea before adding, “You know,
Fee, I have a fondness for donkeys too. Are there any breeders
around the area that you know of? I’m more than willing to help
take care of it.”
“Hey, wait, don’t I have any say in this at all?” Quinn looked
indignant.
 “Doesn’t look like it, Quinnie. Majority rule and all.” Fiona
shrugged her shoulders and then made a face at Quinn.
Quinn scowled, but then her face softened, as she had actually
been delighted at the thought of a pet donkey. “Wouldn’t one be
lonely, though? Maybe we should get two?”
Margaret hit the table next to her. “Oh, Jesus, god, go on with ye
then!”
All four women began to excitedly discuss the prospect of
donkeys. Margaret knew a breeder in the area. They discussed
which of the remaining outbuildings would be best for housing them
and how much of an enclosure they would need. Margaret promised
to send Daniel out the next day to give his opinion. Fiona quickly
agreed that she would need his help.
Quinn sat back and stared at the fire as the women continued
chatting. Again, she thought how different her life was from the one
she had led in Chicago, and again, she was so grateful she had
found this new life in Ireland.
 CHAPTER 3

T he day after Gracie’s session, Quinn visited Sadie Fitzgerald.

She loved spending time in the little bookshop, anyway.
As Quinn browsed the biography section, she heard Sadie’s
familiar voice coming from behind her. “Hello Quinn, I was hoping
you would stop in. Are you going to tell me how it went with Gracie,
or is that now allowed?”
Quinn turned to look at Sadie. “Allowed to a point,” laughed
Quinn.
“Why don’t I put the kettle on and clear some space for us at a
table, so we can talk?” With that, Sadie disappeared behind the blue
curtain separating her shop’s front from the private area in the back.
Once settled, Sadie spoke. “Well, you certainly were a hit with
my granddaughter! She’s talked of little else since your meeting. And
she seems so much more light-hearted. What on earth are you,
some miracle worker?”
Quinn felt flattered, but she knew she would break Gracie’s
confidence to speak about her visit. “You certainly have a wonderful
granddaughter. I was so impressed by her. I can only say, I think it
went well, and that she seems to thrive under your care.”
“Well, that’s a relief, at least. I love her so much, and I know not
having actual parents can’t be easy, but I truly do the best I can. I
think being older is a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand,
you don’t have the energy you once had, but on the other, you have
so much more wisdom.” Sadie laughed self-consciously. “I don’t
mean to be patting myself on the back. It’s just that you see things
differently at my age, and… I want Gracie to be okay once I’m gone.
Of course, she will still have my son, Ethan. He loves her as much as
I do. I just want her to be able to stand on her own two feet and not
make the same mistakes her mother did. Or, for that matter, the
same ones I made.”
Quinn sat back, thoughtfully stirring her tea. “Sadie, you really
are doing a good job raising Gracie. I would tell you if I had
concerns. But there’s one thing you need to keep in mind. She will
make mistakes. There’s no getting away from that. We can only
protect the people we love to a point. Having said that, I think
Gracie has such a level head on her shoulders. I fully expect her to
do just fine in this world and to be someone to be reckoned with.
From my brief meeting with her, I think she already is.”
Sadie seemed relieved, and they talked about other things.
After she visited with Sadie, Quinn drove home, her Volvo
handling the curves easily, making driving a pleasure. She enjoyed
the sunshine and hummed a nameless tune as she drove. Pulling
into the driveway, she saw Fiona busily working in her greenhouse.
Quinn stopped in before entering the cottage.
“How’s it going, Fiona? Any new plants you want to show off?”
“No, not really, Quinn. I’m just repotting some of these Fiddle
Leaf Figs into nicer pots. Bruno Tricot had asked if I had any to
spare. He wants more plants for his study. I have two that I intend
to give him. And I have several Chinese Money Plants for his desk
and bookcases. His house is so bright and light-filled, plants really
thrive there, and of course, Bruno has a green thumb himself.”
Bruno Tricot was their next-door neighbor. He had retired now,
but he had been a famous documentary filmmaker in his day. He
had also, in his youth, been engaged to Hattie Biggs, the woman
they rented their little restored cottage to. Hattie had spent a
lifetime looking for Bruno after he had left her at the altar thirty
years ago, even becoming a private detective. She abandoned her
career as a model and the name Antonia, though she had been one
of the most successful models of her day. But now she was Hattie
Biggs, a tall, plain-looking woman who wore no makeup and pulled
her hair back rather severely. A woman who dressed in no-nonsense
old jumpers and long tweed skirts. And a woman who had found the
man she had been searching for living right next door. Occasionally,
Hattie still transformed herself into the beautiful creature she had
once been, a feat that truly amazed her friends and caused Bruno to
fall in love with her all over again.
Quinn and Fiona considered Hattie to be one of their dearest
friends, and they had grown to like Bruno Tricot, too, over time, as
he had proved himself to be a good man and a good neighbor.
Maggie and Pike immediately greeted Quinn when she strolled
into the cottage. Nothing gave Quinn more pleasure than her
creatures. Besides Maggie and Pike, there was, of course, Hilda and
Tam, the two Sandy and Black pigs she and Fiona had purchased
from a breeder in the UK. And then came the chickens and a rooster
who also wasn’t above scaring the pigs whenever he got the chance.
Quinn and Fiona had named him Newman, and all the chickens had
names as well. Bella was the dramatic one, always clucking at
something or other and disrupting the others. Then little Alice, the
practical one, laid the most eggs and made no fuss at all. Last, there
was Hazel. Hazel had, to put it mildly, a bad temper. The other
chickens steered clear of her, never wanting to get in her crosshairs
or cross feathers, as it were. Even Newman knew that getting on the
wrong side of Hazel was a terrible idea, and he had a few missing
feathers to prove it.
Quinn gave the kitchen a good cleaning, something she enjoyed
doing. As she worked, she again thought of young Gracie Fitzgerald.
It’s funny how you can connect with some people so quickly, she
thought. Gracie felt like a kindred spirit. There seemed to be a kind
of shorthand between them, allowing them to skip the duller parts of
getting to know each other.
When Quinn had finished cleaning, she walked out onto the land.
Pike perched on her shoulder, and Maggie followed happily at her
heels, occasionally running off to chase a scent her nose had picked
up. Quinn never tired of looking at the fields, with their many shades
of green. The gorse and stone fences that ran along the edges only
added to the richness of their beauty. Quinn stopped to rub her palm
on some moss growing on several stones along the short wall. It felt
velvety under her hand. There was no place on earth where she
would rather be.
 CHAPTER 4

