Rory gives me a red-eyed, accusing stare. He says, ‘You knew all along. That I’ve been seeing Aislinn. That I was going to her house last night. You knew.’
Bless his middle-class little heart. He’s genuinely miffed that officers of the force would deceive him. I say, ‘Yeah. We did. I know that was a shitty thing to do to you, but we’re investigating a murder here, and sometimes the only way to get the info we need is by doing things that aren’t ideal. If we’d told you what was up, you might have gone cagey on us, and we couldn’t risk that. You might know something vital, even if you don’t realise it.’
‘I’ve told you everything I know.’
He’s actually in a sulk with me. I sit back in my chair and glance at Steve, handing over.
‘You think you have,’ Steve says, ‘but that was before you knew what’s happened. What I’ve found is, a shock like that, it can shake people’s memories loose. Could you do me a favour and have another think back over last night? Just in case?’
Rory looks him over suspiciously, but Nice Boy Next Door gives him an earnest hopeful gaze back and Rory decides my bad behaviour isn’t Steve’s fault. He’s all primed to like Steve anyway, just for not being Breslin. ‘I suppose. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t—’
‘Ah, brilliant,’ Steve says. ‘Even the smallest thing could help us out. Did you notice anyone you can describe, while you were in Stoneybatter? Hear anything odd? Anything at all stand out to you?’
‘Not really. I’m not very observant to begin with, and last night I was concentrating on . . . on Aislinn. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything else.’
‘Oh, yeah. I’ve been there. When you’re just starting a relationship, specially one that’s taking off like yours was, nothing else even exists.’
Steve is smiling, and it pulls a twitch that’s almost a smile out of Rory. ‘That’s it exactly. You know what the weather was like, yesterday: it was a rotten evening, I was freezing, a tree dumped rain down the back of my collar . . . But I felt like I was in a wonderful story. The smell of turf-smoke, and the rain falling through the light of the streetlamps . . .’
‘See? That’s what I’m talking about: you remember more than you thought. And you were in Stoneybatter for a full hour, right? Half-seven to half-eight. You must’ve seen someone.’
And there it is again: the sudden involuntary twist to Rory’s neck, the jab at his glasses. Steve brings up that extra time, and all of a sudden Rory doesn’t like this game. That blood-smell hits the back of my nose again. The lift of Steve’s head tells me he smells it too.
Rory’s memory comes back: anything to distract us. ‘I did, actually. I passed three women on Prussia Street, when I was on my way to Tesco. They were dressed like they were going out, and two of them had hair like Aislinn’s, long and blond and straight – that’s why I noticed them. They were sharing an umbrella and laughing. And when I got off the bus there were a bunch of boys in hoodies kicking a football on Astrid Road, around the corner from Aislinn’s house – they didn’t stop when I got close, so I had to step onto the street and dodge around them. But I don’t see how any of them could be . . .’
Steve nods away like this is crucial info. ‘You never know. They might’ve seen something. It’s all good stuff.’ I scribble in my notebook, crucial-info-style. There’s a decent chance all these people are imaginary. ‘Anyone else? Anything else?’
Rory shakes his head. Steve waits, but nothing else pops out. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘What about your conversations with Aislinn? Take a second and think back over those. Did she ever mention anyone who bothered her? Someone at work who was a bit creepy, maybe? An ex who wouldn’t take no for an answer?’
Rory is shaking his head.
‘OK. Was there anything that seemed to make her uncomfortable? She ever get a bit cagey when any particular subject came up?’
‘Actually . . .’ Rory has relaxed again, now that we’ve moved away from the hot spot. ‘Yes. When it came to her parents, Aislinn was . . . Something was odd. She told me they were both dead – she said her dad died in a car accident when she was little, and her mum had MS for a long time and finally died of it a few years back . . . ?’
He glances back and forth between us, hoping we’ll give him a yes or a no. We don’t.
‘But she seemed very uncomfortable talking about it, and she changed the subject straightaway. It could have been just because we didn’t know each other that well yet, but I wondered if maybe there was more to the story – like if one of them was still alive, but with some problem, like I said. I mean, obviously I wasn’t about to ask, but . . . I wondered.’
This isn’t what Steve’s angling for. ‘Right,’ he says. ‘Interesting; we’ll definitely check it out. Anything else?’
Rory shakes his head. ‘That’s the only thing I can think of.’
‘You’re positive? I’m not joking: any little thing could make a difference. Anything.’
There’s a moment’s silence. Rory catches his breath to say something; then he lets it out again. He isn’t looking at Steve any more.
Steve waits, watching him, easy and interested as a pal in a pub. Rory says, suddenly and unwillingly, ‘I just wish I knew what else you’re not telling me.’
‘Course you do,’ Steve says matter-of-factly. ‘All I can say is, we don’t keep things back just for the laugh. We’re doing it to catch the person who killed Aislinn.’
Rory’s eyes come up, with an effort, to meet Steve’s. He asks, ‘Am I a suspect?’ And he braces himself for the answer.
Steve says, ‘Right now, everyone who had any kind of connection with Aislinn is a potential suspect. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by trying to claim you’re the exception.’
Rory must have known, but it still lights him up with fear. ‘I never even saw her last night. And I cared about her, I thought we were going to – why would I—’
Whatever he was thinking about telling us, it’s gone. ‘Fair enough,’ Steve says reasonably, ‘but we have to figure everyone we talk to is going to say the same thing. And one person’s going to be lying. We’d be only delighted to eliminate you – the faster we narrow it down, the better – but we can’t do it just on your word. You can see that, right?’
‘Then how do you do it?’
‘Evidence. We always need fingerprints, and on this case we’re also asking for coats and gloves – obviously I can’t tell you why, but they should go a long way towards crossing you off our list. You’re all right with that, yeah? We can hang on to those?’ Steve nods at Rory’s gear.
Rory’s taken aback, but Steve hasn’t left him much choice. ‘I guess – I mean . . . yes, OK. I’ll get them back, right?’
‘Course,’ Steve says, reaching across the table to hook the gloves across with his pen. ‘It might take a few days, just. OK if we have a look in your apartment for any others that we might need to eliminate?’