It was a cold morning with a strong, artic wind that reddened his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Frost had yet to melt beneath the trees lining the car park, and he could see his breath between drags on the cigarette.

The diner looked dingy from the outside, and the red décor within glared through the windows. The air was stained with scents from the diner as the door opened and closed as a customer headed towards his car. Richard smoked the cigarette to the butt and ground it beneath his shoe. He spritzed cologne on his neck, chewed a mint to hide the scent of smoke, and headed inside.

The diner was relatively busy, with truckers, businesspeople dressed in suits, and a family crowded around a booth with a baby screaming and red in the face. He spotted his man in the far corner, away from the window.

Harvey Nathan-Lane, if that was his real name, was a man of business. He never spoke of anything but the job, and seemed opposed to greetings or farewells, and instead jumped straight into the task at hand and left when he spoke the last word. He was overweight for his height, with dark ebony skin and black eyes, with wisps of grey in his hair. His eyes and teeth were yellow, with metal fillings at the back of his mouth that shimmered when he parted his lips to more than a mumble.

Richard approached the booth and sat before him.

‘Harvey, thanks for meeting me.’

The man nodded and clasped his hands together on top of the table. A waitress came to take their order and he ushered her away with the wave of his hand.

‘I looked into the deaths of your wife’s parents,’ Harvey said.

‘And?’

‘And your suspicions were correct. There were signs of foul play.’

‘Is there a way to prove who started the fire?’

‘The fire started within the flat. Not a stairwell or a neighbouring property.’

‘The only other person in the flat would have been Amber. Is there any way we can prove she was responsible?’

‘I’m not working to get her sent down – you do what you want with the information I give you. All I’m doing is giving you the facts.’

‘All right, what facts do you have? Is there a possible link between her and the crime?’

‘She was examined by a psychotherapist for two years after the fire, ordered by the court when she was rehomed with her grandmother in the south. That’s not the done thing. Therapy is recommended after a trauma like that, sure, but court-ordered means they wanted to keep an eye on her, or get something out of her. The records kept may hold the answers you’re looking for.’

‘She confessed?’