‘No, but that’s why he got his nickname, you see. He’s always having a slash somewhere. Round the back of the building. In the lorry park. Over by the hedge there. It got to be a joke that any time you went round a corner, there was Keith having a slash. One day the ministry inspectors were here, and they saw him at it. He got a real ticking off then. Head office wanted me to sack him. But he’s harmless really. Since then, he’s had to put up with everyone calling him Slasher, though. It’s become quite a joke, I can tell you.’

‘I’m positively splitting my sides, as you can see, sir.’

The manager looked at her. ‘Well, you have to be a part of it to appreciate it, I suppose. You develop a peculiar sort of sense of humour working here.’

‘So I gather.’

When they finally located Keith Teasdale, he was digging a solidified mass of dead leaves out of a drain cover behind the abattoir. There was a curious smell on this side of the building, more reminiscent of a butcher’s shop than a hospital. But the brush Teasdale clutched in one hand looked particularly unthreatening.

‘I’ve already told you I’ve been up to Warren Leach’s place,’ he said.

‘Known him for long?’ asked Cooper.

‘Yes, years. How old is his eldest lad, Will? Eleven? I remember when he was just a nipper. He wanted to help me with the rats once, because he took a liking to the terriers. But his dad stopped him coming near me. He always was a bit of a sour bugger, Warren.’

‘Would you say you know him well?’

‘No one knows Warren well. It doesn’t do to get too close to him. Nasty temper, he has.’

Teasdale folded his hands over the end of his brush. His fingers that had turned brown and creased and faintly shiny, matching his corduroy trousers.

‘But you’re still doing work for him. You were at Ringham Edge Farm on Sunday,’ pointed out Cooper.

‘I was. But Warren sent me packing, like I said. No money to pay for rodent control, he said. Can you believe it? That’s no good on a farm, no good at all. You can’t have rats round a milking parlour. It should be clean, like this place is.’

‘When was the last time you went before that?’

Teasdale rolled his eyes and chewed the tips of his moustache. ‘Can’t remember exactly. It’d be a month or two, anyway. Is it important, then? Am I a witness?’

‘Have you noticed anything unusual going on at the farm?’ asked Fry.

‘Unusual? There’s nothing much usual about Warren Leach.’

‘What about Mrs Leach? Do you know her?’