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‘Can I ask what information you wanted concerning Grainne Riordan?’ Morrison asked in a casual tone.

‘I told you, I wanted to find out exactly what drugs she was taking at the time her mother was killed.  For some reason no blood-tests were made in the hospital when she was admitted, and I thought it might be important to establish exactly what she was on before that night.  You might have heard of Extreme Substance Abuse Disorder?’

He smiled without
humor, revealing the nicotine-stained yellow teeth of a heavy smoker, ‘I have, actually.  And you thought perhaps the police hadn’t bothered checking?  Or didn’t think of it?  Well, we did, Miss Bennett.  We talked to some of her friends and they told us that up to that particular night she was clean.  The speedball she took the night her mother died were the first drugs she had touched in weeks.’  And he added, with the hint of a sneer, ‘Ever since her latest stint in an expensive Rehab clinic, in fact.  Apparently she was trying to clean up her act.  I guess she fell off the wagon pretty spectacularly.’

Kate found herself disliking him for his open distas
te for the girl she was trying to help, to say nothing of his silent, blank-eyed assistant, sitting there like a lump on a log, saying nothing but absorbing everything, jotting away silently into her notebook.  And her voice sharpened as she said, ‘I see.  Well, thanks for clearing that up.  But if you haven’t come here about Grainne Riordan, exactly what
did
you come here for?’

Morrison was silent for a moment and then said reflectively, ‘Oddly enough, there is a connection with t
he Riordan girl.  I’m investigating the suspicious death of a small-time pusher and junkie named Jimmy Shiels, and if I remember correctly he was Grainne’s lover, and main supplier, before her breakdown.  Though when I spoke to them her friends claimed she had ditched him months before, along with the hard drugs.’

Kate was gaping
at him in surprise, ‘That’s the guy I was going to talk to you about!  The one whose name I got from…’  She paused for a moment, ‘Suspicious death?  You don’t mean
murder?’

He nodded,
his
sharp little eyes fixed intently on hers.

Kate frowned and bit her lower lip, ‘So why did you come here?  What has this Shiels fellow got to do with me?’

Morrison’s eyes were still fixed on her face as he said dryly, ‘I was rather hoping you might tell
me
that, Miss Bennett.’

Kate had had enough of him
, and there was more than a trace of anger in her voice as she snapped, ‘Well, I can’t!  I’ve never met him, never even heard the name before today.’

‘Yet you were trying to find out his name from Grainne’s father?’ suggested Morrison.  Kate had no reply to this and t
he two police officers sat eyeing her blankly without saying another word, making it clear they didn’t believe her.  Mind you, all policemen evince that air when taking statements; either it comes from being lied to so much, or it’s something they’re taught in basic training.  Either way it annoyed her and she said, ‘Why would you think I know anything about this man?  Or his death?’

Morrison pursed his lips and thought before replying, ‘Shiels was knifed to death last night, an
d his body was thrown into the canal up near Dolphin’s Barn.  There’s no great surprise there, to be honest.  Drug-pushers have a habit of dying suddenly, for one reason or another, particularly when they use as much of their own merchandise as Jimmy did.  Potential suspects, too, would be legion with someone like him.  What brought us here to you is the fact that when we fished him out we found a piece of paper in his pocket with your name and address on it.’

Kate simply stared at him bl
ankly for a moment, baffled.  After a long silence her brain threw up a possible explanation and she said, ‘I was burgled on Tuesday night.  If he was a thief as well as a pusher perhaps he was the guy who robbed me.  My briefcase was stolen and that had my name
on
it, and probably my address somewhere
in
it.’

Morrison quietly considered this.  ‘Did you report this burglary?’

Kate nodded, ‘My neighbor dialed 999 and two policemen came and took a statement that night.  They took fingerprints too.  And I rang Blackrock station the next day with a list of what had been taken.  They should have a record of my call.’

‘But even if Shiels was the one who robbed you, why should he have your name and number on a piece of paper? 
After
the robbery, I mean.  Why would he keep it?’

Kate shrugged, ‘How should I know?  Maybe he just forgot it was there, forgot to throw it away.  You said he was a junkie, after all, so I doubt if he was a likely candidate
for Mastermind.’

‘No.  But on the other hand, if all criminals were as stupid as t
hat,’ said Morrison with a flash of dry humour, ‘I’d soon be out of a job.  Unless he planned to ransom back some of your belongings to you; it’s not unknown.  Victims will usually pay more than fences, especially for stuff with sentimental rather than intrinsic value.’  He thought for a moment, ‘I’ll ring Blackrock station and see if they had any luck matching the prints from the crime scene.’

He
looked around the ‘crime scene’ without much interest before giving a small smile and saying, ‘Though I’m hoping they won’t match.  If the explanation is that simple I’ll be back to square one.’

Kate didn’t much like the implication of this and said
tartly, ‘You’re back to square one anyway, because I know nothing about him or his death!  Besides, surely the local Gardai would have already checked any prints with Central Records when they were investigating my break-in?’

‘Mmm.  But, on the other hand, processing prints takes time and money, and if you don’t mind me saying so, burglaries where no one w
as hurt and little of value taken would be at the bottom of our priority list.  Fact of life, I’m afraid.  Crime stats are through the roof these days, and we have only limited resources, you know.’

Kate didn’t much care for the
little of value
bit either, but knew that he was right.  She also guessed, from his chatty tone, that whatever he had previously suspected, he no longer thought that Jimmy Shiels’ death was anything to do with her.  Which brought a touch of relief; even with a clear conscience she didn’t much fancy being on this man’s hit list.

