“We can try the stables,” Darcy said. “Someone might still be working there. Or we can see who we can find in the village.”

We rounded the corner before the castle and a constable stepped out from behind the hedge, holding up a hand for us to stop.

“I’m sorry, sir, but nobody is allowed this way at the moment. Can you please go around?”

“I happen to live here,” Darcy said. “I’m Lord Kilhenny’s son and these are my friends.”

The constable frowned, considering this. “I was told nobody was to pass,” he said.

“No newspaper reporters or gawkers or onlookers,” Darcy said. “But I am actually living at the lodge and we’re bringing back food for my father. You can’t stop me.”

The constable was looking clearly uncomfortable now. “We’ll have to get an okay from one of my superiors, sir,” he said, rolling his r’s with the strongest Irish brogue. “I’m just obeying orders as they were put to me.”

“And where would we find one of your superiors?” Darcy snapped, his patience wearing thin, I could tell. “Back in Dublin?”

“Oh no, sir. Chief Inspector Callahan is up at the castle right now.”

“Then may we drive up to the castle to find him?”

Again the wrinkled brow. “I’m not sure about that, sir. It’s my belief that nobody is allowed onto the castle grounds. It’s a crime scene, isn’t it? A murder scene.” He sounded very excited to be saying this.

“Constable, I’m not going to sit in this motorcar while we freeze to death and get buried under feet of snow,” Darcy said. “And I need to speak with Chief Inspector Callahan anyway. I’ll take my chances.” And he drove right past the worried-looking constable and up to the castle gate.

I noticed that nobody was working at the dig. It was covered in tarpaulins on which puddles had collected. The gates, for once, were open and a black police vehicle was parked just inside. A driver stood beside this, looking miserable in the freezing conditions.

“We need a word with the inspector,” Darcy said. “Is he up at the castle?”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied. “But you’re not allowed to—”

Darcy had already driven past him, up the driveway, and drew up at the front entrance. Another Garda constable was stationed there and came rushing down to intercept us.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I’m Darcy O’Mara. This is my family home and I want a word with the inspector,” Darcy said. “Please go and fetch him if you won’t let us in.”

“Very good, sir.” The young man looked scared. “Can you tell me what this is about?”