The detectives sighed. Time was of the essence in any interview, because they had only a limited period of time to hold somebody before they had to let them go. Anything not forensic, or not corroborated by a witness, counted as merely circumstantial, so they either needed a suspect to crack or for the lab results to arrive quickly. As somebody who’d been on the wrong side of the law, Leo Brown would know this, as well as their limits concerning interview protocol.

The vehicle in question still hadn’t been located. By now, it could have easily been stripped of its plates and spray-painted, or even torched in some field. The plates caught on CCTV were different to those that Graeme Millar had reported on the van parked in Portinscale, but Millar had remembered one small detail that linked the two: the graffiti scrawled in the filth on the back. It matched what one of George Murphy’s neighbours had reported about the van parked outside his house. The graffiti was memorable; it read: I wish my wife was this dirty. Then underneath, in a different style: She was last night.

One of the detectives read the words out to Leo, who smirked back at them.

‘Leo, the ballistics team have come back to us, and the Glock found at your aunt’s place matches the murder weapon used to kill George Murphy. For the purposes of the tape, the suspect is being shown evidence number LB/02.’ It was a photograph of the Glock, next to a crushed slug. Leo wondered if the pellet had stayed in George’s brain. If it had, it was bad luck.

‘No comment.’

‘Do you keep in touch with any of your army pals, Leo?’

‘I said I want a lawyer.’

‘Sure, but we may as well have a chat while we find you one.’

‘Nice try. No comment.’

An officer came into the room and passed a piece of paper to one of the detectives. They smiled at one another and Leo watched them. He knew the look: they had something. He yawned again.

‘We’ve had some lab results sped up in your honour, Leo. Do you want to know what we’ve got?’

He sat up straight and rubbed his face with his hands. ‘Sure, why not?’

‘Your fingerprints were found inside George Murphy’s house, as well as in the downstairs toilet at Allerdale House, on Derwent Water. Now can you tell us why that might be? Cumbria’s a long way from home. And why would you be in George Murphy’s house? You’ve told us you didn’t know him.’