“She admitted to sharpening the kitchen knife the day before too,” Kilmartin observed.

Minogue turned from the window. Kilmartin’s face was slack, eyes glassily fixed on the horizon. He too had been hypnotized by the sea. The tide brought ripples and gentle swells obliquely by the train. Minogue felt confused, pleased to be confused, by the motion of the train. What was it about trains that made a body feel removed from the local world?

“Look, Jimmy. She may not have consciously prepared for any crime. It may have been unthinkable, don’t you see, so another side to her took over.”

“Mad, you mean. She can’t plead that.”

Minogue refused to be drawn.

“She woke up in the middle of the night and she went to the kitchen, got the knife and… Bob’s your uncle. I hope she doesn’t claim she was in a trance or something. She must have been wide awake and calculating to stick him in the heart first time. You know how it is with an amateur-they’ll break a half dozen ribs before they get near the heart. But your man was asleep so she could find her spot and… Of course she might be used to killing farm animals or that, I suppose.”

Minogue imagined the deed. Ryan still in his clothes passed out, drunk, on the bed. Snoring probably. Marguerite Ryan can’t sleep. Something wakes her up… A knife in her strong, capable hands, she plunges it-

“Then thirty-six more for good measure,” Kilmartin murmured. “Seven or eight of those alone would have killed him, too. A tough piece of work, Mrs. Ryan.”

Kilmartin turned to Minogue as the train pulled into Seapoint Station. “Plenty of muscle on her after doing all the work on the farm, I’ll bet. And Ryan in the pub all day swallowing pints. Ha ha.”

Minogue did not think it wise to let Kilmartin in on the fact that Marguerite Ryan was a heroine in the Minogue household. Even Kathleen had sided with their daughter while Minogue tried to finish his breakfast faster that he might escape further wrath. He felt more than uneasy being held answerable for patriarchy Irish-style, as Iesult put it.



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