Halfway up the stairs we began to hear voices. And at the top, we found the door to the band room was open and the room was packed, with not a spare seat to be found. The meeting was already in session, with lots of people speaking at the same time while the chairman of the town council tried to make himself heard over the din.

Jude and I slid in along the rear wall and found a spot to stand. From what I could gather, and it wasn’t easy to distinguish one voice from another, there were concerns about rising water levels, property damage, old people, insurance, animals, roads, bridges, food supplies, medical supplies and possible power outages. All perfectly legitimate concerns; the problem being that each person believed their concern should take priority.

Finally, Molloy managed to call order, and the chairman of the town council took the floor. Short and balding with a combover and a significant paunch. which his pink shirt did not entirely cover, I was familiar with the man from photo calls and exhibition openings, posed pictures in the local paper when he was usually adorned with a chain of office. He’d wisely chosen to leave the jewellery at home on this occasion.

He cleared his throat. “Now ladies and gentlemen, we have an agenda – so if we just stick to that we should cover everything, and everyone will be happy.” He rifled through his notes and began. “Item one …”

Maeve appeared beside me. I hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Everything all right?” I whispered.

“Did you get my pic?”

I nodded. “Is he alive? The snake, I mean?”

“You didn’t get the second one I sent you?”

I shook my head and she took her phone from her pocket, tapped it and passed it to me. The screen showed a photograph of an olive-green snake, about a meter long with black markings and a yellow collar.

“He’s safe in the clinic, the wee skitter, as happy as Larry. Totally unconcerned about all the trouble he’s caused.”

I handed her back the phone.

“Dozing happily in a tightly sealed tank to prevent any more escape attempts,” she added.

“Glad to hear it.” I paused, then whispered again. “What species is he?”

She grinned. “Nothing too exotic. A British grass snake – totally harmless.”

“You’re kidding? After all that.” So, the Nigerian connection was a non-runner, I thought.

“He may have inflicted the bite but he’s not our killer.”

“Did you tell Molloy?”

She nodded and was about to say something else until someone shushed us. She made a face and put the phone back in her pocket.