‘Exactly the type. And a Murder D would be worth top dollar to a gang boss.’
Breslin wears good suits, but we all do. He drives a 2014 BMW and he bangs on about how his kids go to private school because he’s not having them surrounded by skangers and immigrants who can barely speak English – and that’s just the skangers, ha ha ha, no offence, Conway, Moran – but I always figured Daddy and Mummy were bankrolling him. He takes his family to the Maldives for holidays, but if I’d cared enough to think about it, I would’ve assumed he’d squared a few penalty points for his bank manager in exchange for a sky-high credit-card limit and no pressure to pay it off.
Me and Steve have been wanting an interesting case. This could be a lot more interesting than we bargained for.
Steve says, ‘And if he’s the one who fed Crowley his info, that would explain why.’
Enough mud in the water can take you a long way towards reasonable doubt. The air twitches, in the corners.
And I can’t keep the grin off my face.
If Steve’s right, then there’s some high-level danger headed our way, from a bunch of directions at once. Gangs don’t kill cops, it would draw too much hassle, but they don’t have a problem firebombing your car to tell you to back off. And that’s small-time, compared to what the lads will do if we dob Breslin in to Internal Affairs.
I can’t wait for them all to bring it on. Danger doesn’t bother me; I’ll eat danger with a spoon. Breslin the puffed-up little tosspot, trying to twist me like a balloon animal, he made me feel like I was in a straitjacket and writhing to punch him. But Breslin the bent cop: he’s a dare, a bad poison dare that no one with sense should take, and I’ve always had a thing for dares.
Steve’s eyeing me like I’ve lost it. ‘What? What’s funny?’
‘Nothing. I like a challenge.’
‘So you think I’m right. You think he’s . . .’ Steve doesn’t finish.
That sobers me up a notch. ‘I don’t know yet. We’re way into the hypothetical here. I don’t like hypotheticals.’ I bite down on one thumb to get rid of the grin. ‘All we know for definite is, Breslin wants this guy charged and the case closed, ASAP. We need to stall till we’ve got a handle on why. What you came up with back there, about doing our own dirty work: that was good. That should buy us some time.’
The twist to Steve’s mouth doesn’t look convinced. ‘You think he went for it?’
‘Not sure. I think so. I hope so.’ The memory of Breslin’s cold stare makes me bite down harder. ‘Either way, that’s the line we stick to: we’re the thicko rookies who don’t get how things work around here, and we want to do our case our way. Are you OK with that?’
Part of me expects Steve to squirm away. There’s a decent chance that the bullshit here is all about me; as long as he plays it right, he can sidestep the blast and slot right into the squad once I’m a smoking crater, but he’ll blow his chance if he convinces Breslin he’s an idiot. But he grins. ‘I can manage thicko rookie.’
‘Right up your alley,’ I say. The relief hits me harder than I want to think about. ‘No acting required.’
‘Hey, you use what you’ve got.’ Steve tilts a thumb at the one-way glass. ‘What do we do with him?’
Rory has finished his cry. He’s getting antsy, popping his head up to peer worriedly around like a specky meerkat, wondering where we’ve disappeared to. He should be the biggest thing in our day. I practically forgot he existed.
I say, ‘We have one more go. Like we told Breslin we would.’
‘That means leaving Breslin to talk to his KAs. You think that’s safe?’
If Breslin’s looking to fuck up either Rory or me, there are a dozen ways that Rory’s pals could be a pure gift to him. I say, ‘Probably not, but what the hell, let’s live dangerously. It was the only way I could think of to get rid of him. And I don’t want him in with Fallon any longer. Fallon can’t take being pushed around; if Breslin shoves him any more, he’s gonna walk. And whether he’s our guy or not, I don’t want him thinking we’re big scary bullies out to get him. Not yet, anyway.’
‘“Whether or not,” ’ Steve says. ‘You’re not sure any more?’
I lift one shoulder. ‘I was when I came out of there. Not a hundred per cent, but almost. There’s something dodgy about him getting to Stoneybatter early – he didn’t like talking about it, did you spot that?’
‘Yeah. But the reaction when you told him Aislinn was dead: that looked real to me.’
‘To me, too. But even if it was, that doesn’t say he’s innocent.’ Rory’s got his sodden tissue between finger and thumb and he’s looking around for somewhere to put it. He gives up and tucks it in his pocket. I say, ‘He might not have known he’d killed her. He throws the punch, she goes down, but when he checks her pulse or her breathing she’s still alive; so he turns off the cooker to make sure the place won’t burn down around her, and he legs it. He thinks she’s just got a concussion or whatever; he spends the night praying it’s knocked the memory right out of her head. And when he finds out she’s dead, and all of a sudden he’s staring down the barrel of a murder charge, he nearly shits himself.’
‘That’d play,’ Steve says.
‘When I came out of there, I would’ve put money on it. But now . . .’ Rory half-stands up, then sits down again, like standing might not be allowed. I say, ‘You?’
Steve runs a thumbnail along the ribbing of the plastic cup and watches Rory try to stay sitting. ‘The thing is, even if Rory is our guy, that doesn’t mean there’s no secret gangster boyfriend and Breslin’s clean.’ His voice goes down on that. We both glance automatically at the door: nothing. ‘Assume the boyfriend exists, right? Even if he did nothing to Aislinn, he isn’t going to want us sniffing around his business, checking his movements, telling his missus about his bit on the side . . . The second he finds out Aislinn’s dead – if he calls round to her for a quickie late last night, say – he’s going to put in a call to his guy on the inside and tell him to get it sorted, fast.’
‘And the slower we get it sorted,’ I say, ‘the longer we’ve got to find out if there’s something else going on.’ Just saying the words lifts my heart rate.
‘So we stall,’ Steve says.
‘Not stall. Breslin’s right, we don’t need a rep for getting nothing done. We’ll just take it nice and easy. Whatever’s going on here, I don’t want Rory back in till we know every single thing we can get about this case. If we go at him again, I want us going in with enough ammo to blow him away.’
Steve nods. ‘And right now?’
I check my watch: just under an hour till the case meeting. ‘Right now we take him through his story again, see if he’s got anything he wants to tell us, get his coat and gloves, try and convince him to let us go through his flat. Then we send him home and do this case meeting. After that—’