Rufus slapped the table. “Sinead!”

“But you can call me Detective Constable Bell,” Sinead told him, and Hamza had to fight the urge to give her a fist bump under the table. “And I’d appreciate it if you answered my question. You didn’t go and see Archie and his family. Why?”

“I was away. Golfing,” Rufus explained.

“All week?” Sinead asked, though she already knew the answer. She was determined to make this difficult for him, not just for his offer of ‘adding a bit of gravitas’ to her parents’ funeral by speaking at it, but for all those years of school visits where he’d bored the arse off everyone in the class.

Rufus sighed pointedly, like this whole thing was a big waste of his time. “No. As I already explained on the phone, I was away for a long weekend. Got back very late on Monday night.”

Hamza tapped the closed folder of notes sitting on the desk in front of him. There was very little in the folder relating to the man being interviewed, but he didn’t know that. “Hold on, you told me you got back on Tuesday morning.”

Rufus dismissed this with a shrug. “Fine. Tuesday morning, then.”

“What do you mean, ‘Fine,’ Mr Boyle?” Sinead asked. “Either it was Monday night or it was Tuesday morning.”

“Or it was shortly after midnight, so both could apply. Which it was. I got in around twelve-fifteen. Which, yes, technically is Tuesday morning, but could also be considered Monday night.”

“I assume you have someone who can verify this?” Sinead asked.

“The golfing weekend or the arrival home time?”

“Both.”

Rufus gave a little roll of his eyes. “Golf weekend, yes. Dozens of people, in fact. And photographic evidence. They’ll also be able to verify when I left, and my wife can confirm what time I arrived home. I’m sure all your Big Brother cameras on the A9 will be able to show me driving up the road, too. Range Rover. Silver. Can’t miss it.”

He spoke the words like a taunt. Range Rover. ‘You’ll never be able to afford one,’ his tone implied. ‘But I can. Aren’t I marvellous?’

“That just leaves Tuesday through to Sunday,” Sinead said, ignoring the obvious jibe.

Rufus frowned. “Sorry?”

“To explain your whereabouts.”

“Why on Earth would I do that?” Rufus asked, his nostrils flaring like the very thought appalled him.

“Because we’re asking you to, Mr Boyle,” Hamza said. “To help us with our investigation.”

“It’s none of your business,” Rufus replied. “I can assure you that I didn’t go to the house. I didn’t speak to Mr Sutherland or any member of his family, and I certainly didn’t kill them. Everything else is none of your concern.”