‘She’d’ve given me holy hell. Called me every name under the sun. I’d’ve been in Breslin’s spare room for weeks, maybe months. God knows I’d’ve deserved it.’ The vicious scrape to McCann’s voice says he means that. ‘But we’d have sorted it in the end. No question.’

I’ve got an eyebrow up. ‘Uh-huh. Easy to say that now.’

‘It’s a fact. She’d’ve made me beg, grovel, but she’d’ve taken me back. The kids—’

‘Yeah, let’s not forget the kids. How traumatised would they have been?’

That tightens his jaw. ‘They’re grown adults, or near enough. A few weeks of Mammy and Daddy fighting isn’t the end of the world.’

‘How would they have felt about Daddy fucking some girl young enough to be their sister?’

‘Jesus,’ Steve says, wincing. ‘Guaranteed long-term estrangement, right there.’

McCann snaps, ‘They wouldn’t have found out.’

‘No? Your missus wouldn’t have mentioned it? She a saint?’

‘Sounds like one,’ Steve says.

‘She’d want to be,’ I say.

‘She cares about the kids. She wouldn’t have hurt them.’

We’re going faster, harder, leaning forward, slamming the questions across the table. McCann’s meeting us beat for beat, firing back answers without a second’s pause, that blue glint grown to a blaze. He thinks this is it. He can see exactly where we’re going, and he thinks this theory is where we’re putting our money. All he has to do is kill off this one, and we’ll be left in tatters.

‘Either way,’ Steve says, ‘it’d be a lot easier not to go through all that hassle. Wouldn’t it?’

‘Yeah, it would. Lucky for me, that never came up.’

‘Lucky,’ I say, eyebrows way up. ‘Is that what we’re calling this, yeah? We’ve got a dead girl in the morgue, but hey, look how lucky you got?’

McCann throws me a disgusted glare and doesn’t bother answering. ‘In fairness,’ Steve says, ‘McCann dodged a bullet there, all right. I’d call that lucky.’

‘He did,’ I said. ‘He definitely did that. Did Aislinn threaten to go to your wife, McCann?’

McCann’s shaking his head, slow and definite. He’s on solid ground here: doesn’t need to worry about Aislinn’s texts, because he’s telling the truth. ‘Never.’

‘She just hinted.’

‘Nah. Not even a hint.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘Yeah, I am. Positive. Ask Lucy the Lezzer, ask anyone you want: let’s see you find one bit of evidence that Aislinn ever mentioned going to my missus. One. Just one.’

‘We’ve got two dozen.’