‘We love that feel,’ Breslin tells Rory. ‘We’ve been hunting it all week. I’ve got to admit, my son, your theory is the nearest we’ve got to that feel. We’ll get people digging deeper into Aislinn’s incidental contacts – nightclubs, work connections. If this guy turns up, Rory, we owe you that ticket to Barbados after all.’

He leans back in his chair and takes a long slurp of coffee, sorting through his file. ‘Meanwhile,’ he says, ‘since we’re here, you mind clearing up a couple of small things? Just so we can cross them off our list?’

‘Ah, Jaysus, you and your lists,’ I say, rolling my eyes. ‘Ignore him, Rory. This guy makes lists of what he puts in his pockets, so he can double-check that he hasn’t dropped anything. Don’t get sucked in. Get out while you can.’

‘Don’t knock my lists, you,’ Breslin says, pointing at me. ‘How often have they saved our arses?’

‘Yeah yeah yeah.’

‘Rory? Is that cool with you? Just a few more minutes.’

We all know Rory’s not leaving, not with nowhere to go but round and round his flat and his head. He says, ‘I suppose—’

‘See?’ Breslin says to me. ‘Rory doesn’t mind humouring me. Am I right, Rory?’

‘Yes. I mean—’

‘I mind,’ I say. ‘If I have to put up with one more—’

‘Beautiful,’ Breslin says. ‘Suck it up, Conway.’ He flips paper. I sigh heavily, twisting my hair back into its bun: business time.

Breslin was right, we’re good in interviews. It shoves the message home: working well together means bugger-all else. I catch the smooth cold span of the one-way glass in the corner of my eye and wonder if Steve is behind it.

‘Ah,’ Breslin says. ‘Here we go: lovely list. Question One. Rory: Saturday evening, Aislinn and one of her friends were talking about you calling round for dinner. Sounds like she was looking forward to it.’ He gives Rory a smile, holds it till Rory more or less smiles back. ‘Sweet. And the friend warned Aislinn to’ – he pretends to check his notes – ‘“be careful OK?” Why would she do that?’

Rory stares, bewildered. ‘Who said that?’

‘Who would you expect to say it?’

‘I don’t – I wouldn’t. I hardly even know any of Aislinn’s friends. Who—?’

‘Hang on,’ Breslin says, lifting a hand. ‘You’re telling us that, if Aislinn’s friends had known you, they’d have had a reason to warn her to be careful? What reason?’

‘No. That’s not what I said. They wouldn’t have a—’

‘One of them thought she did.’

‘She didn’t. None of them had any reason. At all.’

‘Must’ve been a misunderstanding,’ I say. ‘Was there something the mate could’ve taken up wrong? A new fella on the scene, mates can get protective, start seeing red flags everywhere—’