‘They won’t let me in again. I already rang. Her family were there all day and they said she needs her rest now. I got the shop to send her up one of those giant “Get well soon” balloons.’

‘Oh, she’ll be thrilled with that. So I’m second choice, am I? Go on then, you can treat me. Let’s go to the Italian in Blanchardstown. I can just about keep my eyes open for their vesuvio pizza and a glass of Barolo.’

They met Willie in reception and told him the plan. He gamely offered to join them, moaning that his wife was driving him to distraction.

‘I got a bit teary over June McGuinness,’ he said, ‘and she’s been trying to mollycoddle me all day. Turned up here with my lunch! How’s about we leave the car, lads, and get a taxi down so I can have a few pints?’

‘You don’t want to drive?’ Tom feigned horror. ‘I’d always assumed we’d have to surgically remove those pedals from your feet if we ever suggested going somewhere and you not driving. But perhaps you’re too traumatised after having your human rights breached today. Imagine, your wife bringing you lunch. The nerve of her.’

Willie raised a scornful eyebrow.

They didn’t need to phone a taxi. Ian Kelly was down at reception and offered to drive them, Blanchardstown village being on his route home.

It was an offer he wouldn’t be repeating. He spent the short journey being hectored and dictated to by Willie, the worst backseat driver in history.

‘Never again,’ he whispered to Tom, as the inspector closed the passenger door. ‘He makes me nostalgic for Sunday drives with the missus.’

Tom waved him off and turned to catch up with his colleagues. The meal was a good idea. He was glad of the camraderie and the light relief after nothing but tension and pain for the last few days. It didn’t make the fact of June’s death any easier, and Tom felt a stabbing pain in his gut wishing Sean was here with them and June safe at home. But it was a little reminder that, as his old friend said, the world kept turning.

Sean still had his sons and daughters and grandchildren to hold himself together for and of course, he had Tom and Louise, who were almost as close as family. They would all be there for each other in the coming days and weeks.

Besides, if Tom had gone straight home, he’d have spent the evening in morose solitude, unable to sleep anyhow.

The inspector caught up with Ray and Willie as they were climbing the stairs to the restaurant. He was still ruminating on the conversation with Natasha and was distracted. An idea had planted itself in his head and he was trying to think it through.