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didn’t stand a chance.’
    ‘I believe anything at this stage,’ Fallon replied. ‘And this’ll be another one to add to your collection. The poor girl was made to swallow a sword.’
    ‘What, like down the throat?’
    ‘No, no, straight out the back of her skull.’ Fallon did a thrusting motion past her head to illustrate. ‘She’s laid out like a sacrifice.’
    ‘Jesus. Three sacrifices in one day.’ The pathologist shook her head and tugged on a glove. ‘The devil’s been busy.’
    ‘Well, if the note’s anything to go by, it’s the first in a sequence.’
    ‘And I was hoping for a holiday,’ Professor Jones said, keeping her voice buoyant and rolling her eyes. She wanted the mood serious but light. Death was a sombre, depressing affair and she found quips and playful teasing the best way to combat the sober funk that could envelop an investigating team. ‘How’re you getting on, Igor?’
    Her assistant, Billy Keane, started to pull on his protective suit. ‘Not a bother,’ he replied. ‘I’ll be ready when you are.’
    ‘How’s the room?’ the pathologist asked Fallon.
    ‘We’ve cleaned a pathway over to her for you. The killer has washed the room down and bathed the body. Once you’re done and the body’s removed we’ll finish up.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Probably tomorrow at this stage. The local doctor pronounced her dead this morning before we arrived; we have his notes for you.’
    ‘Thanks. You ready then, Igor?’ Elaine Jones pulled a mask down over her nose and mouth.
    Billy hung a camera round his neck. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
    ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your mother. Look at the size of you.’ She stood next to him, her five foot one frame dwarfed by his six foot five. ‘You’d have split me in half if I’d tried to give birth to you! If you get the chance, can one of your team get us some coffee,’ she said to Fallon. ‘It’s all that’s keeping us going at this stage.’
     
     
    ‘Bishop!’ the chief superintendent snapped.
    ‘The rumour mill’s starting to work,’ McEvoy said without introduction. ‘I think we need to release a fuller statement to the media. We need to straighten them out on a few things and fill in a few blanks. We also need to appeal for witnesses who might have seen strangers in and around the area in the last few days. The usual stuff.’
    ‘I’ve already had someone working on it. You want to check it through before I talk to the media?’
    ‘You’re talking to the media?’ McEvoy asked, confusion in his voice. ‘I thought it was to be Peter O’Reilly’s five minutes of fame?’
    ‘There’s been a change of plan,’ Bishop said firmly. ‘This thing’s going to be international news. A young girl made to swallow a sword. The UK dailies have already been on, plus a couple of the US stations – Fox, CNN. We’ll be running this out of the national press office.’
    And it’ll be your five minutes of fame, McEvoy thought, unsurprised by Bishop’s change of plan.
    ‘Look, Colm, I know you’re not a great fan of media work, but I’d be grateful if you’d be available tomorrow morning for half an hour. They’ll want to talk to the senior investigating officer.’
    ‘Would Peter O’Reilly not be better?’ McEvoy hazarded. ‘This is his patch.’
    ‘No, I want you to do it. It’ll be you they’ll want to talk to, not some local yokel.’
    ‘Okay,’ McEvoy said reluctantly. Whatever Peter O’Reilly was, he wasn’t a yokel. Anyone who made superintendent had to have some guile and wits.
    ‘They may be a real pain sometimes,’ Bishop explained, ‘but it’s best to keep them onside. You never know when you might need them, like now.’
    ‘What time?’ McEvoy conceded.
    ‘ Ten o’clock in the Phoenix Park . And wear your best suit and tie. Not one of your worn-out specials.’
    ‘I’ll dig them out.’ The last thing he wanted to do was to spend the morning in garda headquarters talking