She sat up with a jolt. Her hair was all sweaty. She looked at the clock and she couldn't believe it was 9:07A.M. Paul was still buried in the pillow beside her, snoring in a high, sinister cackle.
She dressed hurriedly, in a black coat-suit and a gray sweater, snagging her new black pantyhose with her fingernail. She managed to gulp down half a glass of orange juice before hopping out of the house with the back of one shoe squashed awkwardly beneath her foot and a folded piece of bread and Flora clenched between her teeth. As she neared Cork she found that the main road was jammed with over a mile and a half of traffic. The Jack Lynch Tunnel was closed by striking truck drivers and there was a checkpoint opposite the Silver Springs Hotel, where four gardai were flagging down every black and dark-colored Mercedes. When she eventually managed to reach the checkpoint, one of them sardonically saluted her. 'Sorry about the delay, Superintendent.' It began to rain.
In her office, Liam and Jimmy were both waiting for her, staring out of the window.
'I'll bet you ten euros I could pot three of those crows before the rest of them flew away,' said Liam.
'With respect, sir,' Jimmy replied, 'I'll bet you twenty euros you couldn't even hit the fucking car park.'
Katie came in and hung up her raincoat. 'Never try to interfere with bad omens,' she said, sharply. Jimmy looked at Liam and raised one quizzical eyebrow, but neither of them said anything.
'So, where are we, Jimmy?' she asked him, sitting down at her desk and switching on her computer. 'Any more news from Dublin?'
'Nothing so far. But we've had some luck with the missing women from 1915.'
He opened his notepad and read out, 'A lady from Bishopstown called in to say that Mrs. Betty Hickey, who disappeared from Glenville in November, 1915, was her grandmother; and a fellow from Ballyvolane reckons that Mrs. Mary O'Donovan was his great-great-aunt. Both of them are quite happy to go to the hospital to have DNA samples taken. That's if we pay for the taxis.'
'Well, that's something. Do we know when Fiona Kelly's parents will be arriving?'
Liam said, 'They're flying into Dublin at half past seven tomorrow morning. Don't worry-I've already made arrangements to have them met. Oh-and Professor O'Brien called you. He said that he'd call you back later.'
'Oh, God.'
'He said he had something to tell you. Something fascinating, as it goes, but not desperately urgent.'
'Thanks, Liam.'
Jimmy said, 'We set up all the checkpoints this morning, to stop the drivers of black and dark-colored Mercs. Well, I expect you had to go through one yourself, didn't you? Nothing so far, but we're taking all their names and addresses to check their stories later, and we've taken soil samples from their front nearside tires.'
'Good. I hope our lord and master hasn't been grumbling too much about the traffic congestion.'
'Of course he has. But that's his job, isn't it, grumbling?'
Katie pressed the button on her phone and asked the switchboard to put her through to Dr. Reidy. While she waited, she leafed quickly through her mail, which included two invitations to give careers talks to local schools. At this moment, she had only seven words of advice for young girls:
Liam sat on the corner of her desk and said, 'By the way, we're making progress with the crucifixion.'
'Oh, yes?' she said, without looking up.
'The nail gun and the compressor were stolen from that fashion shop they're doing up, opposite the post office. They were reported missing first thing yesterday morning, as soon as the fitters found out they were gone.'
'Nobody saw or heard anything, of course?'
'We haven't found any eyewitnesses so far. But they must have taken the stuff shortly after four o'clock, when the fitters finish work. It's always pretty crowded around there at that time of night, so I'm hopeful.'
'Good. But don't waste too much time on it, will you? Whoever did it, and for whatever reason, I'm sure that Dave MacSweeny deserved it.'
'Whatever you say. But even Our Lord was given a trial.'
The phone warbled. It was Dr. Reidy. Katie swiveled around in her chair so that she could look out at the crows clustered on the car park roof. There seemed to be even more of them today, twenty or thirty, quarreling and scabrous.
'Ah, Superintendent!' Dr. Reidy bellowed. He sounded as if he were walking down a long, echoing corridor. 'I have only one major finding to report, apart from the bad mussel I discovered in my seafood stew last night. Next time, can you please keep your restaurant recommendations to yourself? That place had the decor of a futuristic public convenience and the food of a nineteenth-century poorhouse.'
'I'm sorry about that, Dr. Reidy. The last time I ate there it was really very good. You didn't get ill, I hope?'
'Not me, my dear. I can smell putrescence from a quarter of a mile away.'
'So what was your other major finding?'
'Aha, well! Fiona Kelly was not sexually assaulted. Obviously the trauma to her body is so extensive that it's practically impossible for me to say if she was otherwise interfered with. But her vaginal and rectal tissues show no signs of forcible penetration, and ultraviolet shows no traces of semen in her body.'
'I see. Did the perpetrator leave any other DNA evidence?'
'Not that we've managed to find yet. No foreign hairs, no foreign skin cells, no blood that didn't belong to the deceased, no saliva, no other bodily excretions. I mean, this isn't entirely surprising, considering the condition of her remains, but don't despair prematurely. We're going over her, millimeter by millimeter, and who knows, our diligence may yet be rewarded.'
