When Nolan wasn’t forthcoming, McArdle had taunted him. Nolan had gone drinking elsewhere but had returned at closing-time and followed McArdle down a lane. There he had felled McArdle from behind and kicked him in the head until McArdle lay dead in a puddle of cranial blood fed from his ears and nose. McArdle hadn’t known that Nolan was in a corner already, running from a local shark to whom he was in hock fifteen hundred quid. Caught knocking off food, Nolan had also been sacked from his job stocking supermarket shelves. He had run out of friends, run out of a future. Minogue had heard of the shark, Carty, before. Cash Carty and his brother, Shocko, collected debts with legendary brutality.

Nolan glared back under his eyebrows at the Inspector.

“What’s the big bleeding staring match about? Here I am doing your job for you. All I want is a few fags. You got everything you want there, haven’t you? I signed your bleeding statement. I didn’t give yous any run-around. So what’s the big deal?”

He was sure he could take Nolan handily. He was also afraid he’d not stop with the first blow. Nolan frowned and leaned back in the chair. His white boiler suit reminded Minogue of a patient awaiting surgery. Detective Garda Shea Hoey opened the door of the interview room. He looked at Minogue, raised his eyebrows and broke the Inspector’s stare fixed on Nolan. Minogue lurched out into the corridor. Hoey introduced a sleepy-eyed woman in jeans and a leather jacket as Kate Marrinan from Legal Aid. She spoke tonelessly to Minogue.

“Has he made a statement?”

“Yep,” replied Minogue. “Got the caution in front of a witness, signed the waiver.”

Not much older than Iseult, he guessed. Kate Marrinan had short fair hair with a touch of red. She looked at her watch, yawned and swung a shoulder bag around front. Minogue’s anger had ebbed. He wanted real coffee, a chance to chat to Kate Marrinan about her work. Both hopes were long shots and he knew it.