Breslin rolls his eyes and sits back, shaking his head. Rory throws me a quick grateful glance. We’re turning the interview room into familiar ground – even Breslin’s slaggings are the type Rory has to have taken in school on a regular basis – and that’s settling him. He’s not a helpless little weenie, the way I thought from all that fidgeting and dithering at the start. It’s more complicated than that. Inside his comfort zone, Rory does fine. Take him outside it and he stops coping.

I’m normally a jeans guy . . . Aislinn wasn’t his comfort zone.

I say, ‘So where does Aislinn live?’

‘Stoneybatter.’

‘Convenient,’ I say, nodding. ‘Just a quick hop across the river, and you’re there. How’d you get there?’

‘Bus. I walked down to Morehampton Road – it wasn’t raining yet – and I caught the 39A up to Stoneybatter. It stops practically around the corner from her house.’

‘Whoa whoa whoa. Rewind.’ Breslin’s eyebrows are up. ‘Bus? You took the bus to her place? Way to impress a lady, Rory. Do you not own a car, no?’

Rory’s going all pink and flustered again. I love blushers. ‘No, I do, yeah. Just, I was thinking – I mean, if we had wine with dinner, and if I needed to get home—’

‘You do? What kind of car?’

‘It’s a Toyota Yaris—’

Breslin snorted. ‘Yeah? What year?’

‘2007.’

‘Jesus,’ Breslin says, grinning into his notebook. ‘Now I see why you took the bus. Carry on.’

Rory ducks his head and pokes his glasses up his nose. Apparently he’s the type who takes wedgies meekly. When those guys finally snap, they do it right. I ask, ‘What time did you leave home?’

Rory instantly sits up straighter. He’s so glad to hear me doing the talking instead of Breslin, he’d tell me anything. ‘Quarter to seven.’

Which is the most interesting thing he’s said so far. His appointment with Aislinn was for eight. It doesn’t take an hour and a quarter to get from Ranelagh to Stoneybatter, specially not on a Saturday evening. He could have walked in half the time.

‘And when did you get the bus?’ I ask.

‘Just before seven. One got there as soon as I reached the stop.’

We can check that: CCTV on the bus. I write it down. ‘What time were you due at Aislinn’s place?’

‘Eight, but I – I mean, I didn’t want to be late. If I was early, I could always just walk around for a while.’

‘Brrr,’ I say, making a face. ‘In that weather? Doing what?’

Rory shifts his feet like he can’t get them comfortable. Talking about that extra time is turning him jumpy. I would only love to stamp Rory innocent and chase off after Steve’s gangster, but I can smell it, hot as blood: there’s something here.