“No, I know. I’m sorry to just show up unexpectedly. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure, sure. I mean, I’m just doing my nails, but if you don’t mind that . . .” Evelyn waggled a hand in Carrie’s direction, then led her into a warm little kitchen. Nail polish remover, cotton pads, and nail polish were all laid out on the table. Evelyn sat down and picked up the polish.

“Actually, do you mind if I read something to you before we start?” Carrie pulled a piece of card from her back pocket and showed it to Evelyn. “Sorry, I’m just starting out as a garda. We’re supposed to read these at the beginning of every interview. I should have done it last time we talked, too—my supervisor gave me a bit of a going-over afterward.”

“Oh, was he your supervisor? That tall guy? I wondered why he didn’t say much.”

“He’s not the chatty type, unless he’s giving me a lecture on process and procedure.” Carrie flashed a rueful smile. She read the caution from the card in the tone of one reciting a lesson. “You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence.”

Evelyn looked amused. “That’s what you have to say? It must be very hard to get suspects to confess if you say that. Wouldn’t it put people on their guard?”

Carrie sighed as she put the card away in her back pocket. “It does. But, you know, it’s supposed to, really. There are a lot of rules about talking to people these days. We’re supposed to just put all our cards on the table—no messing around.”

Evelyn laughed. “Not like the good old days, you mean?”

Carrie gave a pained smile. “I suppose.” She watched as Evelyn unscrewed a bottle of dark-red polish, withdrew the brush, tapped off a bit of excess polish, and painted her first fingernail in one swift, skillful stroke.

“So, what’s up?” Evelyn said.

“I wanted to come and talk to you, woman to woman. There have been some developments in the Robert Collins case. It seems like some of the evidence—well, it doesn’t quite stack up. And anyway, I wanted to talk to you myself because men don’t always get it, you know the way.”

“Sure,” Evelyn said, her brow slightly furrowed.

“I was wondering if you ever told Robert’s side of what happened in the bar that night?”

“No.”

“See, that’s not right. They shouldn’t have kept things from you. You’re right in the middle of this case. It doesn’t make sense to be keeping secrets.”

The furrow on Evelyn’s brow deepened. “What did he say?”

“Well, he says he did fight with Laura that night, but not about breaking up. According to Robert, he was going to go on a lads’ holiday to Ibiza with his friends, and Laura didn’t want him to go. He says she was drunk and loud, and when he wanted to leave, she held on to his wrist, and when he pulled away, she fell over because she was off balance. And a bit drunk, you know? He says he helped her up, and then he left because he’d just had enough.”