S aturday night arrived, the night of Agnes’s party. Quinn and

Fiona met in the living room to inspect what the other was
wearing, something they had been doing since high school.
“You look good, Quinn, … only those shoes don’t look the best
with that dress.” Fiona, never one to hold back, tilted her head and
frowned before continuing, “Why don’t you try those new black
boots you bought a while back? I’ll bet they would be perfect.”
Quinn reluctantly agreed and walked back into her bedroom to
change. A look in her full-length mirror told her Fiona had been
right. Finally, they were ready to go. It wasn’t a long drive, only a
few miles from their farm. Quinn had to admit she was curious to
see the house Agnes Meek lived in. Agnes had won the lottery some
years back and had plenty of money to spend on cars, clothes,
houses, basically anything she wanted. Quinn felt pleased that
Agnes had finally gained a measure of happiness. Her life had
certainly not been an easy one.
“Well, according to our GPS, this is it, Quinn.” Fiona headed up a
narrow road and then turned into a long, slightly inclined driveway
that led to a rather large house with a tasteful facade. The house
twinkled from small lights placed in bushes and small trees leading
up the pavement to the front porch. There were more potted plants
on the porch that also shimmered with lights, giving the whole
aspect a pleasant feeling. The front door was impressive, made of
expensive-looking stained wood with leaded glass sidelights.
 Quinn was surprised. This was not at all what she had been
expecting, given how flamboyant Agnes could be. She smiled when
she thought of the massive amounts of perfume Agnes used to wear,
not to mention the extravagant layers of makeup. Back then, Agnes
had been so troubled and overweight, Quinn realized those things
had been a compensation.
Quinn and Fiona stood on the porch exchanging glances for a
moment, and then Fiona rang the doorbell. Agnes answered the
door with a cheerful expression on her face and motioned for the
two women to come in.
There was a fine staircase in the large entry with elegantly tiled
floors. Quinn was the first to speak. “Thanks so much for inviting us
into your home, Agnes. It looks beautiful.”
“Oh, I’m glad you like it, Quinn! The exterior used to be pink with
blue shutters, but I toned it down a few months ago. I’ve redone the
interior, too. Come on; I’ll show you around.” Quinn and Fiona
followed Agnes as she showed them her house. Quinn admired the
rooms, which had been painted in muted tones and tastefully
furnished.
The last room they came to was the large living room, where
about twenty people were holding drinks and chatting. Hattie and
Bruno had already arrived and seemed not to notice them as they
stood quietly talking to each other. Hattie wore a dark blue jumpsuit
with a wide matching belt that emphasized her excellent figure.
Agnes ushered them around the room, introducing them to the
people they didn’t know. Subsequently, a young woman in black
pants and a white shirt walked by with a tray of delicious-looking
appetizers and asked them what they would like to drink. Soon they
were sitting on a large white sectional sofa, sipping wine. They
placed their small, delicate glass plates with bacon-wrapped shrimp
and other equally tantalizing delicacies on the massive coffee table
in front of them. Fiona filled her plate with as much food as the little
plate could hold. Quinn nudged her in the ribs and pointed at it
disapprovingly. Fiona only raised her eyebrows and nudged her back.
Quinn sighed and then began chatting with the woman on the other
side of her. The woman was Dermot Brennan’s mother. Quinn knew
Sophie Brennan to be a terrible gossip, so she chose her words
carefully. But she also made sure to give Dermot his due. Dermot’s
quick action at the rectory a few months ago had saved her life, and
she was truly grateful he had come to her rescue.
Finally, Agnes came back around to them. She edged herself
around the large coffee table and squished in between Quinn and
Dermot’s mother, who seemed none too happy to have to move
down the large sofa. “Are you having a good time, Quinn? This is the
first actual party I’ve ever had, so I hope I’m doing it right.”
“You would never guess this is your first party, Agnes. You’ve
done everything perfectly. Everyone is having a wonderful time.”
Quinn smiled at Agnes, reassuring.
“I’m having a great time,” said Fiona through a mouthful of food.
“I was just about to get another plateful of these delicious shrimp.”
Quinn rolled her eyes and smiled again at Agnes. “See, your
party is a hit.”
“Well, I had a reason for the party, actually, and I especially
wanted you here. Do you remember me mentioning that I had met
someone?” Agnes looked at Quinn expectantly.
“Of course I do. I’m eager to meet him,” responded Quinn.
“Well, he’s here, and he’s actually the reason for the party. Can I
bring him over and introduce him to you and Fiona?”
Quinn nodded, and Agnes quickly motioned to a young man in
his early thirties, who had been standing nearby, to join them. Agnes
moved further down the sofa, causing Dermot’s mother, Sophie, to
move again too, which she did, but with quite a lot of grumbling
under her breath. Agnes seated the young man awkwardly between
herself and Quinn. Dermot’s mother was making rather audible
sighing noises, and Fiona, who had filled her plate again, continued
to stuff food into her mouth.
“Quinn, I’d like you to meet Cormac O’Neill. As I mentioned at
your house, Cormac lives in Skibbereen.” Agnes continued, excitedly.
“Cormac is staying for the weekend. We’re looking forward to getting
to know each other better.” Agnes paused and looked at Cormac
before continuing. “Cormac, I’d like you to meet my good friends,
Quinn and Fiona.”
 Cormac looked at Quinn and then, without smiling, said, “Good
to meet you,” before looking away and scanning the room with his
eyes as though looking for someone.
Quinn couldn’t help feeling unimpressed with this man, but she
wanted to avoid offending Agnes. “It’s good to meet you, Cormac.
Agnes tells me you’re in real estate.”
“That’s right.” Cormac hadn’t even looked in Quinn’s direction. He
continued scanning the room, then promptly got up and walked
away. Agnes gave an embarrassed laugh before getting up and
hurrying after Cormac.
Quinn and Fiona exchanged glances. Even Dermot’s mother, who
had overheard the conversation, exclaimed, “Well, I never saw such
rudeness in my life!”
Fiona popped another shrimp into her mouth before saying,
“What a jerk. I hope Agnes doesn’t get taken to the cleaners by that
man.”
Quinn was more than a little concerned, but she didn’t feel she
could say anything to Agnes, at least not tonight.
Just then, Margaret and Daniel walked into the living room, with
Colin following behind. Quinn always became a little rattled when
she saw Colin. Why was she so taken with that man that she could
barely think straight when she was near him?
Then Fiona leaned in, still thinking about Cormac. “What do you
make of Agnes’s boyfriend, Quinn?”
Quinn pulled her eyes away from Colin. “It worries me, of course.
Agnes has come so far in so many ways from where she was when
she sought me out for therapy. I want to be happy for her, but I
certainly see plenty of red flags.”
“Me too,” said Fiona, and then, “Have you tried any of these little
meatballs? They’re heavenly.”
“Fiona, if you don’t stop eating all that rich food, you’ll have a
stomachache all night.” Then Quinn realized Colin was staring at her
from across the room, and she stared right back.
The next morning, Quinn was up early. She had already fed the
pigs and the chickens and given Pike and Maggie their food. Now
she sat at the kitchen table with the windows open, enjoying the
morning air. Soft clouds drifted by as she looked out over the green
fields. She could hear the cawing of crows in nearby trees. It was
always a marvel to Quinn, the way Ireland had its own sounds and
smells. She noticed the light was even different, more diffused than
the bright sunshine she was used to in Chicago.
Fiona shuffled in, still in her robe and slippers. She sat down and
burped silently before pouring herself a cup of tea. “Why did you let
me eat all that rich food last night, Quinn? I think I had too much
wine, too. I was up half the night.”
Quinn stifled an ‘I told you so,’ instead of saying, “Can I make
you some toast or something to settle your stomach?”
“Oh, that’s okay, Quinnie. I think I’ll just stick with tea for now.”
A little peck on the door told them Margaret had arrived for one
of their morning chats, as Quinn was sure she would. Like any good,
self-respecting Irish woman, she had a great curiosity regarding
what went on in other people’s lives. Margaret gave a ‘Hi ya,’ and set
a bag of the morning’s leftovers on the table. She then pushed and
patted at her hair for a moment, which changed it not at all, before
pulling out a chair and sitting down with a sigh.
“Now, so, what would ye be havin’ this beautiful morning, Fiona?
I’ve got half a pear and almond cake, as well as some shortbread
squares.” Margaret winked at Quinn before continuing, “Or would ye
rather have a strawberry scone dripping with clotted cream?”
Fiona glared at Margaret and then burped again under her
breath. “I know what you’re doing.”
Margaret only chuckled good-naturedly and then looked at
Quinn. “What’s yer thoughts on that Skibbereen fella takin’ up
residence with Agnes? I have a feeling he’s a bad lot myself. Did you
notice how he ignored everyone? I’m that worried she’s being led up
the garden path by one of those virtual spam types, so. What’s your
take on him, Quinn?”
Quinn ignored the fact that Margaret seemed to have the idea
that ‘virtual spam types’ were, somehow, synonymous with online
dating. Now, it would be hard to think of Cormac as anything but
‘One of those virtual spam types’, though.
 “I’m a little worried about that situation too, Margaret, but I’m
not confident that I wouldn’t just make Agnes mad if I said anything
right now. Let’s give it some time and see where it leads.”
 CHAPTER 5

G racie Fitzgerald sat in Quinn’s office, gently twirling her hair.

