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‘It was never reported to the gardaí. The bishop now says he shelved it for lack of evidence. God Almighty give me patience. Hayes got kicked out of the clergy but was left to his own devices to roam the country and settle in Ragmullin.’

‘The Church has a lot to answer for.’

‘You’re right there,’ Mooney said. ‘How did he come to meet Edie Butler?’

‘Well, he said he originally knew her in Galway in the eighties.’ Kirby had yet to get to grips with Edie’s life story. He felt he was jumping all over the place. Two steps forwards, one step back. What he’d learned from her son was that Edie was like a wounded bird. Noel had been sure she’d carried some early life trauma in her heart. ‘Hayes may have sought her out if helearned she was living in Ragmullin, or he may have bumped into her. Ragmullin isn’t like Galway. It’s a small enough town in a smaller county.’

‘Still, of all the women he could meet…’

Leaning back in the comfortable chair, Kirby patted his shirt pocket, as usual craving a smoke. ‘You’re right. Something or someone could have led him to her.’

‘Was she ever featured in the local papers for anything? He may have seen a photograph of her.’

‘From what I can gather, talking to the salon staff where she worked, and her son, she was a private person. Not involved in anything in the community, as far as they could tell me. Liked her alcohol, though, and Hayes worked in a pub as a chef, so he could have spotted her there.’

‘What about a husband?’

‘He died in an accident right before her younger lad was born. She has two sons. Noel works as a mechanic, the other, Jerry, is a student. He’s just flown back from an end-of-school trip abroad. Such a sad time for them both.’

A knock came on the door and it was opened without Mooney answering.

‘Sarge, Councillor Wilson is downstairs spitting fire.’

‘That’s all I need. What’s his problem this time?’

‘It’s about his wife. He says she never came home from work and she’s not at her shop.’

‘Maybe she went to the pub for a drink. Met a friend. Went shopping or something. Fob him off.’

Kirby eyed Mooney. ‘I wouldn’t be so quick to do that if I were you.’

‘You don’t know Wilson like I do. If there’s a day without his puss in the paper or his voice on the radio, he blames us. A fucking head-the-ball, he is.’

‘My boss told me that she spoke with her today. Something about a disturbing conversation. And if she really is missing…’

Mooney rubbed his beard, tightened his tie and stood.

‘What has Lottie Parker done now? God give me strength. Seems I better give the Pope his audience then.’

‘What are you doing to find my wife?’ Wilson exploded before Mooney hardly had his toe across the threshold. He noticed that the councillor was without his customary cravat.

‘You’d better sit down and explain it all to me,’ he said, keeping his voice as low and even as he could muster.

‘I told that other guard. He wrote it down. I want to know what you’re doing about it.’

‘We have three murders to investigate, Mr Wilson.’ He refused to call him Councillor. ‘Unless you can show me some proof that your wife has been harmed or is missing, you must wait a few more hours.’

‘Proof she’s been harmed? You want me to bring you her body?’

‘No need for theatrics.’

‘You have three people murdered and no one charged. You arrested that prick O’Shaughnessy and then you let him go. Do you even know what you’re doing? Are you waiting until my wife turns up dead as number four?’

‘Not at all. Have you checked the pubs and?—’

‘My wife does not drink in public houses. You are insulting me now, Sergeant.’

‘Maybe she went for a drive. Is her car at her work or at home?’