“Kevin,” she said. “How are—” and then she recognized me. Her eyes went round and she made a noise like a hiccup.

I said smoothly, “Mrs. Daly, I’m sorry to disturb you. Could we come in for a moment?”

She had a hand up to her chest. Kev had been right about the fingernails. “I don’t . . .”

Every cop knows how to get in a door past someone who’s not sure. “If I could just bring this in out of the rain,” I said, juggling the case around her. “I think it’s important for you and Mr. Daly to have a look at it.”

Kevin trailed after me, looking uncomfortable. Mrs. Daly screeched “Matt!” up the stairs without taking her eyes off us.

“Ma?” Nora came out of the front room, all grown up and wearing a dress that showed it. “Who—Jaysus. Francis?”

“In the flesh. Howya, Nora.”

“Holy God,” Nora said. Then her eyes went over my shoulder, to the stairs.

I had remembered Mr. Daly as Schwarzenegger in a cardigan, but he was on the short side of medium, a wiry, straight-backed guy with close-cut hair and a stubborn jaw. It got tighter while he examined me, taking his time. Then he told me, “We’ve got nothing to say to you.”

I cut my eyes sideways at Kevin. “Mr. Daly,” he said, fast, “we really, really need to show you something.”

“You can show us anything you like. Your brother needs to get out of my house.”

“No, I know, and he wouldn’t have come, only we didn’t have a choice, honest to God. This is important. Seriously. Could we not . . . ? Please?”

He was perfect, shuffling his feet and shoving his floppy fringe out of his eyes, all embarrassed and clumsy and urgent; kicking him out would have been like kicking a big fluffy sheepdog. No wonder the kid was in sales. “We wouldn’t bother you,” he added humbly, for good measure, “only that we don’t know what else to do. Just five minutes?”

After a moment, Mr. Daly gave a stiff, reluctant nod. I would have paid good money for a blow-up Kevin doll that I could carry around in the back of my car and whip out in emergencies.