‘Hey,’ I say. Gary’s in the Missing Persons squad room: I can hear the weave of chat, someone giving out, someone else laughing, a mobile ringing. ‘Yeah, I got it. You’re a gem. Just a couple of quick questions, OK? And do me a favour: can you go somewhere private?’

‘No problem. Hang on a mo—’ The creak of his chair, some comment with a grin built in from one of the other lads, ‘Yeah yeah yeah,’ from Gary. ‘Smart-arsed little bollix wants to know if my prostate’s giving me hassle,’ he tells me. ‘Young people nowadays; no respect.’

‘Awww, Gar. It’s OK. I respect you.’

‘At least you don’t mock my prostate. Never mock a man’s prostate. That’s dirty.’

‘Below the belt, yeah?’

‘Holy Jaysus. Is that what passes for humour over there?’ A door shuts, and the voices vanish: he’s out in the corridor. ‘Right. What did you want to know?’

Steve has his head up, keeping an eye on the entrances to the square, but he’s listening. ‘First thing,’ I say. ‘You guys went all out on the Desmond Murray case. Everything looked like he’d skipped voluntarily, it turned out he had skipped voluntarily, but yous worked it like a murder. How come?’

Gary snorts. ‘There’s an easy one. Because of the wife, basically. Did you see the photo?’

‘Yeah. She was good-looking.’

‘The photo doesn’t do her justice. She was a stunner. Not the kind you want to get in kinky underwear and shag senseless; the kind you want to look after. Open doors for her. Hold her umbrella.’ Gary’s voice getting fainter, water running, clink of cups; he’s rinsing a mug in the kitchen, phone tucked under his jaw. ‘And she knew how to work it, too. Looking at us like we were superheroes, going on about how she knew we’d find her husband and she felt so lucky to have us, she didn’t know what she’d have done if her whole world had been in the hands of people she couldn’t trust the way she trusted us – loads of that. Crying at all the right moments, and making sure she looked good while she was doing it – her husband’s just gone missing, but she’s still bothered to do her hair and her makeup and put on a pretty dress? She knew what she was at, all right.’

Sounds like Aislinn took after Mammy. ‘You think it was all an act? She didn’t give a damn about the hubby, just wanted attention?’