‘Where do you study?’ I ask, handing the laptop back to Neil.

‘Manchester Uni.’

‘You don’t happen to know a Ben McCall by any chance?’ I take a stab in the dark and a look of confusion flashes across his face.

‘Yeah, I do actually. We’re not friends or anything, but I know him to see. He is in the year below me. How do you know Ben?’

‘What do you know about him?’ I ask, answering his question with a question.

‘Not much, like I said, he’s in the year below me so our paths don’t really cross, though I know there is a fair bit of notoriety about him. Apparently he has submitted a few controversial shorts and has been threatened with expulsion. I’ve heard he has sort of crossed the line with regards to violence and gore and the tutors are getting a bit sick of it.’

I cast a sideways glance at Tom and underline Ben’s name in my notebook.

‘Thanks for your time, Neil. Whether this is a fake or not, we are going to need to take the film in order to examine it. Has anyone else had access to it prior to you?’

‘Only the delivery man, but it’s been under lock and key since I signed for it yesterday. It’s not every day we get to hold a premiere here, especially for a film by a director I love. It’s a shame he didn’t turn up in the end,’ he adds as he begins moving around the room, boxing up the film paraphernalia and handing it to us. I speak into my walkie-talkie and ask for assistance in tagging them and bringing them down to the cars.

I make my way back down the stairs towards the foyer, leaving Tom to supervise the collection of evidence and to make sure that Neil doesn’t tamper with anything.

The crowd has now thinned and there is less of a police presence. I sit down on a bench near the entrance to the miniature golf course and reflect on the craziness of the evening.

I’m still convinced that the film was real and that Reuben is no longer with us, but Neil’s insistence on the contrary and expertise on the matter are niggling at me. Perhaps it is all a set-up; a publicity stunt and I have fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

I search through my bag and take out my phone, navigating through the phonebook until I find Reuben’s phone number. Then I hit dial. To my surprise, it rings, though no one answers and eventually the call ends, with no option to leave a message on his voicemail. I re-enter my phonebook and scroll through the list of names until I find the one I’m looking for - Ross Powell.

Ross Powell is a computer whizz who works in the digital department of the police. What he doesn’t know about all things digital isn’t worth knowing. Even though it’s quite late, he answers within a few rings, his voice bright. There is loud gunfire in the background and I assume he is watching an action film.