‘Large Power’s,’ he mouthed.

‘Can we talk somewhere quietly for a minute?’ Boyle inquired, a pudgy hand reaching for the golden glass proffered from behind the counter by Tom.

Swallow led the way up the stairs to the parlour. Away from the hubbub and smoke of the bar, Boyle seemed to deflate. He lowered himself into an armchair and gulped at his whiskey.

‘Somethin’ I came across, Swalla’. Information that could be good on yer case. The murder of Nellie Byrne, or Moyles, or whatever she called herself.’

Swallow nodded.

‘It’ll be very welcome, superintendent, if you have something. What can you tell me?’

Boyle gulped again at his whiskey.

‘This is solid, Swalla’. I’m tellin’ you. I was down in Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street earlier, at the invitation of certain friends, as you’ll understand. It bein’ Stephen’s Night, there was a fair bit o’ drink goin’ down. Tongues loosened a bit. An’ as you know, I’m skilled at gettin’ important information outta otherwise unwillin’ subjects. Wan o’ the company, I won’t say who, told me that Nellie Byrne or Moyles had a bank book, or a post office book, I don’t know which, givin’ her access to a bit o’ money that Ces Downes left behind to her, be way of thanks for lookin’ after her in her closin’ days. That’s why she was killed. Nothin’ to do with clients in her trade. Somewan wanted the book. Somewan who knew the story and wanted to get their paws on the cash, believin’ they had a claim to it.’

‘Jesus,’ Swallow exclaimed. ‘It’d make sense all right. None of her regular clients was anywhere near the murder scene. And her room was tossed in a complete mess.’

‘That’s what I’m tellin’ ye, Swallow.’ Boyle drained the last of his Power’s. ‘It musta been someone in Ces’s organisation. I don’t know who. I can only tell ye what I was told tonight.’

He eyed his empty glass ruefully. Swallow went to the sideboard and produced a bottle of Tullamore.

‘Try this, superintendent.’ He poured a generous measure for Boyle and another for himself.

‘Good luck.’ He raised his glass. ‘Fair dues to you. Leave it to me. And here’s to the night that’s in it.’

Thursday December 27th, 1888

Chapter 26

‘I need to have another talk with Charlie Vanucchi, throw everything we have at him, and tell him that unless he can give us the killer of Nellie Byrne, he’s in the shit—if you’ll pardon my expression, chief.’

Mallon nodded at Swallow’s suggestion. Swallow had told him about his conversation with Vanucchi after the girl’s funeral in Glasnevin and the intelligence picked up by ‘Duck’ Boyle about the money she had supposedly inherited from Ces Downes.