Constable O’Neill had asked him to phone her at the station. “What’s happened?” asked Daly, expecting grim news. “Nothing too serious,” she replied. “I thought you might like to know. Eliza Hughes rang earlier looking to speak to Inspector Irwin. No one else would do. When Irwin got the message, he left in a hurry. That’s all.” “Did she say where she was calling from?” “No.” “Thanks. Keep in touch if you hear anything else.” Eliza’s secret meeting with Irwin was suspicious enough to merit further investigation. Wishing he had eaten something at the wake, Daly got back into his car and drove to Washing Bay. He met her on the way, driving fast, an expression of alarm on her face. She did not appear to have noticed his car. He reversed in a lane and took off after her in a flurry of mud. As he drove in the twilight, the dark blues of the lough reasserted themselves, the pine forests lagging behind. She was following the lough shore, Daly realized, keeping off the main roads.