She had what, to Quinn, appeared to be an enormous amount
of gum in her mouth. She also seemed much less apprehensive
today than she had been at her first visit.
Before Quinn could speak, Gracie smiled and asked, “How has
your week been going, Dr. Langston?”
Quinn had to laugh. “Hey, who’s the therapist here? I’m
supposed to ask you that.” She paused, “But to answer your
question, my week has gone pretty well.”
“Mines gone pretty well, too.” Gracie chewed her gum
thoughtfully. “I think talking to you probably helped. I never talk
about any of that stuff with my friends or to my gran even. I wonder
why talking about it makes you feel better?”
“Well, I think that talking about traumas we’ve experienced helps
us process them. They can sort of get stuck in our brains. Sharing
unpleasant experiences helps to unstick them and lighten the load
some. Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah, I think it does. I told you all my traumas last time,
though, so what will we talk about this time?” Gracie looked at
Quinn expectantly and popped her gum.
“Well, Gracie, experiences like that can leave emotional scars, like
low self-worth, or maybe not being able to trust other people, or
feeling sad or angry too much of the time. Does any of that ring true
for you?”
 The young girl continued to chew her gum thoughtfully. “I guess
I have all of that.” Gracie frowned and twirled her hair. “Can you help
me with that, Dr. Langston?” Gracie stopped chewing as she waited
for Quinn to answer.
“I think I can help you with that, Gracie.” Quinn smiled, knowing
that she could indeed help this girl, and was more than happy to do
so. “There’s only one thing that I would ask of you.”
Gracie stopped twirling her hair. “What’s that?”
“Would you call me Quinn?”
Quinn left the clinic feeling that her session with Gracie had gone
well. Again, she marveled at how much affection she felt for this
young girl, whom she hardly knew. As a therapist, she usually felt
more of a professional duty towards her patients rather than
affection. For a moment, she revisited her decision, years ago, not to
have children. Little late for that now, dearie, she told herself, and,
anyway, deep down she felt she had made the right decision. Having
children isn’t for everyone. She had her animals, and they certainly
gave her an enormous amount of comfort.
Quinn crossed the street and headed down the block towards the
new café named Lizzie’s that had opened last week. She walked in
and spotted Fiona seated at a table near the window. The place had
a cozy feel. It was fairly small, with seven or eight tables and large
windows that fronted the street. The tables were white, as were the
chairs, and there was a little bakery section to one side. A friendly
woman of about thirty-five greeted her as she entered. Quinn sat
down opposite Fiona, who was busy studying the menu. “Anything
interesting in there?” Quinn asked.
“Plenty,” replied Fiona. “I’m in a quandary about what to get. I
saw a Chicken Caesar salad go by that looked fabulous, and the
seafood chowder sounds delicious. They also serve breakfast all day,
so you can see my dilemma.” No one took food more seriously than
Fiona.
Quinn laughed, “I do see. I think I’ll have the Chicken Caesar,
though.” The young woman saw that they were ready to order and
headed toward their table.
 “Hello, and welcome to our little café. I’m Liz, and my husband,
there in the back doing the cooking, is Gary. What can I get ye?”
Quinn and Fiona both ordered.
After finishing their food, Quinn and Fiona agreed this café was a
delightful addition to the town, only feeling just a bit disloyal to Daily
Kneads.
As they left the café, Quinn asked, “Is there anything else you
want to do while we’re in town, Fee?” Quinn had no sooner gotten
the words out when she saw a somewhat familiar face walking
towards them. “Hello, Cormac, do you remember me? We met at
Agnes’s party.”
Cormac seemed somewhat preoccupied. He looked around
anxiously before answering. “Yes, yes, I remember you. You’re the
lady Agnes was so eager for me to meet. Your name is Quinn and
your friend here is Fiona, is that not right?”
Something in his delivery made Quinn feel annoyed. It was like
he was reciting information that he really had no interest in learning.
“Yes, that’s right, but don’t let us keep you.” With that, Quinn
took Fiona’s arm and began walking away. Once they were well
away from Cormac, Quinn turned to Fiona. “God, he’s obnoxious,
don’t you think? Maybe Margaret was right about him. Perhaps he is
virtual spam.”
The next morning, Quinn woke up with a headache. Probably
sinuses, she thought. She needed to remember to wear a mask
when she cleaned the chicken coop. Then she rolled over and looked
at the clock. It was nearly seven, so she might as well get up and
feed the animals. As she got out of bed, Quinn heard her cell phone
ringing from its charger in her bathroom. She moved a little more
quickly as she headed for it.
Quinn didn’t have her reading glasses, so she answered without
checking to see who was calling. “Hello,” she said in a rather sleepy
voice.
“Dr. Langston, … Quinn, this is Agnes,” The voice on the other
end of the phone sounded terrified. “Quinn, Cormac is dead! I just
woke up and looked over at him to say good morning, and he was
lying there, still, white and cold, with his eyes open, staring at the
ceiling. I don’t know what to do. Please help me, Quinn; what do I
do?”
Quinn tried to take in the information, still feeling a little groggy
from the night’s sleep. “Agnes, Agnes, are you sure he’s dead?”
“Of course, I’m certain! I’ve seen death before, Quinn.” Agnes
almost whispered the last few words, still sounding terrified.
“Okay, okay, Agnes. Try to calm down and take some deep
breaths. Do you remember the deep breathing exercises I taught
you when you were my patient?” Quinn could hear Agnes taking
deep breaths and letting them out slowly, the way she had taught
her. “Good, that’s it. Keep doing that. Have you called the Garda
yet?”
“No, I’ve only called you. You were the only person I could think
of to call. Can you please help me, Quinn? I don’t know what to do?”
Quinn could hear Agnes reverting to her old self. The Agnes she had
met all those months ago.
“Of course, I’ll help you, Agnes. I’m going to hang up now and
call the officers; I’ll ask them to hurry. As soon as I do that, I’ll call
you back and stay on the line with you until they arrive. I’ll also get
dressed and be at your house as soon as I can. Just try to stay calm,
Agnes, okay?” Quinn heard a click at the other end of the line. She
hurriedly called the Garda Station. Dermot answered on the first
ring. She relayed the information Agnes had given her and dressed.
Soon she was in the car, headed towards Agnes’s house. She tried
calling Agnes again but got no answer.
 CHAPTER 6

