Then almost on cue, the door opened, and Jude Burns came in with two young women, one with a toddler on her hip. They shook out two large golfing umbrellas and placed them in the bucket left by the door for just that purpose.

I hadn’t seen the daughters clearly until now. One was blonde, and I recognized her as the cyclist I’d seen the first day calling for the spider tie that had almost hit me. The other had wild brown hair sticking up in all directions, reminiscent of a young Helena Bonham Carter.

“Jesus, that’s some hairdo,” Maeve remarked as she took another sip of her coffee.

We watched as the two women grabbed the one table that had just come free. It was just to the right of the fire, prime position on a day like today. Jude said something to them and approached the counter.

“I’d better run, I’ll see you later,” Maeve said hurriedly, nodding a hello at him on her way out.

Jude greeted me with a smile and placed his huge hands on the bar. “We’ve just been down at the Garda Station giving statements. Not that we could tell them very much.”

“I’m sure you did your best.”

“We tried.” He went on, “Unfortunately, we still can’t leave. The cycle isn’t going ahead, of course – it wouldn’t have anyway with the weather, but now we can’t get home because of the roads.”

I looked around me at the crowded pub. “You’re not alone there. At least you have beds – there are some here who might be sleeping on floors, people who can’t get back to Derry or Buncrana.”

Jude nodded slowly. “True. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I’m sure it’s a right pain in the arse having us here, taking up beds. People will be glad to see the back of us.”

I disagreed. “I think people just feel bad for you, bad that what happened, happened here.”

He clicked his teeth and looked away. “Could have been anywhere.”

I said nothing, surprised again by his almost complete callous lack of interest, in the murder of someone he knew. I didn’t particularly know Jude, but it did seem at odds with the rest of his personality.

He noticed my response and shrugged. “I know it sounds cold. But the truth is that Bob Jameson made enemies. The guards will have their work cut out trying to work out what happened to him.”

He was right about that. “Looks like it. Not many people are likely to have seen something at Mamore on a dirty night like that.”

“Mamore?” he echoed. “That’s the name of the place he was found?”

I nodded. “Mamore Gap. It’s a fairly spectacular spot.”

He breathed in. “Not really the attention your lovely peninsula needs. Sorry we brought it on you.”