I glance at my watch as DCI Bob launches into the introductory spiel. It’s 9:03AM. Rory is sitting opposite me, looking even less composed than last night. His shirt is wrinkled and he looks sweaty, his hair greasy. The darkness under his eyes suggests he hasn’t had a very restful night.

The man sitting next to him, on the other hand, looks ready to go, despite presumably being up most of the night preparing for today. His angular jawline is covered in designer stubble and his dark hair is flecked with grey. His suit looks expensive and the pressed white shirt paired with a light pink tie lend him a sophisticated air.

He introduces himself as James Poole and I’m slightly taken aback by the London accent. Less The Only Way is Essex, more Made in Chelsea.

‘That’s a pretty nasty gash,’ DCI Bob says, pointing at Rory’s now bandaged forearm.

‘It’s nothing,’ replies Rory, dropping his arm to his side and out of view.

‘If you insist,’ DCI Bob says. ‘Right, let’s get started. Why…’

‘Rory, we know about what happened with Luna at the massage parlour,’ I interject.

His eyes widen and he glances at his lawyer, who looks as if he has been blindsided. DCI Bob looks furiously at me for interrupting him.

‘That’s how I got this cut,’ he says, holding up his bandaged arm.

‘Why did you visit there?’ I ask.

He breathes a deep sigh. ‘After Anna died…’

‘You mean, after you murdered Anna,’ DCI Bob states, trying to rile him.

Rory doesn’t rise to the bait.

‘After Anna died,’ he tries again, looking in turn from his lawyer to me, ‘I went to her mother’s house. She was alone and so was I. I thought it would be helpful for both of us. But it was too intense. We talked about Anna and when we didn’t talk about her, we were thinking about her. It was too much. So, I upped one day and left, with the intention of coming back to finish those jobs. I checked into a cheap hotel and stayed in the city centre. I drank a lot. Every morning, once I was sober enough, I’d drive towards her house, but I couldn’t do it. I had to pass the ice rink to get there, and every time, it freaked me out.’

He wipes his nose on the bandage. His eyes drop to the floor as he continues his story.

‘I ended up at some massage place I found online. The first night, I paid some poor girl for sex, but when it came to it, I couldn’t follow through. She was kind and listened to me. It turns out I didn’t want sex, all I wanted was someone to talk to. Someone who hadn’t known Anna.’

‘She said you were talking about a bad thing,’ I state.

He hesitates. ‘When I was in Bradford, I saw a picture of Anna and Reuben together, in that bar. I was furious. I couldn’t believe that she had lied to me when she told me she was having an early night. It hurt. So, I got drunk and slept with some girl I met in the first bar I went to.’