He nodded slightly. Glanced at the recording apparatus and whispered, ‘Yes.’

‘And then what?’

Tony swallowed.

‘And then what? I’m not buying this feeble old man act. Tell us what you did next. When did you call Kirsty?’

He shook his head. ‘It was me. I did it all. Not Kirsty. But I only did it for Violet’s own good. She was putting herself in danger.’

‘It’s all right, Tony. We know Kirsty came up with the plan. We know it was her idea to put the blood and hair in the pig troughs. Violet heard you talking to her, remember? Kirsty wanted to make it look like Violet had been fed to pigs. It was very clever of her.’

I saw a flush of parental pride. Unbelievable. He spoke softly. ‘It wasn’t Kirsty’s fault. I did it, not her.’

‘What did she tell you to do?’

‘It was all my idea.’ He was still protecting Kirsty. Denying what she was.

‘Tell us then. What did you do?’

‘He deserved to be punished for what he did to Lucas. He was living on borrowed time. I made it look like he killed Violet.’

I kept my voice steady. ‘Daniel Twigg?’ My misery and anger was so strong I had to clutch the table to steady myself.

Tony nodded. ‘Yes. He killed Lucas. So because of that he deserved to die.’

I wanted to scream at Tony. You stupid, gullible, crazy fucking man. Daniel was a good person. He didn’t deserve to die. Tony didn’t even believe this crap – it had come from Kirsty.

Instead I said calmly, ‘What did you do?’

Tony raised an eyebrow at his solicitor, who nodded. There was really no defence for any of this.

Speaking in little more than a whisper, Tony said, ‘I put gloves on, and overalls and a hat, and foot covers.’

‘Speak up please,’ I said.

Tony coughed. ‘We have foot covers for going into the house in muddy boots. And … er, I shaved off Violet’s hair, and I got some of the big syringes the vet gives us, for taking blood samples from the pigs. The ones with anticoagulant in them. And I …’ He hesitated. ‘I took as much blood from Violet as I could, while she was still drugged with the pig-sedative.’ He looked down at the table and coughed again. ‘She started waking up. I took off all her clothes and her necklace and put everything in a plastic bag.’

This was utterly chilling, but I tried not to react. I wanted him to speak freely. ‘Okay. Then what?’

‘Can we take a break?’ he whispered. He looked dejected, almost as horrified by what he’d done as we were. I was sure Kirsty had come up with this plan, but he was the one who’d carried it out.

‘Not yet,’ I said.

He sighed. ‘I am sorry. I never meant for it to get so out of hand.’