Free Deadly Intent by Anna Sweeney

detective members from Bandon, as well as two officers from Castletownbere station. We’ll also be assisted by two colleagues from the County Kerry area of the Beara peninsula, who will coordinate with us on local interviews and other matters. In addition, three detectives have just arrived from the National Criminal Investigations Bureau up in Dublin.’
    Devane paused, as if to allow everyone to ponder his or her status in the scheme of things. He had spent some years as a detective superintendent in the National Bureau in Dublin himself, as far as Redmond knew. ‘I have been asked to lead the investigation,’ he confirmed then. ‘You will all receive a handout shortly, detailing your immediate tasks. Needless to say, everyone’s contribution is of great importance, regardless of your experience.’
    â€˜The deputy state pathologist is still at the scene, along with forensic staff from the Technical Bureau. We will receive their official reports as soon as possible, and meanwhile, I’d like to set out a number of points.’
    At last he was going to state the bald facts of the murder. Redmond noticed that many of his colleagues sat with heads bent as if in church, listening dutifully to the teachings of their pastor.
    â€˜As you’ve all heard, the body was found in a plastic bag. A double layer of bags, to be precise, of the type used for garden waste. The bag seems to have been thrown from the bridge some hours before it was found earlier today.’
    Redmond kept his eyes on the top table. He would love to hear his own name mentioned publicly but that might be expecting too much.
    â€˜We’ve indications, however, that the murder took place up to a day or two before the bag was disposed of. There were clear marks of strangulation on the victim’s neck, but so far, there’s no evidence that he tried to fight off his attacker. Blood tests will be required, of course, to establish whether alcohol or another substance might have hindered him.’
    Devane sipped slowly from a glass of water, allowing silence to hover over the gathering. Redmond felt a tense prickling on his skin. He could hardly hope, really, that Devane would single him out for public praise.
    â€˜The name of the victim is known to you all by now, and will be released officially on this evening’s television news. Oscar Malden was a middle-aged man habitually resident in County Tipperary. He had been divorced from his wife for some years. They had one son, Fergus, aged twenty-three, who had come on holiday to Beara with his father. We brought Fergus to the scene a short time ago, to do the necessary identification.’
    Devane wiped his temples with a handkerchief. A rumour had circulated that Fergus Malden collapsed when he saw the body. No surprise, in Redmond’s view, when he remembered the awful sight by the rocky stream.
    â€˜Oscar Malden.’ Devane repeated the name with slow deliberation, and Redmond imagined it carved on a headstone in large letters. ‘He was a man who had achieved a significant measure of fame amongst the public, and therefore we can expect that his tragic death will attract great attention. The public will demand answers, as well they ought in all cases of murder. And media people will arrive in our midst who will probe for answers in a civil and reasonable manner.’
    Devane looked around the room, his face hard and unsmiling, his voice building momentum like a train. ‘But let’s be in no doubt about something else that’s about to happen. A pack of wolves are on their way to west Cork at this moment, dressed up in the ordinary garb of humanity and calling themselves journalists. They’ll be in the grip of a ferocious hunger for stories, and will stop at nothing in their quest for satisfaction.’
    Devane paused and a man seated near the front put up his hand, in which he held a newspaper. He was a detective sergeant from