'I ... I don't know.'

'You don't know? What do you mean, you don't know!' McEvoy exploded. 'He's the prime suspect for four murders! For fuck's sake! He's killed another person while you've been playing games. You know that, don't you? He burnt the poor bastard to death.'

'I ... I got the impression that DI Deegan knew where he was,' Grainger said, trying to deflect McEvoy's wrath.

'He knew where he was?' McEvoy repeated. 'How the hell did he know where he was? Did you have a surveillance team on Brady?'

'I ... I don't know. I didn't know about one. Not that ...' Grainger tailed off.

'Jesus Christ! I'm on my way in to Harcourt Street. Do not tell Deegan I'm on my way. I want to hear all this straight from the horse's mouth and I don't want him primed. You understand? If you mess with me, Simon, you'll be in deeper shit than you already are.' He ended the call.

Fuckin' Charlie Deegan flying solo; trying to bathe himself in glory playing God with people's lives for the sake of easing up the greasy pole a little faster than he would have otherwise. Well his scheming was going to come back and haunt him now. He was going to need all his big-shot friends to save him after McEvoy had finished with him.

Five minutes later his mobile phone rang.

'Yes?' he snapped as way of a greeting.

'Colm, it's your mother, we're coming up to Dublin.'

'What?' McEvoy said, trying to shift his mind away from Deegan and pulling to a stop.

'I said we're coming up to Dublin. Your father is driving us down once we're packed. I've spoken to Caroline and she says you're not coping, that she's having to look after Gemma while you're chasing that lunatic. And well, she and Jimmy are both working and so I said we'd come and help. We're coming down at the weekend in any case, so it's not like we're making a trip that we wouldn't have.'

'I'm coping just fine. There's no need for you to come up.'

'I've seen you on television, Colm. You look terrible. You need a decent meal.'

'Look, I can't talk to you right now, Mam. I'll call you later, okay?' McEvoy replied, frustrated at his mother's call. 'But I don't want you coming down tonight.' He ended the call, too angry and preoccupied to negotiate with her.

Deegan left the interview room, clearly frustrated that he'd been disturbed. He bounced through a set of fire doors to discover McEvoy waiting in the corridor.

'Can't this wait?' he snapped at McEvoy.

'No, it can't,' McEvoy stated. 'What the hell do you think you're playing at, Charlie?'

'What do you mean?' Deegan responded defiantly. 'I'm not

playing at anything! I'm investigating David Hennessey's murder.'

'You're interviewing Dermot Brady,' McEvoy said, sidling past Deegan so that he was between him and the interview room. 'You had him brought in for questioning without informing me.'

'He's helping us with our enquiries. It seems he knew Hennessey

quite well. They were good friends. I wanted to talk to him about it, find out about their relationship.'

'So why the hell wasn't I told about that?' McEvoy pressed. 'You knew that Brady's name has come up with respect to the murder of Laura Schmidt. You knew that I would be interested, but you kept it to yourself. I'm the senior investigating officer on this case, Charlie, and I need to know what the hell's happening. You should have rung it through.'

'I wanted to check it out first,' Deegan stated, shifting his weight, knowing that McEvoy was right. 'No point bothering you over nothing.' He stared at McEvoy, his mouth a tight line.

'How did you find Brady?' McEvoy asked, changing tack.

'A guard spotted him getting out of a car and pulled him in. He seemed to be expecting it.'

'Why was the guard looking for him when an alert hadn't been put out for his arrest?' McEvoy asked.

Deegan shifted his gait again and looked over his shoulder along the corridor. He needed to find his accomplice and prime him before McEvoy got to him. 'Look, what does it matter?' he tried to reason. 'We've got him in custody. That's the main thing. It's just a matter of time before he confesses. He is the sick fuck that killed our three victims. We both know that.'

'How did the guard know you were looking for Brady?' McEvoy continued. 'And how did he know where to look? Did you have Brady under surveillance?'

'What?' Deegan exclaimed, feigning surprise and hurt. 'I'm trying to help solve a murder invest ...'

'Why didn't you put out a full alert for Dermot Brady, Charlie?' McEvoy interrupted loudly, his voice becoming angry. 'You knew there was a solid connection between Dermot Brady and David Hennessey. You also knew that Brady was out at Glencree when Laura Schmidt died and that a third victim was killed last night. You knew that you needed to bring Brady in, but you didn't put out a full alert. Why?'

'If you hadn't dropped the surveillance on Brady, we could have saved the woman in the Phoenix Park,' Deegan countered heatedly, trying to fight his way out of a corner.

