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and footpath. That’s when she called in.’
    ‘How come she didn’t notice the blood earlier?’
    ‘She’d only looked out for a split second. She was pretty shook up.’
    ‘I’d imagine she was.’ Kate looked out of the front window of her own apartment down onto the street below, trying to visualise the events. ‘Were the stab wounds front or back?’
    ‘Front, just below the ribcage.’
    ‘Then Keith Jenkins saw his killer.’
    ‘Well, he isn’t going to be a whole lot of help to us now, is he, Kate?’
    ‘No, but if the victim was still alive when they arrived at the canal, and the killer didn’t make any attempt to hide his identity in such a public place, it means something.’
    ‘What? That he panicked?’
    ‘Perhaps he did panic, but it’s unlikely that even a panicked killer would choose a public place, unless, of course, he had something else on his mind.’
    ‘Jesus, you’re beginning to sound like Morrison. Spit it out, Kate.’
    ‘Maybe the killer not only wanted his victim to see him, but others too. Either that or the risk of being caught was outweighed by other, more important factors. I assume I’m in on this one, O’Connor?’
    ‘You assume right. How are you fixed?’
    ‘A couple of important cases, but I can work around them.’
    ‘Good – I’ll see you shortly. We’re below Leeson Street Bridge.’
    ‘I know where it is. You’ve organised the clearance?’
    ‘Don’t ask stupid questions, Kate. I don’t have the patience for them.’
    ‘Neither do I. I’m on my way.’
    ‘Kate.’
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘Keith Jenkins’s body is already on its way to the morgue.’
    ‘Then I’ll need the images taken at the scene.’
    ‘Consider it done.’
    As Kate drove away from her apartment in Ranelagh village, the thing uppermost in her mind was not the victim’s celebrity status, or the slimy waters where his body had been found, but why the killer hadn’t finished off Keith Jenkins with the first attack. Why bring a half-dying man to the canal to drown him, leaving his body where it was easily found?

Clodagh
    During the night I awoke because the pipes were gurgling – Martin washing his hands for the umpteenth time. At one point I thought I heard a car turning into the drive, but I must have imagined it. It was the morning seagulls that finally got me up.
    I’ve waited all morning for Val’s call. So, when the phone rings I pick it up immediately, recognising her mobile number on the small screen.
    ‘Clodagh, it’s Val.’ She sounds like she’s whispering.
    ‘Do you have the number?’ I keep my voice steady. It seems like forever since the dinner party. We finally finished before nine. That wouldn’t have happened in my drinking days. Val hadn’t expected me to take her aside – we’d never got past first base in our relationship – but when you need to know something, unexpected people become your ally.
    ‘Clodagh, I’m not sure about this.’
    ‘Don’t worry. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ My voice is upbeat.
    ‘That’s all very well, Clodagh, but after the therapy and everything …’
    ‘It’s precisely because of the therapy that I’m doing this.’ I sound more assured than I feel. There’s no point in making her nervy.
    ‘Well, he does come highly recommended.’
    ‘I’m sure he does.’
    ‘Does Martin know about this, Clodagh?’
    ‘What do you think?’ Her silence answers her question. ‘Val, hold on while I get a pen and paper.’ I place the handset on the hall table,pulling out the small drawer underneath. Then, with the phone between my ear and shoulder, I write down the name, address and phone number.
    ‘I can drive you there,’ she says. ‘I don’t mind.’
    ‘Thanks, Val. I’m best going on my own.’
    ‘But you’re not allowed to drive.’
    ‘There’s such a thing as taxis.’ Immediately I regret sounding harsh. I soften my voice: ‘I don’t want to drag you into this, Val. I appreciate your help.’
    ‘Well, if