‘No. No. I’ll take you at your word,’ he says, just like I knew he would.

‘Grand,’ I say, fake smile plastered on. ‘Is there anything else you need?’

His twinkle has dimmed just a little. ‘No. Just go and get started on your work.’

Before I leave, I turn to him. ‘Ryan, you didn’t lift my contacts book from my desk, did you? It seems to be missing.’

He nods. ‘Actually, I think you must have left it here earlier this week. I found it on my desk this morning.’

He lifts some of his paperwork and I see my black hardback notebook. I am simultaneously relieved and suspicious that it is on his desk, because I’m as sure as I can be that I did not bring it into his office at any stage. I would have no reason to.

I take it from him, my mind going into overdrive. I don’t know why, but I have a strong suspicion that he knows more than he’s willing to admit about what exactly happened to my car.

Chapter Ten

Declan

Why did he have to bump into Ingrid Devlin there in the middle of the street when he was looking rough as a badger’s arse? He lit a cigarette directly off the back of another one, tried not to think about the fact he only had four left in the packet and was short of money to buy more. Maybe he’d ask Paddy in the shop to sub him a fiver for one of those cheap packets he sold under the counter.

‘You shouldn’t be smoking them!’ his ma was always telling him. ‘You shouldn’t be smoking at all, but especially not those. You never know what’s actually in them. Rat poison or arsenic or something.’

Most of the time he is able to let her rants wash over him, thankfully. But sometimes he wants to tell her that cheap fags are all he can afford, that and the occasional bag of grass when he wants to forget his worries. He tries not to drink so much these days. It doesn’t agree with him. But the grass makes him forget, for a wee while at least. Maybe he’ll ask his dealer to sub him some of that, too. He’s good for it. He pays his debts as soon as his dole lands in his account.

He sits back in his armchair and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He knows they’re crap. There’s an acrid quality to the smoke that he does his best to ignore.