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of some kind, but judging by the valuable objects scattered around the place, they obviously hadn’t taken much.
    He called the rookie over, who marched up to the two detectives, snapped to attention and straightened his uniform.
    ‘Officer Fitzgerald,’ Kennedy began, ‘take your time and tell us what you can remember.’
    Somewhat surprisingly, the younger cop was calm and articulate as he outlined what had happened when he first reached the apartment. ‘The 999 was logged at 6.03 a.m. from this building, apparently by another resident who’d heard a gunshot coming from the apartment,’ he informed the detectives.
    ‘OK.’
    ‘Our unit responded quickly,’ he continued, ‘and arrived at the scene at precisely 6.18 a.m.’
    ‘Six-eighteen a.m. precisely?’ Chris echoed, amused by the young man’s certainty.
    ‘Precisely, sir. I checked my watch just to be sure.’
    The detectives exchanged a surreptitious look. ‘All right. And then?’
    ‘Well, at first we were ordered not to penetrate the building in case the perpetrator was still at large.’
    Despite himself, Chris was tickled by the younger officer’s terminology – it was something the training colleges instilled with vigour into new recruits. Personally, he wasn’t a fan of this ‘Robocop’ talk and whenever he gave a radio or TV statement, he purposely spoke in layman’s terms so the public could be assured that if they did come forward with information, someone in the force might actually be capable of understanding them.
    ‘Then, at 6.45, we got word that the building was secure and they gave us the OK to go in,’ Fitzgerald continued. ‘So in we went.’
    ‘Please tell me you didn’t use the lift to get up here,’ Kennedy remarked.
    Looking faintly hurt, Fitzgerald shook his head. ‘Of course not. The perpetrator may have used the elevators, so we made sure we entered via the stairs in order to avoid contaminating evidence.’ He paused. ‘I might be new, but I’m not stupid, Detective,’ he added, pointedly.
    Chris had begun to draw the exact same conclusion. ‘So this is how you found them.’
    ‘Yes, sir. It was obvious as soon as we arrived that both victims were dead, so we called it in as a homicide and possible suicide and made sure not to touch a thing until the forensic people got here.’ He added the last part with emphasis, looking directly at Kennedy.
    The kid could stand up for himself. Chris was impressed.
    ‘Did you find out who called in the 999?’ Chris asked.
    Fitzgerald nodded and flipped open a black notebook. ‘The woman living in the apartment next door, a Mrs Maura McKenna. Now, she doesn’t remember everything exactly as it happened.’ He sounded vaguely disappointed that his only witness wasn’t up to his own high standards. ‘According to her statement, she was fast asleep in bed when she heard a sound that quote – nearly lifted her out of her skin – unquote,’ he said, reading from the notebook. ‘The second shot came soon after, although she’s unable to remember exactly how soon, but she believes it could have been four or five minutes. Then she rang 999.’
    ‘OK.’
    ‘She was also able to give us a possible ID on one of the victims. The girl living here is – or rather, was – Clare Ryan. She’s a student at UCD. The old lady said that the girl’s parents bought this apartment for her a couple of years back, when she first started at university. She doesn’t know anything about a boyfriend, though.’
    ‘Anything else?’
    ‘That’s it, sir,’ the younger man said in conclusion.
    ‘Thanks, we’ll have a chat with the neighbor later,’ Chris said, dismissing him.
    Just a quick scan of the room confirmed that the dead girl was indeed Clare Ryan – there was a long white sideboard in the living room dotted with framed photographs of a smiling brunette. Chris picked up a photo, taken on a beach somewhere – Thailand, maybe? The sand was pure white, the sea azure. The