'That might be so,' McEvoy admitted, 'but if you'd put out an alert this morning we might have saved the old man out at Rathmoylan. I made a mistake. You failed to follow procedure. You were flying solo, Charlie.'

A look of concern flashed across Deegan's face. It was enough to tell McEvoy that he didn't know about recent developments. He didn't know about the death of Billy Mullins.

'That's right,' McEvoy hissed. 'While you were feckin' about trying to cover yourself in glory, he killed a fourth victim. Burned his house down; cremated the poor bastard. You've fucked up big time, Charlie. You're practically an accessory to murder, letting him run round when you thought you'd got him pegged for three murders.'

'That's bollocks and you know it,' Deegan spat with bravado, trying to save himself. 'You're just sore because I caught the fucker first. You're a has-been, Colm. You know it, I know it, and soon the chief super will know it.' Deegan moved to walk past McEvoy back toward the interview room.

McEvoy's arm shot out blocking his path. 'I'm sore because you fucked up. I'm in charge of this case and as of now you're suspended. You hear me? Suspended. I might be a has-been, but by the end of today I'll still have my job.'

Deegan looked over at McEvoy, anger and confusion in his eyes. He tried to brush McEvoy's arm away, but it stayed in place.

McEvoy held his stare. 'You're off the case, Charlie. There'll no doubt be a disciplinary hearing. My advice is to tell the truth and plead for forgiveness. You'll be out of here, but they might just retain you in uniform. Now get out of my sight and stay away from this investigation.'

Deegan dropped his gaze, turned on his heels and walked away. He pushed open a set of fire doors and continued along the corridor to the stairwell.

McEvoy blew out a long breath of air, trying to keep his anger and stress in check. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. A couple of yards along the corridor a door opened. A head peaked out and withdrew quickly. McEvoy clicked off the small, digital recorder in his pocket. It paid to have evidence if you were going to tangle with Deegan. He had influential friends.

McEvoy pushed open the door and entered the interview room. A detective constable standing opposite tried his best to hide his confusion, wondering why Deegan hadn't returned. McEvoy pulled out a chair and sat across from Brady.

Brady looked defeated, his eyes fixed on the table. McEvoy popped Deegan's cassette from the tape recorder, pocketed it, and replaced it with a new cassette. He started the recorder.

'Did you really think you were going to get away with it, Dermot?' he asked, his hand sneaking back into his jacket pocket, a fingernail plucking at the cigarette box. 'Did you really think you could pull off several murders when you weren't even following your own rules?'

Brady didn't respond.

'Four lives. Five if you count the unborn baby. You might have got away with it last time, but there's no way you're getting off the hook now. It'll be life, and life will mean life. They'll throw away the key. You're the most hated man in Ireland. I'll be surprised if you last a couple of months inside after what you've done.'

Brady raised his head and looked at McEvoy with dead eyes.

'Where were you this lunchtime, Dermot?'

After a long pause, Brady answered. 'I was in Trim at a meeting. A social welfare meeting. Everyone there can vouch for me. I wasn't wherever you think I was. There were 20 different people there; they'll all confirm I was there.'

'In Trim?' McEvoy repeated, nodding.

'Yes. At a meeting. It was about rural homeless services. A friend lent me a car so I could get there.'

'Despite the fact that you no longer drive,' McEvoy said sardonically. 'Couldn't bring yourself to after killing the young mother and her child.'

'Sometimes I have to,' Brady conceded. 'Usually I get a lift. There's no other way of getting to Trim.'

'You could have got a bus,' McEvoy offered.

'The bus takes forever. I'd have spent all day travelling. I went to the meeting and I came back again. That's it. Your man picked me up the moment I parked the car.'

'And you went via Rathmoylan?'

'Rathmoylan?' Brady repeated cautiously.

'It's a small place near to Trim,' McEvoy offered.

Brady tipped his head back, stared at the ceiling, gently shaking his head.

'You drove yourself because you needed the freedom to move as you pleased.'

Brady lowered his face, his eyes coming to rest on the table again. 'I drove as I had no other way of getting there. Okay, I admit I came back via Rathmoylan. So what? I was visiting a family friend. I try and look in on him when I can. He's ill; got rheumatoid arthritis. He's the father of a friend from school. I'm on a rota to visit him; see how he's getting on.'

'Billy Mullins,' McEvoy stated.

'Yeah, Billy.' Brady raised his eyes, the penny seeming to finally drop into place. 'Oh sweet Jesus, not Billy. Why would anyone want to kill Billy?'

'For God's sake, Dermot,' McEvoy rolled his eyes, 'don't try and act all surprised. You're crap at it. He's been dead a couple of hours and you killed him. You burnt him alive! Burnt the whole house down! Decided to add him to your list of victims along with Laura Schmidt, David Hennessey and Grainne Malone.'

