A Terrible Beauty

'You said before that this might have been a ritual killing. Now that you've made an arrest, do you still hold that view?'

'We're looking into a number of different motives.'

'Of which ritual killing is still one?'

'Yes.'

'Do you have a clearer idea of what kind of ritual this might have been?'

'I have some idea, yes.'

'Would you like to share that with us?'

'Not at this time, no.'

'This girl who went missing this morning-what's her name, Siobhan Buckley. Do you think there could be a link with Fiona Kelly's abduction?'

Before Katie could answer, Dermot O'Driscoll stepped forward and said, 'There's no evidence of any connection whatsoever. We're very optimistic that we'll find Siobhan Buckley safe and well. If she fails to return home within twenty-four hours we will of course be setting up a thorough search. But with Tomas O Conaill in custody I can reassure all the young women of Cork that it is very much safer for them to walk the city streets.'

When she returned to her office, she found that the light on her telephone was flashing. She picked it up and pressed the button for the operator.

'There's someone downstairs to see you, Detective Superintendent.'

'I'm sorry, I'm completely tied up right now. Ask him to leave his name and telephone number, and a short note of what he wants to see me about.'

'It's a woman, actually. She says it's very important. Something to do with Siobhan Buckley.'

At that moment Liam came in with a stack of technical reports. He put them down on her desk and turned to go. 'Liam-' she said, holding out her hand. 'Liam, I have to talk to you.'

'I've got an appointment in Glanmire,' he told her, and he tapped his wristwatch. 'I'm running half an hour late as it is.'

'I'll catch you later, then.'

'What do you want me to do about this woman?' asked the operator, impatiently.

'Ask her if she can wait for a couple more minutes. Then I'll come down.'

She picked up the technical reports and quickly thumbed through them. Most of them were fingerprint matches from the doors and steering wheel of the stolen Mercedes, although there was also a preliminary DNA report on several blond hairs found in the front foot well. There was almost no doubt at all that they had belonged to Fiona Kelly.

A search of the cottage itself, though, had still failed to produce any fingerprints that matched Tomas O Conaill's, although blankets and bedding and cushions had been sent off for analysis, as had cups and glasses and cutlery and a bar of soap.

After she had looked through the folder, Katie went downstairs to the main reception area. Next to the cheese plant just inside the doorway sat a dowdy middle-aged woman in a brown knitted hat and a brown coat surrounded by plastic shopping bags. Katie started to walk across to her, but the receptionist called out, 'Superintendent!' and when Katie turned around, she pointed with her ball pen toward a tall attenuated figure standing in the far corner, staring at her own reflection in the window.

Katie approached her. Her hair was ash blond, cut very short and slashed back with gel. She wore a long black leather overcoat, calf length, with its collar turned up, and black leather high-heeled boots, which made her seem even taller than she was. Katie found herself standing up very straight.

Katie said, 'I'm Detective Superintendent Katie Maguire. I understand you've got some information about Siobhan Buckley.'

The woman turned. She was probably about the same age as Katie, but her makeup gave her skin an extraordinary porcelain smoothness. She had angular, Marlene Dietrich features, with high cheekbones and feline eyes. She wore large rimless spectacles with purple-tinted lenses, above which her eyebrows had been plucked into immaculate arches. She was wearing a perfume that Katie couldn't place, but which had heavy notes of roses and vanilla. She could have been a fashion model, or an actress.

'Lucy Quinn,' she said, in a warm American accent, and held out her hand. She was wearing black leather gloves that felt eerily soft. 'I'm so glad you could spare me your time.'

'I'm very busy, as you can imagine. It would help if you got to the point.'

'I read about the Fiona Kelly case inTimemagazine, and all about those eleven skeletons that were dug up. The article said that they might have been victims of some kind of ritual sacrifice-and of course-well-that aroused my interest immediately.'

'I thought you had some information on Siobhan Buckley.'

'I'm so sorry, I should introduce myself. I don't want you thinking that I'm one of those weird women who believes in witchcraft and writes love letters to Charlie Manson. I'm a professor in comparative mythologies at the University of California at Berkeley. Scandinavian and Celtic legends, those are my specialties. I've done years of research into ancient Celtic rituals, and I really think I could help you.'

'Well, Lucy, I appreciate your offer, but we've already charged a man with murdering Fiona Kelly.'

'What about Siobhan Buckley?'

'We don't yet have any reason to think that Siobhan Buckley's disappearance is connected to Fiona