Q uinn pulled into Agnes’s driveway and sped towards the house.
She saw two Garda vehicles parked near the door and was
grateful they had already arrived. When she reached the front door,
Dermot Brennan blocked her entry. “You can’t come in here, missus.
This is a crime scene.” Dermot put his hands on his hips, bobbing up
and down as he spoke and giving Quinn a stern look.
“I’m here as her therapist, Dermot. Agnes needs me right now.
Let me by.” Quinn gave Dermot an even sterner look.
Dermot sighed and dropped his shoulders. “Oh, okay, but if I get
into trouble, it’s your fault.”
Quinn fairly bolted up the stairs and into Agnes’s bedroom. Agnes
sat in a chair on the other side of the room near her fireplace.
Several people were attending to Cormac as he lay motionless on
the bed. Quinn pulled a chair over and sat down facing Agnes.
Agnes hardly registered her presence. “Agnes, I’m here; it’s Quinn.
Can you look at me?” Quinn took hold of both of Agnes’ hands.
“Agnes, please look at me.” Agnes looked up and blinked, then rolled
her eyes as she made them bigger. This was the coping strategy of
the old, troubled Agnes.
“I’m fine, Dr. Langston, just fine. Don’t worry about me. I hardly
knew that fella. What do I care if he’s dead?” Agnes blinked and
looked away.
Quinn swore silently. Agnes had pulled herself out of a near-
constant depression from her horrible childhood, and now this.
“Agnes, tell me what happened. Can you at least look at me?”
Nothing. Quinn continued to hold Agnes’s hands, feeling helpless.
Finally, she caught the eye of one of the officers. “Is it okay if I take
her to my house?”
“And what, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” A female officer
who seemed in charge had walked over to where Quinn and Agnes
sat.
“I’m Dr. Langston, Agnes’s therapist. I wondered if I could take
her to my home for now. I think I need to get her out of here. She’s
in shock.”
“Oh, I know who you are, ‘Prominent psychologist from the
States’ with her name in the paper.” The officer looked at Quinn with
a sneer on her face. “Is that what you’re thinking? Just up and take
her wherever you like. Well, I think she’s a murder suspect who we
haven’t questioned yet. So why, exactly, should I be letting her take
off with the likes of ye?”
Quinn had nothing but contempt for bullies. Bullies, as parents,
had caused her childhood trauma, and the anger from that kicked in.
She slowly rose from her chair and stepped closer to the officer.
“Well then, if this good woman has a psychotic break, I guess we
will know whom to blame. As you said, I’ve had my name in the
paper; The Irish Times knows who I am. When I tell them how a
surly officer was so negligent and uncaring about a woman in acute
distress, I’m sure they’ll be happy to listen. And maybe then you’ll
get your name in the paper!” Quinn stood face-to-face with the
officer.
The woman laughed uneasily. “Oh, … I’m sure you’ve
misunderstood me. I was only going to ask for your address, so, so
we would know how to reach this, eh… this good woman, as you
say.”
“Dermot knows where I live.” With that, Quinn took Agnes by the
elbow and fairly lifted her from the chair. “Come on, Agnes, I’m
getting you out of here,” Quinn whispered the words into Agnes’s ear
and headed towards the door.
Once home, Quinn helped Agnes out of the car and got her
settled by the fire in the living room. Agnes hadn’t spoken at all on
the drive or since being in the house, and Quinn was quite
concerned about her. She decided not to question her anymore. She
would instead just sit with her quietly for a while. Fiona sat on the
sofa, also looking worried.
Finally, Agnes spoke. “Do you see, Dr. Langston? I wasn’t meant
to be happy. I’ve done bad things, and I’m being punished. I
deserve to be punished.”
“That’s not true, Agnes. You haven’t done bad things. You don’t
deserve to be punished. What happened to your sister all those
years ago wasn’t your fault. Agnes, look at me. Don’t let this derail
all the progress you’ve made. I’ll help you figure this out. It’s going
to be okay, Agnes, trust me.” Quinn looked at Fiona. Fiona, reading
her thoughts, nodded in agreement. They would make sure the
Garda sorted this out, or they would do it themselves.
The next morning, Agnes seemed a bit more herself. Quinn set
about fixing her some eggs and toast. As they both sat eating their
breakfast, Quinn tried to question Agnes again.
“Agnes, I need to talk to you about Cormac.” Quinn paused for a
moment, then continued. “What do you think happened to him? Do
you have any idea? Did he have any medical conditions that you
know of?”
Agnes continued eating for a few moments and then sat her fork
down. “Quinn, I honestly do not know what to think. We had gone
out to dinner the night before, and he seemed fine. Maybe he drank
a little too much, but I did too. He wasn’t sick when we went to bed,
but when I woke up, he was just lying there, staring at the ceiling.
His eyes were open, and… he reminded me of my… my sister. Her
eyes were open, too, when I found her in the stream.” Agnes again
began to stare and blink in the odd way she had when Quinn had
first begun treating her.
“Agnes, stay with me. It’s going to be okay. We’ll get this figured
out.” Quinn was determined to do just that.
 CHAPTER 7

