‘That’s right. The Riordans were going to hijack an excavator from a building site near the Blackpool Shopping Centre and then dig the ATM out of the wall of the Bank of Ireland. We were tipped off about that, yes, and we foiled it by putting the excavator out of commission, but we doubt that it was Donal Hagerty who told us. He was in Sligo at the time, and it wasn’t until five months later that he shot Michael Riordan. If he was that scared of Michael Riordan coming after him, surely he would have done it sooner.’

‘But you’re still trying to find evidence that Thomas O’Flynn was behind it?’

‘I’m determined to, Your Honour. I’m totally determined to.’

‘What about Justice Quinn? How’s that investigation coming along?’

‘Pure slow, I’m afraid. But again, I won’t let up until I find out who murdered him.’

‘You think the O’Flynns might have had something to do with that, too?’

‘I can’t be sure. Again, we have our suspicions. But it’s no use coming up in front of a judge with suspicions – even if they’re strong suspicions – as you know yourself.’

‘True,’ said Justice Connolly, and he looked at his Rolex. ‘Listen, Stephen, I think we’ve covered everything we need to. I’ll see you on Monday morning so. I had no breakfast, and I’m starving, so I’m going to find myself some lunch. Maybe you could suggest somewhere, DS Maguire?’

‘I’ve had no lunch either, Your Honour, so why don’t we go together?’

‘Sure, that sounds like a plan.’

Katie could hardly believe herself that she had invited him. She was still numb with grief from losing Conor and the shock of seeing Garrett’s incinerated body. When her previous lover, John, had died, she had wanted to do nothing for weeks but shut herself away and talk to nobody, although of course that had been impossible. But this time she felt she needed company, especially since she was having such complicated trouble at work.

More than that, she found Justice Connolly’s presence warm and reassuring. She felt that she would be able to tell him about some of her current difficulties at Anglesea Street, and that he would understand them. Her sisters and her friends in Cobh, even if they were sympathetic, wouldn’t have the first clue what she was talking about.

‘You don’t mind a five-minute scove, do you, Your Honour?’ she asked him, as they left the court office.

‘I think outside of office hours you can call me Kieran.’

‘In that case, you can call me Kathleen. Or Katie, if you like.’

‘I’d prefer to call you Katie, if that’s all right with you. I had an aunt called Kathleen, and she was a bit of a Cailleach, I’m afraid.’ By that, he meant a witch, or an old hag.