That was a little slip. Maybe it’s time to stop talking so fast.

‘I made it my business to see before the tape went on. Wanted to be sure it was Connie.’

‘Touch anything?’

‘Not one damn thing.’

Goran gives me a long look, searching my eyes for the lie, which she doesn’t find, or maybe she does find it and decides to give me a little rope to tie myself up with.

‘Take a walk, but not too far. I’ll be dialling your number.’

My shoulders sag. ‘You don’t want to ask me anything useful?’

‘You want to tell me something useful?’

I leave without saying another word.

CHAPTER 5

I had a whole six months of sessions with Simon Moriarty before the medical discharge finally came through after my second tour. Twice a week I took a bus to his Dalkey practice and waved a cup of coffee under his nose until he rolled out of bed.

‘Come on, Sergeant,’ Moriarty said to me one day, with a grin that told me he knew a whole lot more about the world than I did. ‘Make it difficult for me. This is too easy, textbook stuff.’

I was lying on an oxblood leather sofa, feeling about as comfortable as a cat in the doghouse. Usually Simon lay on the sofa, but this was our last session and he was taking me to task.

‘I’m an open book, huh?’

‘A pane of glass, Sergeant. Trans-parent.’

‘Let me in on the secret, Doc. What’s my problem?’

Simon lit a thin cigar. ‘With Irish and Jews usually it’s the mother; with you it’s daddy dearest.’

I sat up, gave him a serious look. ‘Are you trying to tell me that having an abusive father leads to problems in later life? You must be some kind of genius.’

‘Hilarious, Sergeant. Hiding behind humour. Good tactic. How’s that been working out for you?’

Simon could be a pain in the arse, but he generally hit the nail on the head.

I lay down. ‘Not so good. Listen, Doc, everyone’s got problems, issues, whatever. You just get on with it, try to stay as calm as possible.’

Moriarty flicked ash from the front of his Ramones T-shirt. ‘That’s what we’re here to as-certain, Daniel. Can you stay calm? We can’t go releasing a trained murder machine into the big city if he can’t keep his talents to himself.’

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ve seen enough bloodshed.’

‘You have plans?’

‘I’m free on Tuesday and I know a nice bar.’

More ash-flicking. ‘Life plans, smartarse. With your tendencies, you need to be careful what kind of situations you put yourself in.’

‘Tendencies? You make me sound like a pervert.’