“None other. There’s a body lying out on the beach in Killiney. Washed up a half an hour ago. Dalkey station called about it. They have men there now.”

“Are they sure it’s not somebody sunbathing, now?” Kilmartin winked. He shot a stage glance at the grey sky over the rooftops outside his window.

Eilis blinked once and met Minogue’s eyes for a moment.“It seems unlikely. The person in question was shot in the head several times.”

At Minogue’s suggestion, Kilmartin had Detective Seamus Hoey drop them at Pearse Station. Shea Hoey showed no sign of surprise at being told to drive out to Killiney and meet the two officers there.

The regular, clean, fast service on the new Dublin Area Rapid Transit-the DART-trains still surprised and pleased Dubliners. Its efficiency silenced all but the irredeemable cynics, those inhabitants of the city who enjoyed Dublin the more for being able to find daily reminders of its chaos and decrepitude. Kilmartin had brought a posse of comments aboard the train.

“There’s no name for it though, is there?”

“For what?”

“Killing your husband. ‘Husbandicide’?”

“Try patriarchicide,” Minogue observed. The train hummed out from Ballsbridge Station. “Iesult reminds me about patriarchy every now and then. She’s a feminist.”

“Mmmm.” Kilmartin rubbed his nose.

“She frightens the daylights out of me half the time. I don’t know what she’ll do next.”

“Is she still with that odd fella?”

“Pat the Brain? She is still keen on him. I must say, I like him. He’s a droll character.”

Kilmartin grunted and looked out the window. The bay, a leaden sheet spread out to Howth, drew suddenly next to the railway line. Dublin Bay was darker than the sky, itself seamless and low.