‘No,’ I said. ‘There is another possibility. You could pursue a civil case; in other words, a claim for damages for the loss you’ve suffered, though any case would be extremely difficult for all sorts of reasons. But there’s a lower standard of proof in a civil case. It’s called “the balance of probabilities”, rather than “reasonable doubt”, as it would be in a criminal case. That helps.

‘Even so, it would be nearly impossible to bring it home,’ I continued. ‘To succeed we’d need evidence – a lot more than Deirdre’s mention of the Academy in her note.’

‘I don’t know,’ Ann said.

‘It wouldn’t be easy. We’d have a huge hill to climb in proving the link between Gill and Deirdre’s death – proving that he caused it, I mean. It’s not that expensive to issue proceedings, though costs climb very quickly. To start, we’d need to have a stateable case.’

‘I’m not sure I’d be interested in taking any case, when most likely it’s hopeless,’ she said. ‘Anyway Deirdre never wanted the law involved. And I don’t know how this turned into a case against Jeremy Gill. I don’t know how it turned into a case at all.’

Ann was right. The impetus was coming from me. And if Sean’s main reason for contacting me had been to find an excuse for him to have a link with Deirdre, why did I have to do anything? Any action would, in all likelihood, never get to trial. Gill had enough money to employ an army of lawyers who could tie us up in forensic knots for years to come. But Deirdre Carney was my sister. And she hadn’t died of cancer, or in an accident. Someone was to blame.

Still, I couldn’t run an investigation, or issue proceedings, without the Carneys. As her parents, they had the necessary legal and moral standing. I was sure Sean would support my efforts. It was Ann I had to convince. I felt myself managing her, knew how it would go. I’d release information in pieces, and guide – manipulate – her towards the decision I wanted. A part of me squirmed at what I was doing; another part, the part I liked less, didn’t care.