The clerk cut her off. “Sorry, no room service this morning.”

“What?” Sheila whined.

“No room service. A limited breakfast is being served in the dining room. Terribly sorry.”

Sheila sighed and hung up the phone. “No room service. That’s just great.” She shook her head. “I’ve always enjoyed our stays at Hennessy Castle, but this time I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“For a lot of reasons,” Brian agreed. “Let’s hope we don’t run into the Reillys this morning.”

Sheila did not give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Brian forcefully threw back the covers. “I won’t be able to breathe easily until we hand over those paintings to old man Finnegan.”

“I can’t wait to finally see them,” Sheila said excitedly, then laughed. “Over at the convent…”

A young bellman named Liam, who had been the one to bring Jane and John Doe’s bags to their room when they had checked in, was ushered into Neil’s office. In his early twenties, tall and lanky, with a round face, twinkling eyes, and a quick smile, Liam clearly enjoyed the excitement of being questioned about the two suspected criminals.

“They had a big black suitcase on wheels and two tote bags,” he began. “I loaded them onto the cart, and as we walked to their room, I told them about all the amenities Hennessy Castle has to offer, as I always do.”

Neil nodded approvingly.

“You know, people like to hear about the spa and room service, that kind of thing. Then I asked them where they were coming in from. They said London.”

“Did they have English accents?” Regan asked.

“Yes. They sounded like the queen!-like they had plums in their mouths. They walked very slowly, and the lady said she was tired from the flight and wanted to take a nap and order room service for dinner. When we got to their room, I offered to get them ice, but they weren’t interested. He gave me a good tip. That was it.”

“Was there anything unusual about them?” Jack asked. “Anything they said or did that you remember?”

Liam’s baby face looked thoughtful. “Let’s see… Oh, there was one thing that kind of struck me,” he said with enthusiasm as he recalled the memory. “When I took their suitcase and hoisted it onto the luggage rack in their room, I noticed that it didn’t have any tags on it. Like it hadn’t been checked in at the airport. Some people rip the tags off right away when they unpack; others leave them on until their next trip. But they said they had just come from the airport. Believe me, I see all kinds of suitcases. Some are pretty nice, and others are pretty ratty. Have you ever seen a suitcase that’s taped up because the zipper’s broken?” Liam laughed heartily. “It always surprises me. You think that people who could afford to stay at Hennessy Castle would spring for luggage that doesn’t look as if it’s been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.”

“We don’t have many of those,” Neil said, his tone flat and disapproving.

“No, we don’t, we don’t,” Liam agreed quickly. “Not a-tall. Indeed. No way. The guests here are lovely.”

“Did the other bags have tags or anything you noticed about them?” Jack interrupted.

The bellman closed his eyes and nodded, trying not to laugh again. “Oh, dear, this is going to sound mean.”

“What?” Jack asked. “Just say it.”

“I live down in Galway. They had a road race recently, a mini-marathon, if you will. My girlfriend and I ran in it. It was freezing cold. When you crossed the finish line, they gave out funny little decals to stick on your gym bag. It’s a cartoon of runners piling up as they cross the finish line. One of those decals was on one of their tote bags. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Are you sure it was the decal from the race?”

“Yes! Can you imagine? The woman did nothing but complain about her aches and pains as they slowly shuffled down the hall. I thought I’d never get back to the front desk. I never dreamt her aches and pains could come from jogging! I just can’t picture them in a 5K. It takes all kinds, doesn’t it?”

“When was the race?” Jack asked.

“Hmmm, last November.”

“November?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t comment to them about the decal?”

“No. I thought it would be rude. I didn’t think they could make it to the bed, never mind run a race. Also, I noticed the decal right before I left the room. They seemed like they wanted to be left alone.”

At least it’s a start, Regan thought. No luggage tags and a decal that put them in Galway last November. “Do you think you could get us one of those decals?” she asked.

“Sure. I have one and so does my girlfriend. It really is the way everyone looks at the end of one of those races. Miserable. You’d never guess that running is supposed to release those happy hormones.”

Jack thanked Liam for his help and exchanged numbers with him.

“I’ll bring the decal to work with me tomorrow,” Liam offered as he stood and shook their hands. “If you need it before, just give me a ring.”

“Great,” Jack said. “By the way, do you have to register to run in that race?”

“You’re supposed to, but a lot of people decide to run at the last minute and jump in.”

“Thanks again, Liam.”

Neil nodded. “Back to the job, Liam.”

“Yes, sir.” When he opened the door to leave, Conor, the chef, was about to tap on it. Liam walked past him.

“Sorry to bother you,” Conor said, “but I was just on the blower with the supplier from Dublin. They can’t get a new stove to us before the end of the week at the earliest.”

“The end of the week!” Neil cried. “An hour ago they said it wouldn’t be a problem to get one out here by tomorrow!”

“They made a mistake. Turns out the one they had in stock is broken. They don’t have many stoves that size just sitting around.” Conor nodded in the direction of the reception area. “Word is spreading that our menu is going to be quite limited. People are getting upset.”

“Who told the guests?” Neil asked as he jumped out of his chair.

“You know how it is around here…” Conor mumbled as Regan and Jack followed Neil out of his office.

In the lobby, a new bout of hysteria was breaking out. “We’re outta here,” one man cried, full of spit and vinegar. “I came here for the great food. My wife can barely boil water. This was supposed to be a treat. We’ll find a hotel that can at least serve us a meal!”

“We’re leaving, too!” another couple cried. “We’d be better off camping.”

“We’ll do our best,” Neil began. “There’s a pub down the road that serves a lovely shepherd’s pie. We have arranged for our guests to have dinner there tonight, if you like, and hopefully we’ll get a new stove by tomorrow.” But he knew it was no use. Until they had a working kitchen, no one would want to stay at the castle. The guests crowding around the front desk were becoming increasingly mutinous, and it would probably be better if they just packed up and left.

Neil turned to Regan and Jack. “Will you be leaving?”

“No,” Jack said firmly. “We’re going to track down Jane and John Doe, but we’re not going to desert you, Neil. It’s because of me that you’re in this mess.”

“You’re right about that,” Neil said wearily.

Regan was glad that Jack wanted to stay. Besides the hunt for Jane and John Doe, she was determined to find out more about May Reilly-and whoever it was she had seen on the back lawn last night.