‘Not just a pretty face,’ Steve says, through roll, giving me a thumbs-up. When he’s swallowed: ‘And if it was a gangster, he might’ve been careful not to leave a trail. No texts, calls, none of that.’

‘Specially if he was a married gangster. Half of them are married to each other’s sisters, cousins, whatever. Playing offside could get you kneecapped.’ I’ve got my second wind now, all right. If this pans out, the gaffer is gonna shit a hedgehog; this is about as far from routine as a lovers’ tiff can get. ‘Jesus. It actually plays.’

‘It’d explain why the call came in to Stoneybatter station, too. Most civilians, if they want an ambulance, they’ll just ring 999—’

‘But a crim, or a crim’s mate, he’s gonna know that 999 calls are recorded. And he’s not gonna want his voice on tape, where we can identify it – specially if he’s already known to us. So he rings the local station instead.’

‘Exactly,’ Steve says. ‘The only thing, though. Does Aislinn seem to you like the type who’d go out with a gangster? Nice girl like that?’

‘Hell, yeah. She’s exactly the type. Her life was so boring, just thinking about it makes me want to hit myself in the face with a hammer for a bit of excitement. You know what she had in her bookcase? Bunch of books about crime in Ireland, including a big thick one on gangs.’

Steve lets out a huff of laughter. ‘Look at that. Maybe she was the type after all.’

‘I thought she was just looking for second-hand thrills, but she could’ve been reading up on her new fella’s job – or maybe the book was just for kicks, but then she got a chance at the real thing. And you heard Lucy: it’s not like Aislinn had some big moral sense, or even basic common sense, that’d stop her getting involved with a crim.’ I’m working to keep my voice even. It’s early days; this is a stack of made-up ifs and maybes that could dissolve into nothing any second. ‘If some dodgy geezer starts chatting her up in a club? As long as he’s good-looking and he dresses OK, she’s gonna be fucking thrilled. It’s gonna make her year.’

‘Most of them don’t dress OK, but,’ Steve points out. ‘The gang lads. They dress like shite. Lot of them look like shite, too.’

‘So that’ll narrow it down. Then, after a few months, the thrill’s wearing off, Aislinn’s starting to notice that Mr Excitement is basically just a scumbag. And that’s when she meets Nice Guy Rory. She dumps the scumbag – or else she can’t get up the guts to do it, just starts seeing Rory on the QT. Either way, the scumbag’s not happy.’

Steve says, ‘You think Lucy knows a name?’

‘If there’s a name to know.’

‘If. You think?’

‘Probably just a first name, or a nickname. And she’s not gonna give it to us. If he’s out there, we’ll have to find him ourselves.’