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Martina turned to look at him. ‘You’re joking me. I didn’t notice that.’

‘And I thought there was an underlying earthy odour. I know smoking cigars blunts my sense of smell, but…’ He stopped. ‘Shit, Brennan, it could have been from meat. Human? I don’t know, but I should have inspected it while we were there.’

They drove in silence away from the house.

‘He is a chef after all, but do we get a search warrant for his house?’ Martina asked.

Kirby’s racing imagination had calmed a little as he drove. ‘He might have cut up a side of beef to store in his freezer.’

‘His house is so small. I didn’t notice a freezer.’

‘Might be outside in a shed. Does he even have a shed?’

She shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’

‘I didn’t notice any blood or cuts on Edie’s body, but she was partially submerged in the river. I’ll have to think about how to proceed.’

He indicated to turn off Main Street and drove up towards the station. At the top of the street, Ragmullin Cathedral stood in all its magnificence, imposing its stature on the town. So much had happened over recent decades to destroy the power that the Church had held over the people, he thought, and he for one wasn’t sorry about that. Others might not think the same.

‘I wish Inspector Parker was here,’ Martina said. ‘She’d know what to do next.’

‘And I don’t?’ Kirby took the turn into the station yard a bit tight, and Martina squealed.

‘I’m sorry for saying that,’ she said. ‘It was disrespectful to you. You’re doing just fine.’

‘Nah, it’s okay. You’re right. I could do with the boss’s guidance.’

‘Don’t fret. You’ll do what you can.’

‘Let’s see when the post-mortem is scheduled and we can take things forward from there.’ He parked but didn’t switch off the engine. ‘Where did Edie work?’

‘In a hair salon in town. Happy Hair.’

He shook his head. ‘Jesus, who comes up with those names? I’d prefer a Happy Meal or a happy hour myself.’

After making a sharp U-turn in the station yard, Kirby drove back out again. ‘I think we need to have a chat with Noel. I want to get a sense of him as a person.’

‘He’s just a kid.’

‘You call twenty-five a kid?’ He caught her eye. ‘You’re not much older than that yourself, Martina, and I’d never class you as a kid.’

‘I know, but still…’

They drove in silence down Bishop Street and around the back of the town to Miller’s Road, which was located close to the greyhound stadium. The Butlers lived in a duplex apartment, one of sixteen nestled behind an open gate and low wall.

‘You sure he’s here?’ Kirby peered over his hands on the steering wheel as he parked the car.

‘He said he wouldn’t be going back to work when he left the station this morning and he’d be at home if we needed him.’

She walked to number 11 and pressed the doorbell while Kirby eyed the carwash down the road. He wondered if he should get his car cleaned, but then the door opened and he clapped eyes on Noel Butler for the first time. Tall and lean, with shining shoulder-length black hair, he wore a faded black T-shirt and denim jeans ripped at the knees. His skin was clear and, like his hair, smooth and clean.

He invited them into the apartment. It didn’t appear to be much larger than Robert Hayes’s house. Snug and cosy was how Kirby would describe it. When they’d settled onto faux-leather armchairs with Noel sitting on the edge of the two-seater couch, Martina took out her notebook.

‘Thanks for seeing us,’ Kirby said. ‘I want to offer my condolence on the death of your mother.’

‘Her murder, you mean.’

‘Edie’s cause of death has not been confirmed as yet, but foul play has to be a contributing factor.’