Which meant that, basically, I had about three days. Nobody likes going backwards. Once this case was officially closed out, I would need to come up with notarized video footage of someone else committing both murders before anyone would reopen it. “I’m sure that’ll be a blast,” I said. “What do you, personally, think of Detective Kennedy’s theory?”

That caught Stephen off guard. It took him a second to get his mouthful under control. “Me?”

“You, sunny Jim. I already know how Scorcher works. Like I told you before, I’m interested in what you’ve got to offer. Apart from your mad typing skills.”

He shrugged. “It’s not my job to—”

“Yeah, it is. I’m asking you; that makes it your job. Does his theory float your boat?”

Stephen shoved more sandwich in his mouth, to give himself time to think. He was watching his plate, keeping his eyes invisible. I said, “Yep, Stevie, you do indeed need to bear in mind that I could be biased as all hell, or crazed with grief, or just plain crazy to start with, and any or all of those could make me a very bad person to share your innermost thoughts with. But all the same, I’m betting this isn’t the first time it’s crossed your mind that Detective Kennedy might just be wrong.”

He said, “It’s occurred to me.”

“Of course it has. If it hadn’t, you’d be an idiot. Has it occurred to anyone else on your team?”

“Not that they’ve mentioned.”

“And they won’t. They’ve all thought about it, because they’re not idiots either, but they’re keeping their mouths shut because they’re terrified of getting on Scorchie’s bad side.” I leaned in across the table, close enough that he had to look up. “That leaves you, Detective Moran. You and me. If the guy who killed Rose Daly is still out there, no one’s going after him except the two of us. Are you starting to see just why our little game is ethically OK ?”

After a moment Stephen said, “I guess.”

“It’s ethically just peachy all over, because your primary responsibility here isn’t to Detective Kennedy—or to me, come to that. It’s to Rose Daly and Kevin Mackey. We’re all they’ve got. So quit faffing about like a virgin clutching her knickers, and tell me what you think of Detective Kennedy’s theory.”

Stephen said, simply, “I’m not mad about it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t mind the holes—no known motive, not sure how Kevin found out about the elopement, all that stuff. You’d expect gaps like that, after this long. What’s bothering me is the print results.”

I had been wondering if he would spot that. “What about them?”