‘And why did Barry wander away?’

He thought about it.

‘He was ashamed of me. Which is not nice. And ashamed of his son. Which is unforgivable.’ I watched the rage flare up in him. He had the ability that I had seen in many professionally violent men, the facility to turn their anger on and off like a tap. ‘But all that father-and-son stuff is not easy,’ he said. ‘Every generation is softer than the one that came before.’

This surprised me.

‘You really think Steve was softer than his father?’

‘Steve wasn’t as hard as he would have liked to have been. And he wasn’t as hard as I would have liked him to be. If he had been, nobody would have torched his place.’

‘But Barry’s a legitimate businessman. These care homes he runs – Golden Years – are a big success.’

He shrugged, indifferent and unimpressed.

I smiled at him. ‘You don’t fancy ending your days in one of them, Paul?’

He didn’t smile back. ‘I hate all institutions,’ he said. ‘A life sentence does that to you.’

‘I thought you might admire him.’

‘Accountants. Lawyers. Legitimate businessmen. All pay their tax, do they? All keep it clean when their lovely PA is bending over to pick up her stapler? Everybody’s bent, Max. We’re all just bent in our different ways. Admire my son? What for? Because he made a couple of bob out of cheap care homes?’

‘They’re retirement communities, Paul. Tell me about the Champagne Room. It was in Doll’s name, under some shell company – so it turns out you’re the owner of a bar that just burned down.’

Now he laughed.

‘You like me for the fire that killed my grandson, Max? An insurance scam that went wrong – is that the theory in West End Central? Do me a favour!’

‘We don’t have a theory, Paul. It’s not our investigation. Essex Police are running that one. But my mob is looking for whoever put those twelve dead women in a lorry we found in Chinatown. And we know all sorts have been dropped off in that car park behind the Champagne Room.’

‘You know my theory? Someone in Savile Row wants a big scalp on their CV before I fall off my perch.’

I just stared at him. He knew me better than that.

‘Maybe your SIO. What’s her name? The four-eyed little bird. DCI Whitestone.’

‘Come on, Paul. Enough of the hurt feelings. Steve had form and we both know it. I’m sorry for what happened to him, but he was hardly some innocent civilian.’

‘He was a good boy. Trying to stand on his own two feet. Trying to show his dad he could make his mark in the world. That’s why I set him up in his own little business.’

‘Any idea who might have wanted to torch the place?’