There was no talk in the car. Minogue stared out the front window all the way to Vincent’s Hospital. Cohen had his hand under Fine’s arm when they stepped from the car.

Minogue heard Hoey’s ‘Jases’ under his breath before he himself saw Kilmartin and God Almighty, Garda Commissioner Lally, in the hall. God Almighty was in a civvy suit. Kilmartin danced attendance on him, seconding his nod to Minogue before they advanced to meet Fine. Minogue saw Kilmartin’s signal to stay back. The Commissioner took Fine’s hand. Fine nodded but seemed dazed. He did not look at any of the policemen’s faces. Cohen seemed to be trying to get closer to Fine, his hand firm under Fine’s elbow now. The Commissioner’s head bent close to Fine’s and Minogue heard “condolences… family… sincere… outrage…” Kilmartin followed with a briefer handshake. Minogue heard an “everything possible…” at the end of Kilmartin’s whisper.

Minogue went to the toilet. He took his time washing his hands. He washed his face then, and checked that his hairline had not scampered back another inch or two since that morning. Then he stooped and took a drink from the tap. He recalled the doctor kneeling by the body on the beach, shaking his thermometer, and shivered at the commonplace indignity of death. Kilmartin barrelled into the toilet just as Minogue was ready to take more stock of the face looking back at him from the mirror. Kilmartin stepped to the urinal and fumbled.

“That’s the boy, all right. At least we got that part right.”

“Did he give God Almighty an earful about not hearing it from the Gardai first?” asked Minogue.

“No he didn’t. Relief all around, let me tell you. Jases, I would have given out the pay about that if I were him.”

“I’ll wait outside,” said Minogue.

“Don’t be running off on me now, do you hear me, Matt? God Almighty wants to see the pair of us after you’ve seen Fine home.”

Minogue did not try to hide his unease.