‘Those notes?’ McCann laughs in my face, a wide-mouthed bark. ‘Jesus, Conway, tell me you know better than that. How are those evidence of anyone threatening anything? Maybe Aislinn was planning on using them to twist my arm – you can’t even prove that much – but she hadn’t got around to doing it. I hadn’t a clue those notes existed. I didn’t even have access to them – password-protected, didn’t you say? Computer Crime can go through the times when that folder was opened, show that they don’t match the times when I was round at Aislinn’s. Those notes are nothing.’

I’m shaking my head. ‘Doesn’t matter whether you knew about them or not. Aislinn could’ve sent copies to your wife.’

‘She didn’t. Check her computer logs, printer, work printer, anything she had access to. Bet you anything they were never printed out.’

‘She could have e-mailed them.’

‘Go ahead and check her e-mail accounts. You think Aislinn had my wife’s e-mail address? How stupid do I look?’

‘Or she just called round to your gaff when you were at work.’

‘She didn’t. Trace her movements, look for anyone who saw her round my way. Good luck with it.’

‘Is your wife gonna say the same?’

That brings McCann up and forward, halfway across the table with his teeth bared in my face, in one savage move. ‘Don’t you fucking dare bring this to my wife. She knows nothing about Aislinn, and it’s staying that way. Have you got that?’

‘Routine procedure,’ I say, raising my hands. ‘I’ve got to follow up every lead.’

‘Follow up whatever you want. But if you tell my wife about Aislinn, I’ll wreck you. You hear that?’

‘Look at that,’ I say, with a touch of a grin. ‘Looks like your missus finding out about your affair might be a problem after all.’

McCann’s jaw clamps hard. He wants to hit me. I stare back, still grinning, and hope he tries.

After a moment his eyes cut away from mine. He eases back into his seat, rolls his neck. ‘If you need to talk to my wife,’ he says, ‘talk to her. But you work around the affair. Even the pair of ye should be able to do that. Ask her if she’s had any anonymous letters, any strange callers. I can tell you exactly what she’ll say, but if you need to feel like the big boys for a day . . .’

Steve says, ‘If you don’t want us talking to your missus, man, then don’t make us. You talk to us instead.’

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

‘OK,’ I say. ‘Where were you Saturday evening?’

The grin lifts his top lip like a snarl. He leans back, folds his arms and laughs, up at the ceiling. ‘Now we’re getting to it. About bloody time.’

‘Where were you?’