The house had seen more than its fair share of visitors. Faces Darryl hardly knew wanted to offer sympathy, sit with Gail for a while and feed on her grief. Her closest friends had become like bodyguards, fending off curious neighbors and rubberneckers. The landline rang dozens of times a day, and Gail’s mobile was always needing to be recharged.

Darryl had tried his best to stay out of it, retreating to his room. He could hear the voices in the living room and kitchen, and often they tried offering him tea and beer and a sandwich, tapping on his door and calling out to him. And when everyone had departed for the day, the house felt cold and empty, Joseph and Cal walking on tiptoe so as not to disturb their mother, doing homework without needing reminding, making their own dinner if necessary. When Darryl was required elsewhere, he would tell them: “You’re in charge. Anything urgent, phone me.”

Frank Hammell had asked him if he needed time off, but he had shaken his head.

“Cops are useless, Darryl,” Hammell had said. “But I’ve got feelers out. We’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or the other…”

Outside the house, Darryl paused to examine the sky overhead. You never saw many stars—too much light pollution. There was the beginning of an overnight frost on the pavement and the car windscreens. Plenty of people still awake—TVs glowing from living room windows; some music from a distant party; a dog barking, desperate to be allowed back indoors. Darryl walked to the corner and shook the hand of the man standing there.

“I thought we might walk,” Cafferty said. “Not far—just to stop us freezing our backsides off.”

“Sure,” Darryl said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“We’ve not met before, have we?” Cafferty asked him.

“No.”

“It’s just that sometimes I forget a face, and that looks like a lack of respect next time I see the person.” He glanced towards the young man. “Don’t want that happening between us, Darryl.”

“Okay, Mr. Cafferty.”

“How long have you been working for Frank?”

“A while.”

“He used to work for me, you know.”

“Your name’s been mentioned.”

“Probably not with any great enthusiasm.” A taxi rumbled past, driver’s-side window down, seeking an address. Cafferty watched it, as did Darryl.

“Can’t be too careful, eh?” the older man said with a thin smile. Then: “I should have said at the start, I’m sorry about your sister. Anything I can do to help, you only have to ask.”

“Thanks.”

“Frank doesn’t need to know—it can be between us. If that’s okay with you, Darryl.” Cafferty seemed to study the young man. “I met your dad a few times, back in the day.”

“Really?”

“Just in the pub, you know. He was friends with Frank.”

“Aye, he was.”

“But then they say love’s no respecter of friendship.” Cafferty turned a corner and Darryl realized they were doing a little circuit that would bring them back to his house. “I like that you kept your dad’s surname,” Cafferty was saying. “Are you still in touch with him?”