Dabs nipped out to get the fingerprints he’d lifted, while Stanley grabbed the sheets of paper from the fax machine and started to go through them.

Murphy looked at Jane. ‘Let’s hear what else the cafe owner had to say.’

She went over the details about the younger man, Carl, and the man in the brown camel hair coat.

‘Is Carl related to any of them?’ Murphy asked.

‘He could be, but Nick didn’t know for sure,’ Teflon replied.

‘Maybe Carl’s the man who’s marrying George’s daughter Tina,’ Dabs suggested as he examined the fingerprints.

‘Did you find out any more about the wedding?’ the Colonel asked.

‘Nick knew about it, but not when or where it’s going to be,’ Teflon said.

‘What about using his cafe for surveillance?’ Murphy asked.

‘It wasn’t suitable due to the viewing angles, but the newsagent’s on the corner of the road overlooks the cafe and snooker hall. We spoke to the owner, who’s happy for us to use the upstairs and didn’t ask any questions.’

‘I asked Nick about doing some UC work as a waitress,’ Jane added. ‘He said I could start Monday—’

‘That’s an option worth considering, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves—’

‘We got a fucking hit!’ Stanley shouted, waving one of the fax sheets in the air. ‘Connor Aidan O’Reilly, aged thirty-six, born Belfast 1944, six feet four inches tall, with dark brown hair.’

He handed the sheet to Murphy, who squinted at the photo of O’Reilly.

‘This mugshot looks old and the fax is blurry,’ Murphy complained.

Stanley wasn’t fazed. ‘I know, but I can tell you it’s him – and Dabs reckons the prints match, too.’

Dabs held up the sheets. ‘I can’t make a full sixteen-point identification – the prints aren’t clear enough on the faxes.’

Stanley frowned. ‘Are you now saying they’re not a match?’

‘From what I’ve got in front of me I can only identify twelve points that are the same, so—’

‘That doesn’t answer my question, Dabs.’

‘Calm down and let me finish, will you? What I can say is that the source of the fingerprints on the glass is a highly probable match to the prints held on file by the RUC . . .’

‘Christ! So they are a match!’ Stanley snapped.

‘In my opinion, yes,’ Dabs explained patiently. ‘But I need a second fingerprint expert to confirm it for any arrest or court purposes. A decent copy of the prints from the RUC would help.’

Murphy held his hand up. ‘All right, stop bickering . . . For now I’m happy with your “expert opinion” that the prints are a probable match. Get the RUC to send a decent copy to fingerprint bureau at the Yard, then another expert can examine them. What sort of criminal record has O’Reilly got?’