'He was alive when I left him. I swear,' Brady pleaded. 'I just made him some lunch, had a chat and then drove back to Dublin. That was it. I didn't kill him. I didn't kill any of them. Why would I do such an evil thing? You've got it all wrong, Superintendent. I didn't kill any of them.'

McEvoy leant forward and held Brady's eye. 'We have you located at three of the murder scenes. You were out at Glencree, one of your hairs was found on Hennessey's body, and you were at Billy Mullins' house at the time he died. You can do as much playacting as you like, but we know you're the so-called Raven, Dermot all those stupid cards and notes, trying to camouflage what you were up to. It was pathetic. You might have killed four people, thought you were a class act, but you're still an amateur. It was only timing that gave you an edge.'

'No, no, no, no. You've got this all wrong. I've been set up. I haven't killed anyone. Anyone,' he stressed. 'I've done my time and I learnt my lesson.'

'You really expect me to believe that?' McEvoy asked. 'You're a professional liar, Dermot! You deluded yourself you could get away with it. Tried to delude us with your games, but now you're going to pay the price.'

'I didn't kill them!' Brady said angrily. 'I'm being framed. This is ... this is stupid.'

'You've just told me that you were in Rathmoylan,' McEvoy said evenly. 'You had to because there're too many people who knew you were there. Now you want me to believe that your trip there was entirely innocent despite the fact that you were also where the other victims were killed. There is coincidence and then there is pattern. These are no coincidences.'

'I was only at Glencree! I was a leader on the trip there. Of course I was there! I haven't been to Maynooth or the Phoenix Park in ages. Somebody is setting me up. I'm telling you, I'm innocent.'

'They found one of your hairs stuck in the paint on David Hennessey's leg, Dermot. You weren't as careful as you thought you were when you were playing your game. You were there and the only person there before us was the killer.'

'Somebody must have planted it to make it look like I was there. David Hennessey is, I mean was, a friend. He helped me out when I was in trouble. Why would I kill him?'

'I've no idea, Dermot. Why would you kill him?'

'I didn't kill him! Look,' Brady said more calmly, trying to gather his panic, 'I didn't kill any of them. I'm being framed. Can't you see that? Somebody is trying to frame me.'

McEvoy clicked off the recording of his conversation with Charlie Deegan. 'Well?'

'Well, it seems as if DI Deegan is in hot water,' Bishop replied neutrally.

'His suspension stands?' McEvoy asked, wary at Bishop's reaction.

'Leave Charlie Deegan to me, Colm; that's my territory.'

'But he's off the case, right?' McEvoy asked, seeking at least some confirmation, some reassurance.

'His conduct will be subject to a full review.'

'You're not suspending him?' McEvoy asked, disbelief in his voice.

'I didn't say that,' Bishop said evenly.

'So you are then?'

'I'm going to review his conduct.' It seemed that Tony Bishop was wary of Charlie Deegan's network of friends in high places. 'For now I suggest that Padraig O'Keeffe takes over the Hennessey part of the investigation. He's familiar with it and he knows what he's doing. I think you should go home and get some rest. The last couple of days have been pretty intense. How much sleep have you had in the last 36 hours? Two or three?'

'I need to re-interview Brady now that his legal representative has arrived,' McEvoy said, quickly forgetting about Charlie Deegan.

'You need some rest and sleep; some time to mull things over, reflect on the case, put it all together in your mind. What I'm saying is, you can stop worrying now; you've caught him. It's over. It's just dotting the i's and crossing the t's. He thought he was being clever with his cards and chapters; thought he could beat forensics. You can't kill four people in four days and not expect to mess up somewhere along the way. He's got his comeuppance. They're going to throw away the key when they sentence him.

'Let Barney Plunkett, Jenny Flanagan and Johnny Cronin have a go at him, pick apart his story. Besides it would also give the crime scene people more time to go through his apartment, give you more ammunition to throw at him. You can start interviewing him again in the morning. Pull what all the others have done together and hit him with new stuff. If you're looking for something to do, go and get a decent dinner and buy a new suit.'

'But ...'

'No buts, Colm,' Bishop interrupted, his neck starting to rise red with irritation. 'Go home, spend time with your daughter, and try and relax. You've done a good job. Let everyone else do theirs.'

'I ...' McEvoy gave up. 'I guess I'd better go then.' His exhaustion had suddenly caught up with him; the energy that had kept him going over the last four days suddenly dissipating. He wanted to feel elated; instead he just felt a deep melancholy.