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ex-husband, he was deluding himself. On the contrary, the knife stunt had probably made it worse. “Madder than a cut tiger snake,” she said, voicing her thoughts aloud.
    “What?”
    “You know Martin is not a man to be messed with.”
    “What do you take me for? An idiot?”
    “It’s not that.” Turning her back on him, she filled the kettle from the tap. “If he thinks you’re sleeping with Sophie, God knows what he’s capable of.”
    “Well, I’m not.”
    She set the kettle to boil, glancing over her shoulder at him. Was that disappointment she’d heard?
    His gaze met hers, his pale eyes narrowed. “I slept on the couch, okay? Not that who I sleep with is any of your damned business.”
    “You’re right, it’s not. I just don’t want to see my brother getting hurt.”
    “I’m not thirteen anymore, Dervla. I don’t need looking after.”
    Her hands up in surrender, she backed off. “Okay, okay, say no more.” Now probably wasn’t a good time to ask how he was off for money either.
    Emmet busied himself spooning instant coffee into two mugs.
    “I’m worried about Alana,” Dervla said. “Are you doing anything this morning? We could check out some of her old haunts.” Not something she relished doing on her own.
    His eyebrows knitting together, he screwed the coffee jar lid back on. “Do you really think—”
    A knock sounded at the door. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he went to answer it.
    Dervla heard Gabe before she saw him, his voice reverberating through the apartment. “No worries. I’ll have that proposal to you before the end of the day. Thanks for the call.”
    Flipping his phone closed, he stepped into the kitchen, dressed in a grey Armani suit and polished black shoes. His work garb. His phone rang.
    She and Emmet exchanged glances over Gabe’s shoulder, waiting while he answered it, gave the caller instructions about some underwriting policy, then hung up.
    Emmet pushed past his brother. “Good to see you have your priorities sorted.”
    “Some of us have responsibilities. At least I still have a job.”
    “Screw you.”
    Fists clenched, Dervla covered her head with her arms. “Enough! Will you two just listen to yourselves?”
    No one spoke for a long moment.
    “Coffee, Gabe?” She grabbed another mug.
    “I’m not staying.”
    “The door’s that way,” Emmet said, with a sharp thrust of his thumb.
    “So it is.”
    Brother glared at brother.
    “You came here for a reason. What was it?” Her brothers weren’t in the habit of dropping in on one another. Not in recent times.
    “When was the last time you saw Dad?” Gabe asked.
    “I don’t know. Six…” Emmet shrugged. “Seven months ago, maybe. What’s it to you, anyway?”
    “Nothing to me. But then I’m not the police.”
    “Is that it? Are we finished?”
    A smirk tugged at the corner of Gabe’s mouth. “So, you weren’t the tall, ginger-haired man seen arguing with Dad in the print shop’s car park last Thursday? Six-thirtyish?”
     
     

CHAPTER 9
     
    Dervla couldn’t speak, Gabe’s revelation a lead weight on her chest.
    Emmet flipped two fingers in the direction of the closing door. “Prick.”
    She found her voice. “Why? Because he caught you out?” Or because he’d cut and run, leaving her to contend with the fallout?
    Her brother ran a hand through his ginger hair and let out a loud sigh. “It was stupid, I know, but what else was I supposed to do? I had Gabe’s detective lackey breathing down my neck.”
    “You can’t seriously think that Gabe has any sway over Todd Gleeson. He’s a trained professional,” she said, more to convince herself. “I’m sure whatever Gabe told him, he didn’t just accept at face value. But blatantly lying to the police?” She shook her head. “God, Em, what were you thinking?”
    He shrugged, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout.
    “What were you and Dad arguing about?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “It’s me you’re talking to, not Gabe. Not