I lift an eyebrow. ‘Yeah? Did Aislinn think you were grand the way you were?’
McCann shrugs. ‘Far as I could tell. If she didn’t, she would’ve ended it.’
‘You’re having your cake and eating it, and she gets the crumbs. What kind of person’s OK with that?’
‘I wasn’t taking anything away from her. We agreed from the start that she could see other fellas. Only fair.’
Nice move. Not a chance it’s true. ‘And she took you up on it,’ I say. ‘When did you find out she was seeing someone else?’
A quick blink: McCann needs to be careful here. ‘After she died, only.’
Steve and I glance at each other and leave a silence. McCann’s too old a hand to fall for that. He flicks us a sardonic look and waits us out.
‘We’ll go with that for now,’ I say. ‘So how did that make you feel?’
McCann snorts. ‘What are you, my therapist?’
‘Do you go to a therapist?’
‘No, I don’t. Do you?’
‘Then you don’t need to save the good stuff for him. How’d you feel when you found out Aislinn had another guy on the go?’
McCann’s all ready for this one. He shrugs. ‘No one likes sharing. But sure, I always used johnnies, so what harm?’
‘Were you surprised?’ Steve asks.
‘Didn’t think about that either way.’
‘Lucy was surprised. When she found out about Rory.’
That gets a sardonic grin. ‘Yeah. Bet she was only delighted: two guys between her and Aislinn now, instead of just one.’
Steve says, ‘She was surprised because Aislinn was in love with you, man. Mad about you. Did you know that?’
A twitch of McCann’s head, like that flew at him. He doesn’t know any more whether that was true or not, doesn’t want to think about it either way. He says – careful again, remembering those texts – ‘Doesn’t exactly come out of the blue.’
‘She’d never been in love before. You were the first. Did you know that, too?’
‘She might’ve mentioned it. I don’t remember.’
‘So,’ Steve says, ‘if she was head over heels with you, why was she having a romantic dinner with some other guy?’
McCann’s good. It’s only because I’m looking for it that I catch the snap of pain, quick and savage as a muzzle-flash. ‘Who knows. Women are mental.’
‘OK,’ I say, tapping the edge of my mug and frowning at it. ‘Let’s think it through. Aislinn was in love with you, but not vice versa. Right?’
McCann’s got his control back. He snorts. ‘Jesus. Nah. She was a good girl, good company. The sex was great. That’s all there was to it.’
‘Did she know you felt that way?’
‘I’d more sense than to say it to her, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘But she might’ve suspected. She wasn’t stupid.’
‘Might’ve. I wouldn’t know.’
‘If she suspected,’ Steve says, ‘she would’ve been devastated. First love: it’s powerful stuff. That didn’t bother you?’
We’re picking up the pace. McCann hasn’t missed it: his back’s straightened, there’s a focused blue flash to his eyes. For a second there I see him twenty years ago, all cheekbone ridges and dark stubble and those long-distance blue eyes, and I see why he still thought he might have a shot with Aislinn.
He says, ‘I wasn’t out to hurt her. But I wasn’t there to babysit, either. Aislinn was a grown woman.’
‘So could that be what her little thing with Rory was all about, yeah?’ I ask. ‘Trying to make you jealous?’
Shrug. ‘Doubt it. Seeing as I didn’t know he existed.’
‘She kept texts from him on her phone. She might’ve been betting you’d read them.’
That raw flush again, the minuscule flinch of his head. ‘Even if I had. Wouldn’t have worked, and Aislinn had enough cop-on to know that.’
‘Maybe she was using Rory as a distraction?’ Steve suggests. I know, sure as I know where my hands are, that he’s picked up on where I’m heading, he’s right beside me. ‘Trying to take her mind off you?’
‘Could’ve been.’
‘Meaning she did suspect you weren’t in as deep as she was.’
‘Could’ve done. She never mentioned it.’
I ask, ‘Did she ever talk about you leaving your wife?’
‘It came up. Nothing serious, just a mention.’ He’s stepping carefully again: the texts.
‘And what did you say?’
‘Brushed it off. Changed the subject. She didn’t push it.’
‘Huh,’ I say. I lean back in my chair, have a swallow of my tea – gone cold – and take out my phone. I go into my e-mail, taking my time, and find the Post-it photos from Aislinn’s secret folder.
Civilians’ eyes dive on anything you bring out; they can’t stop themselves. McCann’s don’t move from my face. I put my phone on the table in front of him. The small click of it going down snips at the air.
McCann waits till I sit back before he looks down. His face doesn’t change, but I feel the pulse of bafflement and wariness off him.
I say, ‘There’s more of them. Swipe.’
He swipes, keeps swiping. Something else stirs, under the bafflement: a wretched twist of pain and something almost like joy. McCann thinks he’s seeing proof that he got it all wrong; that Rory meant nothing to Aislinn. She was mad about him, after all.
After a dozen or so pics he takes a fast breath and shoves the phone back across the table. ‘I get the idea.’
I say, ‘Are these the notes you wrote to Aislinn, to let her know when you’d be calling round?’
Shrug. McCann settles back in his chair, hands shoved easily in his pockets, but the taut stillness holding every muscle gives him away. We’re building up to the big push, and he knows it.
‘I don’t have to be a handwriting expert to know these are consistent with your writing,’ I say, ‘but I can get one to confirm it for me if I have to. I can also pull your shift times for the last six months and cross-check them against the times and dates when Aislinn entered those photos into her computer. I’ll bet my paycheque every one of those notes will line up with a time when you were just coming out of work, or just going in.’
‘So maybe they’re my notes. So? I already told you I wrote them.’
‘And made sure to destroy them,’ Steve says. He’s picked up my phone and he’s skimming through the pictures. ‘You thought, anyway.’
‘Only Aislinn had other ideas,’ I say. McCann’s eyes close against that for an instant. ‘Every time you left her a note, she took a photo, put it on her computer – in a special password-protected folder – and deleted the phone pic. Why would she go to all that hassle?’
Shrug. ‘How would I know?’
‘If you had to guess.’
‘Souvenirs?’
That gets a laugh out of me. ‘You serious?’ I take the phone off Steve and wave it at McCann. ‘This is what you think a girl keeps for a souvenir?’
‘I don’t know what girls do and don’t do.’
‘Trust me. It’s not. So what was Aislinn at?’
After a moment McCann says, ‘She could’ve been thinking of showing them to my missus.’
‘You said she was happy with the way things were. Why would she want to do that?’