‘Or,’ Breslin says, ‘they were never in the bins at all: Rory Boy tossed them in the river, because he didn’t want us pulling Aislinn’s blood or hair or carpet fibres off them. Where are we on her KAs?’
‘She didn’t have any immediate family, or much of a social life,’ I say, ‘but her friend Lucy gave us a few names and numbers to start us off. Someone needs to go round to Aislinn’s workplace, get her boss to come in and ID the body, and have the chats with all her colleagues. I want to know if she talked about Rory, and what she said.’
Steve says, ‘And we need to know if any of the colleagues had a thing for her. Just on the off-chance that Rory’s telling the truth’ – Breslin snorts – ‘someone might not have been happy that Aislinn had got herself a fella. And her colleagues were the only people she spent any amount of time with.’ Nice touch. If anyone spots us doing something that doesn’t point to Rory, we’ve got a potential stalker colleague to take the heat. It might even turn out to be true.
‘Why don’t you two cover the office romance,’ Breslin says. ‘Feminine intuition, and all that jazz.’
‘Mine’s in the shop,’ I say. ‘Transmission went. We’ll just have to go with actual detective work. Deasy, Stanton, you head over there first thing tomorrow.’
‘The other place Aislinn spent time was at evening classes,’ Steve says. ‘She could have picked up a stalker there. We need someone to work out what classes she took, make lists of all the other students or whatever they call them.’
‘Gaffney, you take that,’ I say. ‘Me and Moran will handle Aislinn’s phone records, e-mails, social media, all that—’
‘I can make a start on that tonight,’ Breslin says. ‘I don’t mind staying a few hours late, if that’ll help put this case to bed, but I can’t exactly show up at Rory’s KAs’ houses at nine in the evening looking for chats. I might as well get cracking on the vic’s social life.’
My look clicks against Steve’s for a split second, before his head goes down over his notebook. Breslin could just be trying to buff up his stellar rep – everyone always wants the vic’s electronics, because more often than not, there’s something good in there – or he could be looking to make me into the loser who couldn’t find her own evidence. Or he could need to get rid of anything in there that points to a gangster pal.
Meehan has stopped writing and is looking back and forth between us, uncertain. ‘Me and Moran have already started on it,’ I say. ‘We’ve been in since last night and we need to catch a few hours’ kip, but we’ll get back onto Aislinn’s electronics first thing tomorrow morning. You’ve started on Rory Fallon, Detective Breslin; you might as well stick with him. We need someone to make a list of his exes and see what they’ve got to say about him, specially about what winds him up and what he’s like when he doesn’t get his way. If you can stay late tonight, why don’t you get the ball rolling on that.’
Breslin has on a face like he’s found a hair in his soup and knows the waiter is too useless to fix it. ‘Why don’t I do that.’
‘Great,’ I say. After a moment, Meehan’s pen starts moving again. ‘Detective Gaffney: first murder case, am I right?’
‘It is, yeah.’ He’s from somewhere involving sheep.
‘OK,’ I say, sending the gaffer a mental thank-you for not bothering to get us floaters with actual experience. ‘You stick close to Detective Breslin for now; he’ll show you the ropes, help you get the hang of this.’ Breslin nods pleasantly at Gaffney, no objections, but that means nothing. ‘Can you stay late tonight, yeah?’
Gaffney sits up even straighter. ‘I can, of course.’
‘Anyone who can’t?’ No one moves. ‘Good. We need someone to pull Aislinn’s financials – Gaffney, start on that; you’ll need to go through them anyway, for her evening-class payments.’
Breslin sighs, just loud enough to make it clear that I’m wasting valuable time and resources. Steve says, to everyone, ‘We don’t have a motive yet. The romance gone bad is the obvious one, but we can’t rule out a financial angle. Rory mentioned that his bookshop’s been having a hard time; and Aislinn’s mate Lucy Riordan said she had a bit of cash stashed away. Rory could have asked her to put a few grand into the bookshop and got nasty when she turned him down, something like that.’
Breslin shrugs. He’s started doodling on the corner of his notebook.
‘We’ll need Rory’s financials, too,’ I say. ‘Gaffney, pull those while you’re at it. Someone needs to get onto the phone company and start them tracking where Fallon’s phone went last night: Deasy, got a decent contact at Vodafone? Someone to confirm Lucy Riordan’s alibi with the rest of the staff at the Torch Theatre: Stanton, you handle that. Someone to talk to the staff at the Market Bar and Pestle, see if they can tell us anything about Aislinn and Rory’s dates: Meehan, yeah? Someone to assign one of the uniforms from the scene to go to the autopsy: Deasy, you do that. It’ll be early tomorrow morning; make sure he’s not late, or Cooper will throw a shit fit.’ Snorts from everyone who’s met Cooper. ‘Me and Moran will follow up with the techs, make sure we’re kept updated. There’ll be more, but those should get us started. Any questions?’
Head-shakes. They’re fidgeting at the starting line.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Let’s go.’Meehan claps the book of jobs shut. They swing to their desks, their phones, to Rory’s statement, diving to see who can hit the ground running fastest. Incident Room C leaps with the energy ricocheting off the shining rows of desks, splintering on the windows.
And underneath all that, hidden and working away, the small ferocious buzzing of the thing at the back of my mind and Steve’s, nudging for us to let it loose. Breslin’s slick fair head is bent over his notebook, but when he feels me looking he glances up and gives me a great big smile.