‘Do you have a photo o
f Shiels?’ she asked, struck by a sudden thought.

Morrison raised his eyebrows and produced a photograph so quickly she knew he had been about to show it to her anyway.  She studied it intently for several moments. 
The face was youngish and clean shaven, with brown hair and sullen eyes.  He was very thin and rough looking, with a drug-user’s typically bad skin and battered appearance, but he was certainly nothing out of the ordinary.  It
could
have been the man she had seen outside her flat but she couldn’t swear to it.

She sighed and handed back the photo, ‘Sorry, it doesn’t really ring any bells.  He wasn’t wearing jeans and a black jacket when he was killed, was he?’

Again the little smile as he replied,
‘All
these people wear jeans and black leather jackets.  It’s like a uniform.  Either that or tracksuits and hoodies.  Why do you ask?’

She told him about the mystery caller, and what he had shouted through the door.  When she had finished he said, ‘And you called the police on that occasion too?’

Kate nodded, ‘Yes.  Or at least, Michael Riordan did.  Why?’

‘Because if God is smiling on
us
,
’ he replied humorously, ‘They might have picked up Jimmy Shiels in this vicinity that night.  Which would explain why he had your name and address on him.  Though I can’t imagine what he would have to say to you, whether he burgled you or not.  Unless he was trying to sell you back your stuff in
person
, which would have been a bit of a cheek.  Though I wouldn’t put it past the miserable little rat.  You’re quite sure it isn’t him in the photo?’

‘It could be; I really didn’t get a close loo
k at him.’

He sighed
in disappointment and said, ‘I’ll make some enquiries with the local Garda, see if anything shakes loose.  But I can’t say I hold out much hope.’  He smiled suddenly, his
face filling with a warmth that made her feel better disposed towards him, and said, ‘I have to say I never really thought you had anything to do with Jimmy’s life in the first place, much less his death.’  But in that he was, of course, wrong.

He got to his feet, ‘We used his death as an excuse to search his flat and turned up all sorts of stuff, some of which could be yours.  I’ll have someone ring you with a list of everything we recovered.  But don’t get your hopes up.  All burglars shift their takings quickly, and junkies quickest of all, to feed their habits.  And it might not hav
e been him who robbed you anyway.  But you never know your luck.’  He paused to give her one last penetrating look, ‘Whether he robbed you or not, it’s an odd coincidence that you both knew Grainne.’  He opened his mouth as if to continue but then changed his mind and said instead, ‘Anyway, if you think of anything that might help us, and I do mean
anything,
give me a ring.’

He
handed her his card and she showed them both out of her flat with a strange feeling of unreality, wondering as she shut the door just what this Shiels guy could have wanted with her. 
Was
he her burglar, or was he simply trying to re-establish contact with Grainne through her, since Riordan had supposedly paid him to get lost?  She shook her head in bafflement; just what had she gotten into when she agreed to counsel Grainne Riordan?
 
The safe, placid little life she had been trying to build had been turned upside down to such an extent that she had detectives calling to her door questioning her about murders!  And worst of all, it hadn’t even seemed all that
strange
to her!  She was about to go into the kitchen and prepare something to eat when another thought struck her; how much more was to come?  Just what
else
had she let herself in for?

    Kate never got round to ringing Michael back that day, though she had a bone to pick with him as to why he claimed he had spoken to Morrison when he clearly hadn’t.  Instead she spent the evening writing up a case history on Grainne, covering everything that had been done so far by Sarah McGrath, her own thoughts and theories, and a rough schedule of what she hoped to achieve over the coming months.  This work took several hours but when it was finally complete Kate, tired but satisfied, went to bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

T
he next day she awoke fully refreshed and ready for anything.  It being a Saturday she was able to luxuriate for a while in a hot bath before finally throwing on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt.  She considered breakfast but, ever weight-conscious, reluctantly decided against it, making do with just coffee instead.  She sat down in her little kitchen to drink it, wondering what to do first.  She had some work to do for University, preparing the following week’s lectures and the next Course Work Assignment, but quite frankly the mere thought of it made her stomach sink.  And the Night Class lecture! 
Shit
!  She had forgotten all about that!  She had night classes every Monday evening, and had nothing ready for her part-time students either.

Tomorrow,
she thought firmly,
I’ll go in to the office tomorrow and do it all then. 
She sighed; even in her head it sounded like a lie.  The chances of her going in to work on a Sunday were minimal at best.  And she couldn’t even pretend to herself that she would perform all these tasks at home because, of course, she no longer had a computer.  And it was once again borne home to her that she just wasn’t interested in her students, or the courses she was trying to teach.  Right now she was only interested in Grainne Riordan’s problems, and what had caused them.  And nothing else.  But surely she couldn’t go and see her again so soon?  Especially after what she had said to Trevor?  His proposed one session a week would never have flown but she had to keep
some
distance; she couldn’t hound the girl every single day.  Besides, she thought Grainne was in the middle of a mini-crisis, and her presence might do more harm than good.  It might be best to leave
that
duty until the next day, too.

Kate smiled to herself; the way things were going th
e next day would be her busiest Sunday ever. 
Yeah, and just look at that pig whizzing gracefully through the sky!
  Her vacillation was interrupted by the phone ringing, and although she was starting to hate the sound of the thing she went out to the hall and answered it.

‘Are you Kate Bennett?’  It was a woman’s voice, young and well
modulated and distinctly middle-class in origin.

‘Yes, who’s speaking?’

‘Madelyn Shiels.’