Clearly the implications of what they had told Jonathan had finally sunk in, and he began fidgeting nervously with the edge of the table. He must have realised by now that he might be suspected of having committed the murder, or at least of being involved in it in some way. But if it was possible his anxiety was prompted by the prospect of being unjustly accused of murder, it might equally well be due to guilt, and fear that the police would discover the truth.

Ian and Geraldine had no option but to wait for a duty solicitor to arrive.

‘Am I being arrested?’ Jonathan demanded, in a tone that sounded almost triumphant.

‘We simply want to ask you some questions. Whether or not you’re arrested on a murder charge remains to be seen,’ Ian replied.

The duty brief arrived after a couple of hours, a twitchy young woman with mousy hair who sat listening in silence throughout most of the interview.

‘Where were you on Tuesday evening between seven and midnight?’ Ian asked.

Jonathan shrugged. ‘I can’t remember,’ he muttered. ‘Probably at home.’

‘Were you alone?’

Jonathan glanced at the lawyer. ‘Given that I can’t remember where I was, it’s hard to answer that.’

‘My client has stated that he doesn’t remember where he was on the evening in question,’ the lawyer added unhelpfully.

‘Tell us about your relationship with David Armstrong,’ Geraldine said.

‘There was no relationship. I didn’t know the man.’

‘You were witnessed heckling him in public and verbally assaulting him in a car park,’ Ian pointed out.

‘Yes, I know who he is – who he was,’ Jonathan replied. ‘I didn’t meet him in any personal way. I just disagreed with his policies and everything he stood for: middle-class privilege, private wealth, and social injustice. It was nothing personal. We clashed on points of principle.’ He glanced at his lawyer. ‘That’s all. I detested him in an impersonal kind of way, like I detest most of the politicians in government and on the council. But just because I find their policies abhorrent doesn’t mean I intend to go around killing them.’

‘Yet you focused your attacks on David Armstrong alone,’ Ian pointed out. ‘He was the target for your aggression.’

‘Hardly aggression,’ Jonathan said. ‘I might have raised my voice a few times, but that’s what you do when you heckle at a public meeting. There’s no point if other people can’t hear what you’re saying. And surely the whole point of such meetings and so-called consultations is to give members of the public a chance to air their views?’

Ian leaned forward. ‘Did you ever visit Mr Armstrong at home?’

Jonathan shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. I don’t even know where he lives. We weren’t exactly on visiting terms.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Not what you might call friends.’

‘What about the letter you sent to his home?’ Ian asked.