‘I thought she was. Doesn’t mean I was right.’
‘You told us you were being careful in case Aislinn “got too attached and blew the whole thing wide open”.’ I spin my phone on the table. ‘Looks like you were right to be careful.’
‘Not careful enough,’ Steve points out.
‘Looks to me,’ I say, ‘like Aislinn was making plans. She figured if your wife found out, she’d give you the boot, and you’d come running straight into Aislinn’s arms—’
‘Would your missus have given you the boot?’ Steve asks.
‘Nah.’
Steve’s eyebrows go up. ‘Nah?’
‘No way.’
‘Man, you said earlier she’d throw you out if she even knew you were going for drives with Aislinn. If she found out you’d been riding her, for months—’
‘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.’
‘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 emailed 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?’
‘Are you not going to caution me?’
‘If you want. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything you do say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence.’ That gets another vicious huff of laughter. ‘Where were you Saturday evening?’
‘None of your business.’
Which is smart: no alibi means nothing we can break. ‘“No comment,” ’ I say. ‘Is that what you’re telling us?’
‘No. I’m telling you it’s none of your bloody business.’
‘What’ll your wife say when we ask her whether you were home?’
‘Only one way to find out.’
Steve says, leaning forward, ‘We’re not trying to catch you out here, man. We’re asking. If you can prove where you were, we can stop this whole thing. We’ll find a way that none of this ever has to come out. But we can’t do that unless we know the story.’
McCann throws him a stare like he can’t believe Steve actually tried that one on him. ‘I’ve got nothing to say about Saturday night. Except I never hurt Aislinn. That’s it. We can stay here all year and that’s all I’ll have to say to you.’