“We’re very sorry to tell you,” Orla said, “but we believe your sister, Aimee, has been the victim of an attack.” A pause. To let the first part sink in, Venetia guessed. To nudge her, to prepare her for what was to come. And then it came, when Orla continued, her voice low and soft and kind and sad. “Unfortunately, a body we believe to be Aimee’s was found at her house this morning, along with a body we believe to be that of her husband, Rory Quinlan.”
The rest of it went by in a blur and, in the end, no further acting was required. Hearing the formal news of her sister’s death was like experiencing it all over again. For Felipe too, it seemed. He stood in the corner of the room, still as a statue, face ashen. Neither of them spoke for a long time after Orla stopped. She’d said something about identifying Aimee, Venetia realized now, replaying the last few words.
Venetia nodded agreement, then asked what had happened. She didn’t want to hear what had happened, she’d been reliving the discovery over and over since last night, but it’s what anyone would ask in the circumstances.
“We believe both Aimee and Rory were attacked with a plate from a barbell.” Orla’s voice cracked a little here.
Venetia slumped back on the couch. Knowing it already didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“I’m very sorry.” Orla’s voice was still low, apologetic.
“Rory owns a gym,” Felipe offered from his stance by the fireplace. “I think he keeps some extra weights in the house. I guess it was one of his.”
Venetia couldn’t tell if Felipe was acting a part or thinking aloud or trying to help. Probably all of the above.
Orla looked over at him. “As far as we know, yes. The murder weapon was still at the scene.”
Venetia asked then if they knew who did it, because that seemed like something a person would ask.
“It’s very early in the investigation,” Orla told her, “and we’re still taking fingerprints and DNA from the scene. We hope that will tell us something.”
“DNA?” Felipe asked. “What kind of DNA?”
Shut up, Felipe, Venetia shouted at him in her head.
“Hair follicles, skin particles, saliva…”
“Saliva?” Felipe looked puzzled.
“When people shout or even talk, they often expel tiny bits of saliva. Spittle, basically. Especially someone in a rage.”
Felipe nodded dutifully.
“And we know the perpetrator would have been very close to the victims during the attack, the weight is only eight inches in diameter. So we’re confident we’ll find DNA on the victims.”
Venetia processed this information, puzzled. The bar attached to theweight meant she’d been at least—what, four feet?—away from Rory. Were they keeping that information back on purpose? Or maybe Orla wasn’t there and was passing on second-hand information?
Silence now and, against her better judgment, she filled it.
“Won’t there be lots of DNA and prints all over the house, from Rory and Aimee and us and their friends?” she asked.
Orla nodded. “Absolutely. And when you’re ready, we’ll need to take samples from both of you, and anyone else who might have called regularly to the house, so we can exclude you and see if we have DNA from unknown sources.”
“And how can you discover who they are, if they’re unknown?” Felipe asked.
“With a bit of luck, it’ll be someone we already have on file. If not, we’ll continue the investigation the old-fashioned way—asking neighbors for doorbell-camera footage, anything they might have seen. And we’ll need to speak to you too, to find out more about Aimee and Rory, people in their lives, any habits they might have had that could get them in trouble. Anything about their relationship, and so on.”
Felipe’s eyes widened. Worried.
Venetia nodded, keeping her expression neutral, willing him to do the same. She needed the police to leave.
“Maybe you’re OK to chat about that now?” the garda tried.
“I…I need to lie down,” Venetia whispered. “I feel sick. I really want to help, but I think I’m going to throw up.”
Orla and her colleague stood, readied to leave. They understood, they’d be in touch, they were very sorry for her loss. And finally, after what felt like forever, they were gone.
• • •
