‘I did it,’ Donnie kept replying. ‘It’s none of your business why I did it. Jeremy and Esther had nothing to do with it. It was my idea. They just got caught up in my madness. I want to do everything I can to make it up to them. They’ve been so good to me. I don’t want them to spend another second in this awful place. I want you to charge me with the murder of Rhona Macbride. I know my rights. You have to charge me or you have to release me. You can’t keep a suspect here indefinitely when you have enough evidence to charge.’

Unfortunately, Donnie was right. The clock was ticking. If there wasn’t a break soon, he’d be heading for court, charged with Rhona’s murder, and Esther and Jeremy would be released and their file sent to the DPP. They might end up being charged with nothing. The DPP only brings forward charges where there’s a reasonable chance of conviction. The way Donnie was talking? I wouldn’t bet on ever seeing the Gills in the dock.

In fairness to Lenihan, he was dogged. He was walking Donnie back through his story for the tenth or twelfth time, excavating any inconsistency, hoping he might start to become complacent.

‘Tell me again how you got to Shannon.’

‘You know this already.’

‘Humour me, Donnie. I’m just doing my job. And this is the last time, I promise.’

‘Okay, Inspector Lenihan,’ Donnie said. ‘As you well know, I drove to Shannon.’

‘What kind of car do you drive?’

‘As you well know, I drive a 2013 Alfa Romeo Giulietta Sportiva.’

‘Small,’ Lenihan said.

I sat up. Lenihan was going off script.

‘It’s a beautiful car, Inspector Lenihan. Beautifully designed. Anyway, I’m not here in Ireland much. I drive a bigger car back home in Los Angeles.’

‘Another Alfa?’

‘Yes, as it happens.’

‘I drive a Passat,’ Lenihan said. ‘Very reliable.’

‘Reliable but dull,’ Donnie said.

‘You can’t beat the Germans, though. When I’ve some money, I’m getting a Merc.’

‘You’ve no romance in you, Inspector. I’ve always driven Italian cars.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Even when I hadn’t a bean, I had style.’

‘Yeah?’

‘My first car was a Fiat, a yellow Cinquecento,’ Donnie said.

‘Hang on,’ I shouted. ‘A yellow Cinquecento. That’s the car Joey O’Connor saw him driving. Dropping Deirdre off at her house …’

‘What?’ Sadie asked. ‘What has this to do with anything?’

‘Where did I put my fucking phone?’

‘Here’s your fucking phone,’ Sadie said. ‘Are you okay? You look …’

I grabbed the phone from her and started scrolling through my pictures until I found the one I was looking for. My fingers shaking, I enlarged it.