‘Are you a fucking film critic?’ asks Reuben, getting to his feet.

‘No, I’m studying film making at university, but I don’t need a degree to have an opinion.’

‘True,’ Reuben fires back, ‘and you are perfectly entitled to one. The studio insisted on that particular aspect of the scene. I, if you must know, wanted to remain true to the book. Jason here,’ he points to the huge American in the front row, ‘works for the studio. He’s the man with the money and, in essence, he has the final say. And in this business, money talks.’

‘So you’re saying he’s to blame?’

Jay swivels in his chair and eyeballs Ben, who seems to shrink a little.

‘Look pal,’ his American accent booming in the small room. ‘No one’s to blame. I’m very proud of that movie and it made a lot of money at the box office.’

‘Money doesn’t equal success,’ retorts Ben.

Knowing Jay’s temperament, I wonder if Ben is putting himself in an unenviable position without realising. On cue, Jay rises to his feet and takes a step towards Ben.

‘Get the fuck outta here you little punk!’ he shouts, ‘before I make you!’

Ben looks visibly shaken, which is perfectly natural considering Jay’s mass. He grabs his bag from under his seat and moves towards the door. He opens his mouth and it looks like he is going to leave with a parting shot but seemingly thinks better of it and slinks down the staircase without another word.

‘OK,’ says Ed, ‘I think we best leave it there for tonight.’

A few disappointed groans ring out.

‘Thank you very much for coming. There is a leaflet downstairs with information about how to win tickets to the premiere of Hell Hammer.’

It’s almost imperceptible but when he says the name of the film, I could swear he grimaces.

‘I realise we haven’t done the Q and A, so if anyone has anything to ask, I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes and will be happy to answer any questions.’

He taps a few buttons on the computer, gets up from his seat, waves at the applauding crowd and leaves through the side door. Reuben follows him without as much as one last look at the audience.

Tom and I mill around the downstairs area waiting for Ed to finish talking to his legion of fans. He spends a generous amount of time answering questions, signing books and posing for selfies. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Ben through the window, loitering outside the shop with a cigarette in his hand.

‘Tom, I’m just going to grab Ben and find out if he knows anything about Anna. I know it’s a long shot,’ I say, gauging his reaction, ‘but, at the minute, we’ve not got a suspect which means everyone is a suspect. Anything is worth a go.’

He nods his head.

‘Fair point. You talk to Ben and I’ll wait for Ed to finish with his fan club and get him to come down to the station to finally answer a few questions.’