The enormous office, with another huge chandelier, had the same thick maroon carpet but with floor-to-ceiling bookcases lining the walls and a bay window that looked out onto a large garden. In front of the window was one of the biggest desks Spencer had ever seen, in dark mahogany with lion claw feet and ornately carved legs. It was completely bare except for three telephones. The leather desk chair was empty. The two men were standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the room when one of the bookcases suddenly opened and an Alfred Hitchcock lookalike, with bulbous eyes and prominent jowls, came into the room, from what appeared to be an en suite bathroom. He gave a brief nod.

‘Must have eaten something last night,’ he grunted.

He sat down heavily in the desk chair and indicated for them to take a seat. Both the chairs were at quite a distance from the desk. Collins took the initiative and pushed one closer to the desk, and Spencer did the same. Max Summers opened one of the drawers and opened a packet of indigestion tablets.

‘What do you want from me?’ he asked.

Collins leaned forward. ‘We are investigating the death of Charles Foxley—’

Summers interrupted him gruffly. ‘I know that, but I don’t understand how I can be of any assistance. I did business with the man, but I have no idea why he was murdered. I never mixed with Mr. Foxley on a social level, apart from when we were organizing a premiere, but then my brother Ivor handles that side of the business.’

‘You had considerable investments in Mr. Foxley’s independent film projects,’ Collins said.

‘That is correct, but to be honest with you, my brother is the creative one. He runs the film company, and I have always taken my brother’s advice in terms of investing in film projects. It was after I was approached by Mr. Foxley for an investment that I suggested he meet with my brother – that’s how their relationship began.’

Spencer noted that he had small hands with polished nails folded over his protruding stomach.

‘Your business, Mr. Summers, is predominantly in property development?’

‘That is correct. I also own a number of high-end restaurants and apartments. The movie business isn’t really my thing.’ He pursed his lips, emitting an odd, high-pitched giggle. ‘To be perfectly honest, I’m being constantly told off for falling asleep at premieres of the films my brother produces. But my wife loves all the glitz and glamour of these occasions.’ He gestured towards a large silver-framed photograph on the wall. ‘That’s my wife, taken at last year’s Oscars.’