T he next day, Quinn went to the Garda station and sought

Dermot out. She found him at his desk, having a cup of tea.
“Hello, Dermot. Would it be possible to have a quick word with you?
It’s about Agnes Meek.”
Dermot seemed surprised to see her. “Well, missus, I’ll be as
much help as I can. You know I can only tell you so much since
there’s an ongoing investigation and all, so.” Dermot sniffed, put his
hands on the desk, and sat up straighter.
“Do they know yet what caused Cormac’s death? Did he have
some kind of medical condition?” Quinn looked at Dermot
expectantly.
Dermot tapped his fingers on his desk for a moment, then
cleared his throat before looking up at Quinn and speaking in a low
voice. “Look, you didn’t hear this from me, but the coroner thinks
that fella died from anaphylactic shock. In other words, he was very
allergic to something, and that something killed him.”
“Do they have any idea what?” From Quinn.
“They haven’t said, and I’ve told you more than I should,
anyway. But be ready because several officers from Cork will come
around to your farm this afternoon. They want to question your
houseguest.” With that, Dermot sniffed and crossed his arms,
refusing to say any more.
Quinn and Fiona waited nervously for the Garda from Cork to
arrive. Quinn worried that being questioned by strangers would only
make Agnes’s condition worse. She had insisted that Agnes rest for a
while before they arrived. Quinn kept a Murphy bed in her office for
the occasional houseguests. Now, she knocked softly on the door in
case Agnes had fallen asleep. There was no answer. Quinn knocked
again, and when there was still no answer, she opened the door.
“Good God,” exclaimed Quinn. The large window in the room stood
open, and there was no sign of Agnes. “Fiona, Agnes is gone,”
shouted Quinn. “We have to find her!”
The two officers sat on the sofa, each balancing their cups of tea.
Both were looking sternly in Quinn’s direction. One spoke. “Where
exactly is Agnes Meek, Dr. Langston? We thought she was here with
you in this house.” Quinn had sent Fiona out to look for Agnes,
hoping she could find her before the officers arrived. Now she knew
she had no choice but to come clean.
“Look, Agnes is missing. When I went in to wake her from a nap,
she had left through the window of my study. My friend is out
looking for her now. You have to understand that Agnes has lived
through plenty of trauma, and the death of this man has been very
difficult for her to deal with.”
The female officer gave Quinn a stern look. “You should have told
us that in the first place! You’ve been wasting our time. We could
have been out looking for her if you had divulged that information
instead of giving us tea.” As both officers rose to leave, the front
door opened. Fiona was fairly dragging Agnes into the living room of
the cottage.
Agnes took one look at the officers and, pulling away from Fiona,
headed back towards the door. Fiona grabbed hold of her again, and
this time the Garda were there to help. Agnes sobbed hysterically. “I
didn’t kill him. I swear I didn’t. I didn’t kill my sister, either. I don’t
know what’s wrong with me. I don’t understand why people I care
about die. I really don’t.” Agnes sank to the floor in despair. One
officer, a kind-looking man of about sixty, pulled Agnes up from the
floor and put his arm around her.
“Now, now, missus, we have said nothing about you killing
anybody. And I know about the tragedy of your sister. You were just
a wee girl yourself when that happened. No one is thinking you had
anything to do with that. Come over here and sit down. We have
some news to tell ye.” The officer led Agnes to the sofa and seated
her between himself and the other officer. Fiona brought her a cup
of tea.
When Agnes seemed a little calmer, the officer spoke. “Now,
Agnes, you may not remember me, but I was the lead investigator
at the death of your sister all those years ago. You know, it’s a
wonder they didn’t charge your parents for her death. They were so
negligent. You certainly have nothing to feel guilty of; you’re lucky
that you made it out of that house alive.” The officer took a sip of
tea and gave Agnes a reassuring smile. “Now, regarding Cormac
O’Neill, it appears he had a severe bee allergy. Apparently, one flew
in through the open window while he was sleeping, and he died
from its sting. He may not have even woken up, as his alcohol level
was quite high. Anyway, you aren’t being charged with anything.
You’re free to go home and resume your life.”
Quinn and Fiona exchanged relieved glances. “Do you hear that,
Agnes?” asked Quinn. “They know it’s not your fault. Everything’s
going to be okay now.”
Agnes sat on the sofa with a confused look on her face. She
turned first to Quinn and then back to the officer who had just
spoken. “You mean I’m not going to prison? You believe I did
nothing to Cormac?”
The officer, once again, put his arm around Agnes. “Yes, you can
go home now, Agnes.”
Agnes stared down at her hands. “Home, yes. I guess that’s
where I should go. It will just be so strange to think of Cormac not
being there, knowing he’s never coming back. I loved him; I really
did. I wanted to marry him and spend the rest of our lives together.
He said he wanted that too, and now he’s gone, and I’ll never have
that.” Agnes put her head in her hands and sobbed.
Quinn wondered, not for the first time, why some people seemed
never to be allowed any happiness in this life.
Quinn and Fiona exchanged sad glances. The officers left, and
Fiona closed the door behind them.
 Life once again returned to normal. Agnes was living in her own
house again and seeing Quinn twice a week at the clinic. Odd,
though, that Quinn kept having the nagging feeling that something
was still amiss. She shared those feelings with her friends during one
of their morning chats.
As she, Fiona, Hattie, and Margaret all sat companionably around
the large kitchen table with various animals at their feet and Pike
watching from his perch atop the refrigerator, Quinn conveyed her
thoughts.
“You know, I’m still bothered about Cormac O’Neill’s death. We
know so little about him, only what Agnes told us, and something
just seems off. Do any of you feel that way, too?”
Margaret was the first to speak. “Well, so, I don’t like to speak ill
of the dead, but I had a bad feeling about that lad. He seemed shifty
and always to be lookin’ back over his shoulder like he was guilty of
something. I don’t know; maybe I’m just being silly. I only met the
man once at Agnes’s party.”
Hattie was the next to speak. “No, I’m not convinced that’s silly. I
had the same reaction to him, and I spent years investigating people
and judging their characters. I thought he was a bad lot.”
“Since we’re being honest,” said Fiona, “I’ll throw my two cents in
and say I didn’t like him either. I’m sure he was just with Agnes
because she has money. I mean, he was so much younger and easy
on the eyes.”
“But what does any of that mean?” Quinn looked perplexed. “Are
we saying we think there was some kind of foul play?”
“I think the Garda were awfully quick to close that case,” said
Hattie. “I’m not saying I think Agnes is guilty of anything, but there
is always the possibility that someone sneaked into her house,
someone who knew that Cormac O’Neill was allergic to bees.” Hattie
paused for a moment and then added, “We could always do a little
investigating on our own. Quinn, do you want to pay Rose a visit at
her gallery and then have a look around town to see what we can
find out? Anyone else care to do a little snooping in Skibbereen?”
Quinn, Fiona, and Margaret all agreed that was precisely what
they wanted to do.
 CHAPTER 8

T he next afternoon, the four women were happily ensconced

at the back of Rose’s gallery, sitting on her fine, overstuffed
linen chairs, being served a delicious traditional Irish apple cake
baked by Rose herself.
Rose was Quinn’s grandmother, though Quinn had only found
that out a short time ago. Now she took every opportunity she could
to get to know her grandmother better. Rose was in her eighties, but
still ran her art gallery and painted regularly. She was a thin woman
with snow-white hair cut in a fashionable bob. Her makeup was
always impeccable, as were her clothes. In all ways, she looked and
seemed much younger than her actual age.
Rose smiled warmly at the group. Now, ladies, what brings you
to my corner of the world on this fine, sunny day? The women
quickly filled Rose in as to the details of Cormac O’Neill’s death.
“I don’t suppose you knew him?” asked Quinn.
Rose was quiet for a moment. “I know the whole O’Neill family,
but not very well. They aren’t the kind of people you would want to
spend much time with. I saw Cormac’s obituary, but didn’t realize it
had anything to do with someone you knew.”
“What exactly do you know about Cormac and his family, Rose?”
Hattie had her iPad out and was in full detective mode.
“Well, let’s see,” As she spoke, Rose rubbed the blue tanzanite
stone she wore around her neck. Her lovely silver earrings swung
slightly as she turned her head to look at Hattie. “I’m not sure what
I know will be all that helpful, Hattie, but I’ll tell you all I can.”
“Cormac’s father was an estate agent for some years; then he
became embroiled in a scandal over a housing development.
Apparently, he was siphoning off funds. He lost his real estate
license and opened a much smaller consulting company of some
kind. Cormac worked for him, I think. Cormac’s mother isn’t a very
pleasant woman, either. She has to have the best of everything, but,
like her husband, she’s not opposed to cutting corners to get it. Both
her sons seemed cut from the same cloth. Cormac has a brother
named Sean, who is a year or two older.” Rose stopped talking to sip
her tea. “I feel sorry for your friend. Cormac would not have had the
best intentions, I’m certain. Terrible that he died in her home.” Rose
paused again. “You know, I used to see him around town with a
pretty young girl. Her name’s Rois McGowan, I think. You might talk
to her. She works in the dress shop called Bridget’s, on High St.”
After their visit with Rose, the four women set out for the dress
shop. Once there, they pretended to shop while keeping a close eye
on the young woman behind the counter, who was talking on her
phone and thoroughly ignoring them. Hattie finally approached the
counter with a woolen scarf. She might as well have been invisible,
as the girl paid her no attention to her. After a few moments of this,
Hattie brought her hand down hard on the counter, causing her rings
to clang loudly on the glass. Bringing herself up to her full height
and in a stern voice, she then asked, “What do I have to do to get
some service in this sorry excuse of a retail establishment?”
The girl seemed startled and then indignant. “You realize you
scared me half to death just now? I almost dropped my phone!” She
then scowled at Hattie.
Hattie put both hands on the counter and leaned towards the
girl. “Listen here, you little gobshite. You’re being paid to help the
customers, not talk on your feckin’ phone.” Hattie had replaced her
English accent with a belligerent, Irish one.
The girl seemed to want to give a retort. Then she looked Hattie
up and down again and thought better of it. “You’ve got my
attention now, so what is it yer wantin’?”
 Hattie put the scarf on the counter and stepped back a little.
“What I’m wanting to know is if you are Rois McGowan?”
The girl looked nervous. “I am Rois McGowen, but who in the
bloody hell are you, and why are you askin’?”
“A private party has hired me to do some investigating into the
death of Cormac O’Neill,” lied Hattie.
Rois McGowen now appeared visibly frightened. “Look, I had
nothing to do with any of that shite Cormac was mixed up in.”
“And what, exactly, was he mixed up in then?” Hattie had a
menacing tone to her voice.
“I… I don’t know. I only mean if he was mixed up in anything.”
Rois had stepped back from the counter now and looked as though
she was trying to decide whether to run. Margaret took a few steps
and placed her sturdy frame in front of the door.
Suddenly, Hattie’s demeanor changed completely. “Look, I would
rather not see you get hauled in by the Garda. I’m trying to clear
this all up so that doesn’t happen. It’s a frightful experience to be
questioned by those officers from Cork. Those lads mean business.
You don’t want to go through that, do you, love? Best answer my
questions, so I can help you avoid all that.”
Rois looked like she might cry. Hattie reached over and patted
her hand. “Now, now, Pet, best you start talking.”
Rois took a deep breath and eyed Hattie one more time. “Alright,
… Cormac and me had been seeing each other for about a year.
Then, a few months ago, I found out he’s on a bunch of dating sites,
and he’s scamming women. Women as old as fifty! Disgusting! I let
him know I wasn’t happy about that, but he said they didn’t mean
anything to him. Just a little extra cash now and then, he said, from
lonely women who wanted to believe he actually cared about them.
Then, about a month ago, he tells me he’s found this rich lady in
Ballyfrannen who wants him to come and live with her. He says she’s
crazy about him, and he shows me an expensive watch and a ring
she bought him. That’s only the beginning, he says.” Rois stopped
speaking and rubbed her forehead as though wondering how much
more she should say.
 “Come on, Love, out with the rest,” Hattie said in an
encouraging, motherly voice. “It’s the Garda or me.”
Rois had a look of desperation on her face. “Can you really
protect me from them? I honestly wasn’t involved in any of that.”
“If you weren’t involved, I’ll do all I can to help you,” Hattie said
sincerely.
“Okay then, I’ll tell you what I know.” The girl looked up at Hattie
one more time and then spoke. “Cormac intended to marry that
woman and then take her money and her house. He said she was
pretty fragile mentally, and he was sure he could push her over the
edge. Then he could get guardianship of her and have full control of
all her assets.” Rois McGowen had the decency to look ashamed. “I
know. I should have told someone what he was doing. I was a little
afraid too if you want the truth. Cormac had a terrible temper. You
didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.”
 CHAPTER 9

