Sinéad Gogan was home, of course. “What d’yous want?” she demanded, in the doorway. She was wearing the same gray leggings from Tuesday. I recognized a grease stain on one wobbly thigh.

“We’d like a few words with you and your husband.”

“He’s out.”

Which was a pisser. Gogan was what passed for the brains of this outfit; I had been relying on him to figure out that they needed to talk to us. “That’s all right,” I said. “We can come back and talk to him later, if we need to. For now, we’ll see how much you can help us.”

“Jayden’s already told you—”

“Yeah, he has,” I said, brushing past her and heading for the sitting room, with Richie in my wake. “It’s not Jayden we’re interested in, this time. It’s you.”

“Why?”

Jayden was sitting on the floor again, shooting zombies. He said promptly, “I’m off sick.”

“Switch that off,” I told him, making myself comfortable in one of the armchairs. Richie took the other one. Jayden made a disgusted face, but when I pointed at the controller and snapped my fingers, he did as he was told. “Your mother’s got something to tell us.”

Sinéad stayed in the doorway. “I don’t.”

“Sure you do. You’ve been keeping something back ever since we first walked in here. Today is when you come clean. What was it, Mrs. Gogan? Something you saw? Heard? What?”

“I don’t know anything about that fella. I never even seen him.”

“That’s not what I asked you. I don’t care if it’s got nothing to do with that fella, or any fella; I want to hear it anyway. Sit down.”

I saw Sinéad consider going into a don’t-give-me-orders-in-my-own-house routine, but I gave her a stare that said this would be a very bad idea. In the end she rolled her eyes and plumped down on the sofa, which groaned. “I’ve to get Baby up in a minute. And I don’t know anything that’s got to do with anything. OK?”

“You don’t get to decide that. The way it works is, you tell us what you know; we figure out how it’s relevant. That’s why we’re the ones with the badges. So let’s go.”

She sighed noisily. “I. Don’t. Know. Anything. What am I supposed to say?”

I said, “Just how stupid are you?”

Sinéad’s face turned uglier and she opened her mouth to hit me with some stale drivel about respect, but I kept slamming the words at her till she shut it again. “You make me want to puke. What the hell do you think we’re investigating? Shoplifting? Littering? This is a murder case. Multiple murder. How has that not sunk into your thick head?”

“Don’t you call me—”

“Tell me something, Mrs. Gogan. I’m curious. What kind of scum lets a kid-killer walk away because she doesn’t like cops? Just how far below human do you have to be, to think that’s OK?”

Sinéad snapped, “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”