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‘How would I know?’ McKeown snapped. ‘It doesn’t say and I doubt it’s relevant, as she’s been living here for a long time.’

‘Everything is relevant until it’s not.’ Kirby felt a little surge of glee at his riposte.

McKeown had the audacity to roll his eyes before continuing. ‘I’ve found out that she was married, then widowed. We can ask her sons if she’s been in any relationships?—’

‘Why on earth would you ask two young lads about their mother’s marital status? She’s just after being found dead.’ Kirby threw his hands heavenwards.

McKeown ignored him. ‘She drank a lot, too,’ he said.

‘For God’s sake, you’re unreal. I suppose you asked the son how many glasses of wine she consumes on a Friday night?’

‘No, I did not. I haven’t spoken to the family yet. It’s written here, recounted from the older son when he reported her missing.’

Swallowing his gall, Kirby said, ‘Go on, Sherlock, enlighten me further.’

But before McKeown could continue, Garda Martina Brennan entered the office, sounding breathless. ‘Sorry for barging in, but this is important.’

‘Go ahead,’ Kirby said, loving the darkness that descended on McKeown’s eyes when Martina ignored him.

‘There’s a lad at the desk downstairs. Noel Butler, Edie Butler’s son. Says he read on Facebook that a woman was found in the river, and someone commented saying it was her. He wants to know if it is, and if so, why wasn’t he informed.’

‘You seem to be the boss of this,’ Kirby said, pointing to McKeown, glad that it wasn’t him having to do the informing.

‘Shit, how did that information get out?’ McKeown said. ‘We only have photographic identification. Come on, Martina, you can sit in with me while I formally break the bad news to her son.’

‘Why me?’ She frowned. ‘If it’s because I’m a woman, that’s sexist.’

‘It’s because I need someone with me who has a clear head and a calm demeanour. Gobshite there is making my blood pressure skyrocket.’

Martina gave Kirby a sympathetic pat on the arm as she followed McKeown out of the office.

This is going to be a shitshow, Kirby thought.

6

Chloe Parker returned from the shop with the daily newspaper for her gran. Rose Fitzpatrick insisted on having it; said she liked the feel of the pages between her fingers, even though she had access to the radio and television news.

She laid the paper on the table in front of Rose who scrabbled about for her glasses. Chloe noticed how her gran had dressed herself. Yesterday’s clothes, despite her having laid out clean fare on the bedroom chair. A slobber of marmalade down the front of her blouse, the collar manky. Dementia was a cruel disease. She felt she was fighting a losing battle, so she switched on the kettle to make a cup of tea.

‘There’s nothing in here about it that I can see.’ Rose rustled the paper loudly. ‘It should be on the front page.’

‘What should?’ Chloe fetched two mugs and took the sugar bowl out of the cupboard. Almost empty. She mentally added sugar to the growing list of groceries needed. Her sister, Katie, could go next time. She was bored of having to do everything. At least her mam would get a little respite this week, being away with Boyd.

‘That woman’s murder,’ Rose said indignantly, as if Chloe should know what she was talking about. ‘I heard it on the midland radio news while you were at the shop.’

‘What woman? When did it happen?’

‘This morning. Someone found a body in the river.’

‘Really? I didn’t hear that.’ Chloe opened the tea-bag box to find only one bag remaining. It would do for her gran, and she’d have coffee instead. ‘There’s no way it could be in the paper if it only happened this morning.’ Damn. The coffee was rock hard in the bottom of the jar. Gran must have put a wet spoon into it.

‘And why not?’ Rose’s voice was rising. ‘It’s news, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but the papers are printed the night before. You know that.’

‘Are they? Oh aye. I forgot.’

Chloe made their drinks – at least they had fresh milk – and brought the mugs to the table.