A gnes stared out the window of Quinn’s office. She sat slumped
in her chair, looking defeated and miserable. Her experience
with Cormac had taken its toll. Quinn had told her, as gently as she
could, how Cormac had taken advantage of other women he met on
dating sites and of his plans for her. She knew it was better that she
heard it from her in therapy. Quinn would do her best to help Agnes
process these awful truths. Now, Agnes not only grieved Cormac’s
death but also felt that the life she had dreamed of with him had
never been real. She reverted to her old coping skills, putting on
weight and wearing too much make–up and perfume. She was more
the woman she had been when Quinn had first begun treating her.
Her strange habit of enlarging her eyes, blinking, and staring off into
space, was also back. Quinn was more than a little concerned.
“How has your week been, Agnes? Have you got out any?” Quinn
waited for a response. When there was none, she continued, “You
know there’s a jazz festival in Ballydehob this weekend. Would you
like to go with Fiona and me?”
“Will there be food?” Agnes smiled at Quinn to let her know she
was joking.
This response heartened Quinn. “Sure, there will be lots of food.
I intend to pig out myself. Please go with us, Agnes. The weather is
supposed to be great, and Ballydehob is such a wonderful little
village. It’ll be fun.”
 “I’ll think about it, Dr. Langston.” Agnes seemed more
comfortable calling Quinn Dr. Langston when they were in her office.
The rest of the session passed with Quinn having varying
degrees of success at drawing the real Agnes out.
Quinn’s next patient was Gracie Fitzgerald. Quinn always looked
forward to her visits. She would spend the first part of their session
teaching Gracie things like what true self-esteem looked like and
how to know when to have empathy, and when to realize you were
being used. She wanted to educate the young girl on people’s
actions aligning with their words. If they didn’t, you needed to
believe their actions. This was something she had struggled with in
the past and still struggled with. Anyone who used people pleasing
as a coping mechanism struggled with these issues. She hoped that
learning these lessons early would help Gracie grow boundaries that
would save her anguish in the future.
Quinn had just finished one of her ‘long-winded lectures,’ as
Gracie called them. Now they sat looking at each other. Gracie
twirled in her chair as she also twirled her hair. She was vigorously
chewing the ever-present wad of gum. Quinn had to laugh. “Do you
get anything out of what I’m saying, or am I just talking to myself?”
Quinn smiled at Gracie as she waited for a response.
“Of course, I get what you’re saying. Just yesterday, Tory was
trying to get me to come over to her house when she knew I needed
to study for a test. She pretended like she wanted to help me study,
but she actually wanted me to run around town with her. There’s a
new boy at our school that she likes. His mam owns the new bakery
that just opened. Tory is forever finding an excuse to go in there,
even though she never buys anything.” Gracie transferred her gum
to the other side of her mouth and then continued. “Anyway, I knew
what she was up to, and I told her no because her actions, for
certain, didn’t match up with her words.” Gracie stopped twirling her
chair and looked at Quinn with an expectant expression.
Quinn laughed again. “Okay, I will give you massive credit for the
bright, intuitive girl you are.”
Gracie seemed satisfied and resumed spinning in her chair. Then
her expression changed. “I think there is something I ought to tell
you. I would only be telling you because I think it’s something you
should know, not to get anyone in trouble. I wouldn’t want to be
doing that.” Gracie looked at Quinn to gauge her reaction. “It’s about
someone I saw here at the clinic when I was in the waiting room. I
saw them come out of your office.”
“If there is something you think you should tell me, then I hope
you will. Why do you think it would get them into trouble?” Quinn
waited for Gracie to speak.
Gracie looked worried. “Because I saw them stealing, shoplifting,
actually.”
Quinn was a little jolted by this information but tried to keep her
demeanor pleasant. “I think it would probably be a good idea if you
told me who you saw and what they stole.” Quinn smiled at Gracie.
“You know me well enough to understand I have no interest in
getting anyone into trouble.”
Gracie seemed to relax. “Well, so…, I was in the new bakery with
Tory the other day. You know, the one I was just telling you about.
And well, this well-dressed lady was in there, and did she ever have
on a lot of perfume! And you won’t believe it,” Gracie again paused,
looked at Quinn, and switched her gum to her other cheek. “As I
was saying, you won’t believe what this lady was doing. She was
taking bread and other things off the shelves and putting them into
her bag. When Jake’s… that’s the boy Tory likes, … when Jake’s
mother wasn’t looking. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing.”
Gracie sighed and looked at Quinn, as though relieved to be done
with her story.
Quinn sat back in her chair, knowing, of course, who Gracie had
seen shoplifting in the bakery. “Telling me was the right thing to do,
Gracie, and I’m proud of you for doing that. I’ll handle this, and no
one will ever find out you told me, and I’ll reimburse Jake’s mother
for what was stolen. As you realize, this woman is a patient of mine.
Don’t worry anymore about it, Gracie. Leave the rest to me.”
As Quinn drove home, she was more than worried about what
Gracie had seen. Agnes had never mentioned shoplifting in the past.
Was this something new or an old behavior that had resurfaced? She
wished she could discuss this new information with Fiona and Hattie,
but since it had come from Gracie, she would not.
 CHAPTER 10

