‘Sure, everybody around here knows where Vincent lives, Inspector. I’m going to take us the scenic route, though. There’s a quicker road to Carney’s but all it needs is a centimetre of rain and the thing floods.’

‘You’re from the area, are you?’

‘Born and raised. Had to emigrate to Britain for a while to get work. I came back here when the Hollands were advertising jobs in the area. I was looking for a way to come home. You miss the place, you know. I’m living in the house my grandfather grew up in. It’s the way it should be.’

‘I’m a home bird myself,’ the inspector said. They were driving down a narrow road under a fairytale canopy of intertwining trees. Every Irish generation had been cursed by emigration and Tom knew that the country became greener and more beautiful the further away her children were forced to move. His family had been very lucky in that regard. So far.

‘When you say everybody knows where Vincent lives, I assume you mean he has a reputation.’

The inspector glanced at their driver. He had sideburns, giving him an Elvis-like profile, especially with his lip as it was now, raised at the corner in disdain.

‘Yep. That’s putting it mildly.’

‘But he’s harmless, surely?’ Tom decided to try Sergeant Healy’s tack.

Charlie threw him a sharp glance.

‘Who told you that?’

‘Just heard it on the grapevine.’

‘You heard wrong. He might be a bit touched, God love him, but he’s not a gentle soul. Vincent is a dirty little bastard. Women aren’t safe around him. He’s barred from every pub in town for harassing female customers. The man is a menace. I wouldn’t want any girl of mine left alone with him.’

The inspector looked over his shoulder and met Ray’s eye. Their driver had no axe to grind with Vincent Carney. He was just an ordinary local man and what he was telling them was a far cry from Bart Healy’s account. Why had the good sergeant spun a different line?

‘There are rumours,’ Charlie continued, ‘going about the village.’

‘Concerning?’

‘Carney and Fiona Holland. Apparently he gave her some grief last year. And now she’s gone missing and all …’

‘Has he always lived around here?’ Tom asked, neatly side-stepping the loaded statement. Their driver was fishing for gossip, but he wouldn’t get it from them.

‘He’s from here, but he comes and goes.’

‘Does he work?’

‘Not that I know of. Not regular work, in any case. He might have something on the side, cash in hand, that sort of thing.’

They drove on for another few minutes, the inspector mulling over what sort of casual work Carney could be doing that would lend itself to travelling. Taxi driving was a clear contender.