Mostly what he felt was uncomfortable. Being on his own in a small space didn’t bother him. For a man who had learned to live on a narrowboat, it was no big deal. The noises-off didn’t bother him either. Working in a secure mental hospital was an inoculation against unexpected and inexplicable human clamour. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty yet, so that wasn’t an issue. But there was no getting away from the discomfort. The bed was hard. There was a thin wafer of foam which he assumed was meant to be a pillow. It was lumpy and peculiarly distorted. Using it was like putting his head on a bag of liquorice allsorts. The physical discomfort made thinking much harder. And thinking was what he needed to do.

When the custody sergeant had closed the door behind him, Tony had almost expected him to throw it open and shout, ‘Surprise!’ That was how hard it was for him to credit what had happened. All through that bizarre interview with Paula and Alex Fielding, part of him had refused to take it seriously. He couldn’t escape the notion that it was either a wind-up or a terrible mistake that he’d be able to put right in no time. Then it had dawned on him that Fielding was serious. Serious as only someone who didn’t know him could be. Serious as only a detective driven by ambition could be.

Paula knew. Paula understood that whatever the physical evidence said, it was impossible to envisage him as a killer. But Paula wasn’t the one making the decisions in that interview room. Paula was on trial too, her loyalty to the new boss under fire. Would she follow blindly where the evidence appeared to lead? Or would her fidelity to the old regime undermine Fielding’s determination to get a quick and spectacular resolution to the case? On the walk down to the cells, she’d indicated she was on his side. But she had to be careful. For both their sakes, it was vital that she didn’t get moved off the investigation. And there was only so much good that she could do by stealth.

Fielding scared him. That rush to judgement, that adamantine certainty that the evidence was king, that unwillingness to twist the Rubik’s cube and look at things from a different angle – they all unsettled him, because there was no room for discussion. It wouldn’t be enough for him to provide an explanation for the physical evidence against him. He’d have to find a reason to direct her hunter-killer instincts towards the real murderer.