Q uinn sat deep in thought in front of the fire. A glass of wine

sat on the table next to her. Fiona seated herself opposite her,
reading a book while enjoying her own glass of wine. Quinn loved
these evenings, but tonight she couldn’t shake off what Gracie had
told her about Agnes.
Finally, Fiona asked, “Quinn, why so perturbed? Is there
something you’re not telling me?”
“There is, Fiona, but I probably shouldn’t talk about it. It came
from a patient; suffice to say it’s about Agnes, and it’s troubling.”
The next day, Quinn visited Agnes. As she pulled into Agnes’s
driveway, a wave of anxiety hit her. She didn’t want to confront
Agnes about the shoplifting, but she felt she had to. What if she got
arrested? That would only cause her more emotional damage. With
a sigh, Quinn got out of the car and headed towards Agnes’s front
door. Agnes answered as soon as the doorbell rang.
“Quinn! What in the world are you doing here? I was just ready
to go out.” Agnes was standing in her bathrobe, obviously not
showered or ready for the day.
Quinn was caught a little off guard. “I, uh, was just taking a ride
and stopped by to see if you were free for lunch.”
Agnes thought for a moment. “I guess I could do that, or we
could eat here. I found a wonderful new bakery in town, and I’ve
got plenty to make us a nice lunch here at the house.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
“Butcha,” 326
Butchers, 299
Buttermilk, 171
Buy a horse, 206
grapes for wine-making, 229
Buying horses, 58

C⸺, Major, 3
Cah (Kah), 174
Calico printers, 200
rinsers, 193
Call to the bath, 72
Camel, bite of the, 243
fight, 242
tics, 392
Camels, mode of procuring fighting, 242
Campanile, the, Julfa, 157
Camp out, 348
Captain Burke, 344
Hansard, 343
S⸺, 179
T⸺, R.E., 278
Carapet, Mr., 357
Caravanserai Gulshan, 200
Mokhlis, 182
Carboys, 236
Card-playing, 96
Carpets, Persian, 149;
1883, 150
 all wool, 151
Bath, 152
colours of, 150
fast colours, 149
faults in, 150
“Gelīm,” 152
increase in price of, 153
“Jejīm,” 152
Meshed, 149
mode of laying, 152
“Nammad,” 152
of great value, 151
of Mūrghāb, 151
old, 149
patterns of, 150
quality of, 150
value, 151
why they last, 150
Carvings, Abadeh, 332
Cashmere shawls, 274
Caspian steamer, 211
Cathedral of Julfa, 100
Cats, long-haired, 305
ordinary, 305
Causeways, 198
Cavalry, irregular, 266
Cells of students, 197
Cemetery, Armenian, 162
Chaff beds, 20, 25
Chah Ali Bunder, 275
Chambers, Captain, 127, 176
Character of Armenians, 316
Persians, 314
Char Bagh, 135, 196
Chardūr, 325
Chargāt, the, 322
Charlesiah, 132
Charms, 291
Cheap freehold, a, 206
Cheapness of ice, 240
Cheese, tale of the phantom, 172
Chelinjeh Khan, 223
Chess, 97
Chibouque, 32
Children, dress of, 325
Cholar wine, 229
grape, 232
Cholera, 224
Chuppering, rules of, 259
Chupper khana, interior, 25
a, 386
whip, 22
Church Missionary Establishment, 165
Church Missionary Schools, 144, 163
Church Missionary Society, educational work of, 144
Church of England, 166
Jesuits, 143
Civil suits, 189
Claim to sanctity of Armenians, 73
Classical Persian, 278
Clay biscuits, 334
Cleanliness of Persians, 316
Clemency, royal, 317
Climate, variable, 339
Clothes of Persians, 318
Cocculus indicus, 129
Coffee à la Turca, 6
Coinage, new, 371
Collars, difficulty of washing, 153
College at Ispahan, 196
Teheran, 338
Collins, Sergeant, 293
place of murder of, 351
Colonel Prideaux, 346
Colt, anecdote of a, 103
grey, 239
Comfort of travelling, 55
Common flowers, 172
Complexion of women, 324
Compliments, Persian, 28
Concubines, 326
Confiscation, 155
Constantinople, 5
Conversation with king’s son, 165
Cook, my, tries to take priest’s orders, 139
Cooks, 297
Cook-shops, 298
Coral reef, 342
Cossack regiments, 370
Cost of living, 186
Costume, Persian, 317
of women, 322
Court costume, 50
Courtiers, 199
Cream, mode of obtaining, 171
Credit, 188
Crickets, mole, 216
Crops, 173
Croquet lawn, 167
Crucifixions, 204
Cruelty to horses, 329
to a nun, 140
to Yari, 78
Cruelties to Mirza Naim, 272
Crying off, 188
Cucumber jam, 92
Cuisine, Persian, 296
Curdled milk, 171
Curio buying, 332
Curious accident, 128
ring, 376
Cursing Baab, 155
Curtain in Armenian church, 140
Custom-house, 267
Custom of Shiraz, 379
the Kūrūk, 370
Cut straw, 174
Cyrus, tomb of, 355

D⸺, Mr., 51
Damage to telegraph line, 113
Damascening, 189
Dar, the, 201, 282
Darius, treasure of, 78
Daroga, the, 371
Day in Ispahan, 200
Day of Judgment, picture of the, 161
Debauchee, a, 244
Decorated pond, 50
Decorations, church interior, 160
Dehbeed, 356
tax-man at, 133
Delleh, 69
Demarvend, 373
Dervish and puppets, tale of, 285
at tomb of Hafiz, 278
Dervishes, 42
at Tazzia, 281
garden, 46
hats, 44
horn, 46
 mode of begging, 44
vices, 46
vows, 43
Desht-i-arjeen, 350
Diana, temple of, reputed, 107
Dig for treasure, we, 79
Dilgoosha, 220, 274
Dinner on road, 107
sent away, 245
with a Persian prince, 114
Discipline, 71
Disguise of robbers, 264
Dispensary, my, 200
over the prison, 182
Doctors, 33
Doctors, studies of, 338
Dog-cart, my, 248
Dog, loss of, 129
Dogs, varieties of, 306
Doherty, Mr., 401
Dome, tiled, 196
Donkeys, 365
handsome, 342
Doogh, 171
Doong, 391
Door, substitute for, 394
Doors at Erzeroum, 213
silver, 196
Double snipe, 107
Dozd-gah, 262
Dr. Hoernle, 163
Dr. Odling, 351
Dressel’s, 408
Dresses of honour, 51
Dress of dervishes, 43
Dried bread, 336
fruits, preparing, 169
Drink in Julfa, 141
Drive to Ispahan, 373
Drunkards, Persian, 141
Dubbeh, 188
Ducks, wild, 176
Dunaberg, 407
Dung beetles, 216
Duration of journey, 412
Durbend, 404
Dyah, 326
Dying twice, 203

