It turned out that the Father Galvin files hadn’t gone far. A couple of phone calls revealed that, as Conor had suspected, they’d been transferred to the new garda station in Templemorris. This was a stroke of luck. A friend from his training-school days, Sergeant Jennifer Leahy, was stationed there. He rang and, after the mandatory twenty questions about the Avondhu Hotel, explained what he was looking for.

‘Not a word to anyone,’ he said. ‘As far as I know, all my father’s buddies have retired, but I’d rather he didn’t get word of what I’m up to.’

‘Oo-kay,’ replied Jennifer, caution in her voice.

‘There’s nothing sinister going on, I promise. I just want to have a look at a few statements, and I don’t want to worry the old man.’

‘Which statements?’

‘There’s the snag. I won’t know until I see them.’

Eventually, they agreed that he’d call into the station the following evening. On a midweek night, there wouldn’t be many people around to ask questions.

When Conor told Sharon of his plans, her face tightened. ‘Are you sure you’re not taking it all a bit far?’

‘Maybe I am but …’ he weighed up his words before speaking again, ‘… while I’m doing this, I’m not stressing about the Burkes and the McPartlands.’

‘I don’t know that obsessing over something that happened when you were thirteen is any healthier. Did it ever occur to you that you spend too much time thinking about criminals?’

‘I’ll only be gone a few hours. Now I’m back on the road, I can drive down, have a look, and be home again before you know it.’

‘I can’t stop you, but you’ve got to think it all through. You don’t want to make things worse with your father and Ginny.’

Bruised as he was by his disagreement with Tess, Conor was determined to continue his task. Tess was so accustomed to everyone being in her thrall that she found any opposition, no matter how friendly, difficult to accept. To be fair, it was a miracle that she’d remained relatively sane. All those years of entitlement and adulation would have warped many beyond recognition.

To begin with, her appeal had been straightforward. She’d been young, tall, thin, pretty. Later, it had become more complex. There had been more beautiful women, yet somehow Conor’s stepsister had managed to turn her entire life into a show. At one point, it had been hard to find a girl over the age of twelve or a woman under eighty who hadn’t bought something or travelled somewhere in emulation of Tess Fortune. He had witnessed grown men and women go mute in her presence.