But why the wall of silence about it? In public at least. The snake comment was anonymous. Even Marina had to have her story forced out of her. Were people embarrassed to speak out? To admit they had been conned? Or were they afraid? Trapped? Once they were resident in a Jameson Grace Home there was nowhere for them to go if they’d parted with all their assets.

I’d seen older clients, frightened and abused, often by their own relatives. Sometimes it was pride that prevented them from speaking out and sometimes they were afraid to tell anyone what was happening and too vulnerable to stand up for themselves. Which was why I firmly believed that older people needed advocates.

Bob Jameson had been getting away with it for a long time, but from what Molloy had said, the authorities were finally closing in. Presumably that had been why he was planning to leave. Was the money secreted wherever he was going? Whatever the answers were, the questions certainly broadened the range of suspects for the man’s murder. And I needed to speak to Molloy.

I walked quickly past the office, hoping Leah wasn’t looking out the window waiting to reel me in. In the Garda Station Molloy and McFadden were both there. McFadden was behind the counter doing some paperwork while Molloy was just finishing a call.

“Okay, thanks,” he said. “I’ll let them know.” He raised his eyebrows when he saw me and, when he put the phone down, he announced, “The body is being released, so the family can take him home and have a burial at least, or cremation or whatever.”

“And leave, presumably?” I said, leaning my elbows on the counter.

“Well yes, leave Inishowen, not the country. They’re still part of a murder investigation.”

I told him everything that Marina had just told me.

“I’ll pass all of that on,” he said with a nod. “The case will end up in the hands of the NBCI now, since we haven’t managed to make any progress. Especially since there are suspects from all over the country.” He sighed. “It looks like we failed on this one.”

“We did kind of have our hands full, Sarge,” McFadden said, without looking up from whatever he was doing.

The phone rang again, and this time it was McFadden who answered it. His brow furrowed as he listened to the caller and then he passed the handset to Molloy. “It’s the hospital. Something’s happened. I can’t catch what the matron is saying. She sounds in a bit of a panic.”

Molloy frowned as he took the phone. “Hello?”

I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Molloy’s response was immediate and unhesitating. “I’ll be there straight away.” He put the phone down and looked at me. “Do you want to come? You might be able to help.”