‘DS Maguire… how can I be of service? I’m afraid I don’t have any handy clues that could help you.’

‘No, you’re grand altogether. I have plenty of clues of my own, thanks. Not that I always share them with you and all the rest of the newshounds. Look, it’s stopped raining… why don’t we go across to The Hub and I’ll treat you to one of those fancy craft beers.’

Owen raised one eyebrow suspiciously. ‘After all I’ve written about you, you’re offering to buy me a drink?’

‘Why not, Owen? I’ve a thick skin, do you know? In this job, you have to. And besides, I’m not one to bear grudges.’

They crossed over the intersection with Copley Street and went into The Hub. It was an old pub with a yellow-and-blue frontage that had been given a new breath of life by bringing in a variety of local Irish beers and strong European lagers. It was still an ‘auld fella’ pub inside, with dark wooden panelling and walls crowded with framed pictures and a worn-out carpet that looked as if it had been rescued from an episode of Minder. Katie bought Owen a pint of Wicklow Wolf Pale Ale and a diet tonic water for herself and they sat down at a small circular table by the window.

‘I’m not going to beat around the bush, Owen,’ said Katie. ‘I don’t object to criticism if it’s fair, and some of what you wrote was justified, I’ll admit. Like I said back at the briefing, the gangs will always try to stay one step ahead of us, and we can’t always predict what they’re going to be up to next. But we’re catching up with them fast, and most of what you’ve written in the Sun has been biased and pure unfair, especially against me personally.’

Owen sipped his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he lifted up the glass and said, ‘This is a powerful pint, this is. Fruity, do you know, like citrus and blueberries, with a hint of malt.’

Katie said, ‘Were you really so broke that you needed to take money from Chief Superintendent O’Kane to write pieces about me like that, bringing me down?’

Owen gave her a quick, furtive look and then looked away again.

‘You’re not going to try and deny it, are you?’ Katie asked him. ‘Come on, Owen, we need to talk about this. Even if you’ve been calling me an incompetent detective, I’m still a detective, and I have proof.’

Owen stared at his beer. ‘How did you find out?’