Early rising, 33, 116

Eating opium, 181
Ecbatana, 80
Economy of trading class, 172
Educated women, 339
Education, 337
of Armenians, 144
Effects of Bastinado, 148
Egglesiah Wang, 138, 157
Embassy, the English, 372
Embroideries, 333
Enamels, 331
English missionaries, 155
Engraving on metal, 332
seal, 184
Enzelli, 210, 402
Episcopal throne, 160
Erivan, 19
Eructation, politeness of, 91
Erzeroum, 212
Esther, tomb of, 75
Etiquette, 28
Evil eye, the, 325
Exaggeration, 315
Execution of a Baabi, 154
of a Prince, 125
of a woman, 275
of women, 122
Executions, 202
Expelled nun, 163
Expenses, our, 187
Eyebrows, painting the, 325
Eyn-ul-Molk, 38
Fair hair at a discount, 324
Faithless women, fate of, 275
Faizabad, 356
Fallen fruit, 311
Fals, 277
Famine, 251 to 255
at Ispahan, 253
at Kūmishah, 254
at Shiraz, 253
grain seized during the, 252
rise in mule-hire during the, 251
Fantails, 94
Fards, use of, 323
Farnooses, 115
Fars, 272
Fast of Ramazan, 284
Fasts, Armenian, 144
Father, the, 314
Fathmeh, 387
Fee, compulsory, of a vizier, 255
Feen, 386
Fellek, 147
Fellow-travellers, Persian, 215
Felt coats, 152, 320
Feramūsh Khana, 124
Ferhad and Shireen, 119
Feridan, 131
Fermenting of wine, 232
Ferns and bush vegetation, 400
Fight amongst robbers, 265
Fighting rams, 308
Figures of (?) Fame, 119
Finn, Mr., 310
Firdūsi, 338
Fire temple, 364
Firewood as a crop, 364
weighing, 25
Fireworks, 377
Firman, Royal, 257
First cousins, 326
fruits, 168
professional, visit, 41
Fish in hot spring, 348
in kanāats, 128
poison, 129
poisoning, 386
Flap-jacks, 335
Flat, the, 405
Flirtations, the Prince’s, 280
Flowers, common, 172
near Caspian, 400
wild, 173
Foods of poor, 336
Forests near Caspian, 400
Forged antiquities, 76
Fortune-tellers, 120
Freehold, my cheap, 206
Frogs, 398
Frozen wine, 58
Fruit, fallen, 311
Fruits, 168
“Furder,” 126
Furniture, black-wood, 345
want of, 123
Fussa, 240, 243
fertility, 247
Governor of, 244
Futteh Ali Shah’s family, 59

G⸺, Colonel, 2
G⸺, Mr., 97
Gambling in Pera, 9
Game, 299
Games, 97
Gardening, 309
Garden-parties, 311
Gardens at Shiraz, 223
Gate of Royal Garden, 198
Gelim, 152
Georgian ladies, 17
Gersteiger Khan, the Baron, 370
Gez, 158, 383
Ghilān shoes, 399
Gholam, a bold, 178
Girls’ school, 165
Goggles, 54
Golden pipes, 112
Goldsmid, Sir F., 56, 157, 417
Goor Khur, 308
Gougas, 127
Governor of Fars, 135
Fussa, 244
Governor’s garden, 199
Grain, extracting, 174
stores, curious, 385
Grape feeding of horses, 103
sugar, 171
Grapes as horse feed, 171
varieties of, 171
Grateful Armenian, 93
Graves, Armenian, 162
Great square of Teheran, 52
Gregor, Saint, 160
Greyhounds, 305
“Grimes,” 344
Guebre-abad, 385
Guebre gardener, 369
Gulf Arabs, 106
Gulhaek, 369
road, 36
Gūlpigon, 127, 132
Gulshan caravanserai, 200
Gūmrūkji, anecdote of a, 237
Gun at sunset, 284
Gunge, a, 77
Guns, blowing from, 202
Gurken, 216
Gymnastics, 98

H⸺, Mr., 128

Habashi, 326
Hadji, 121
Hadjiabad, 354
Hadji Ali Akbar, 229
Baba, 3
Kawam, 272
Khalleel, 109
Mahomed, 381
Saduk Ispahani, 192
Hadji Mirza Kerim, 192
Hafiz, tomb of, 276
Hailstones, large, 391
Hair of women, 323
wearing the, 321
Hajeeb, 392
Hakim-bashi, 201
princes, the, 145
Hamadan, 57, 64
vines at, 311
wine, 57
Hamilton poles, 301
Handicrafts, 189
Hansard, Captain, 343
Harem, the, 39
Hassir, 197
Hats, 223, 320
Headgear, 321
Head-rolling dervish, 43
Health of the staff, 296
Henna, 334
High priest, anecdote of, 290
Highway robbers, 263
Hippocrates, 82
Hissam-es-Sultaneh, 204
Hockey, Sergeant, 127
Hoernle, Dr., 163
Home-life of families, 92
Honesty of Ispahanis, 192
Hornet, death from sting of, 250
Horse-breaking, 352
Horse clothing, 90
feed, 102
market, the, 201
Horses, breeds of, 104
grape feeding on, 103
height of, 100
on grass, 103
price of, 106
Hospitality, strange want of, 267
Hotel at Kasvin, 395
de Byzance, 212
Hot spring, 348
Houssein and Hassan, 279
Khari, 201
Kūli Khan, death of, 262
name of, 281
House-building, 126
House, I buy a, 206
snakes, 307
Huge tent, 280
Hughes, Mr., 127
Hunting party, 84

I am mobbed, 82
I am robbed, 263
Ibrahim, 383
Ice, cheapness of, 246
mode of making, 241
Ices, 240
I commence the cornet, 72
I decorate a house, 206
Idleness of Armenians, 359
I fall among brigands, 259
Illness, 207
of Zil-es-Sultan, 255
Imādieh, 118
Imād-u-Dowlet, 108
looted, 119
Imād-u-Dowlet’s bad son, 124
Imām-i-Juma, 153, 199
Imām Riza, 387
Imāmzādeh Hāshem, 400
Immorality of Armenians, 138
pigeon-flying, 94
Impregnable village, 262
Impromptu entertainment, 312
Indelicate dress of ladies, 40
Indian lottery, 340
Industry of Armenian women, 360
Infants, 325
Inlaid work, 332
Interest, rate of, 76
Interior of house of a grandee, 39
mosque, 97
Intricate carpentry, 39
Intrigues of Shiraz women, 276
Ironing, 333
Iron poles, 301
Irregular cavalry, 266
Irreligion common, 339
Irrigation, artificial, 127
Iskender, 378
Ispahan, 215
 arrival at, 135
Ispahan bridge, 135
cobs, 105
Ispahani, honesty of, 192
Ispahan priests, 197
start for, 127
Istikhara, 277
Istikhbal, 56, 109

J⸺, Colonel, V.C., 217

J⸺, Mr., 387
Jack and Jill, 83
Jade teapot, 201
Jaffir Kūli, 381
Jahn-i-ma Garden, 276
Japanese embassy, 377
Jars of sweets, broken, 258
Jeddah, 342
Jejim carpets, 152
Jesuits, church of, 143
Jewelled belts, 320
wand, 258
Jewellery, 323
Jewish sacrifice, 258
shrines, 75
Jews, 74, 146
at Erzeroum, 213
burial-ground, 293
 oppression of, 146
thrown into tank, 52
treatment of, 377
Jika, the, 322
Johannes, Mr., 144, 163
Jokes of robbers, 267
Journey home, 208, 381
through Turkey, 213
Juba, the, 318
Judicious bishop, 139
Julfa, 135, 137
ancient, 161
cathedral, 157
cemetery, 162
customs, 359
doorways, 142
emigration, 143
nunnery, 139
origin of, 161
priests, 363
quarters, 206
Justice, 146
Persian, 295

Kabobs, 89, 297

Kafsh, 321
Kah, 174
Kah-gil, 369
Kahtam, 332
Kakheite wine, 18
Kalāat, meeting the, 255
my, 258
of Kawam, 258
Kalam-dan, 288
Kalian, 15
Kalians, details as to, 29
Kalifa, Kuchek, 138
Kammer, 142
Kanāats, 127
Kangawar, fish in, 128
temple at, 107
Kanjar, 320
Karabagh, 219
horses, 105
Karageus, 6
Kara Sū, the river, 108
Kashan, 385
Kashish Mardyros, 141
Kasim, wedding of, 282
Kasvin, Syud at, 208
Kawam, 257
Kalāat of, 258
Kawamabad, 355
Kawam-u-Dowlet, 239
Kawam-ul-Molk, 270
Kazerūn, 349
Keesa, the, 334
Kemball, Sir A., 208