Fry felt unreasonably disappointed that Elder was only admitting to the diesel being stolen.

‘You see, the thing is, Mr Elder, we checked your record on the Police National Computer, and we discovered that you have a conviction for the use of illegal fuel.’

‘Ah, well.’

‘And that wasn’t stolen fuel, but laundered red diesel.’

‘That was just a one-off, you know. I thought I’d get away with it, just using it once, but the Excise turned up in the wrong place and they caught me out. I held my hand up for it and got a fine.’

‘It’s quite a common offence in these parts, it seems,’ said Fry.

‘I wouldn’t know about that.’

‘Red diesel is sold to farmers and people like them for use in off-road vehicles. Tractors and so on. As a farmworker by trade, I expect you know lots of farmers.’

‘Yes, I do. But –’

‘Tell me, Mr Elder, isn’t it the truth that the diesel you’re helping your friend to sell isn’t from the haulage firm at all, but red diesel that is being laundered somewhere for sale to motorists?’

‘I can’t answer that.’

‘There’s a huge mark-up, I believe. Plenty of commission on sales, if there’s a sizeable operation going on somewhere. We need you to tell us where that laundering operation is, Mr Elder.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Have you ever been to Pity Wood Farm, sir?’

‘Oh – Pity Wood?’

‘Pity Wood Farm. It was the home of the Sutton family until recently. I’m sure you know it. Have you ever been there?’

‘No, I haven’t,’ said Elder, dropping his gaze to the table and fiddling with his beard.

‘Are you quite sure?’

‘Sure.’

‘Only, we do have a witness who says he’s seen you going in and out of the farm in your lorry many times.’

‘Well, he’s lying,’ said Elder. ‘Whoever he is, he’s lying. I know the Suttons, of course I do. But I only ever met them in the pub. I was never at that farm.’

‘You know your answer is being recorded, Mr Elder?’

‘Yes. Well, I mean … I think I should have a solicitor.’

‘You’ll get one,’ said Fry. ‘But it might take some time. It’s nearly Christmas, you know.’

An officer knocked on the door. Fry paused the interview and went out. He passed her a message.

‘Oh, interesting.’

She went back in, and found Elder watching her hopefully in a vain expectation that she might be coming back to tell him it was all a big mistake and he could leave.

‘On quite another matter, Mr Elder,’ she said, ‘do you know a place called Godfrey’s Rough?’

Elder looked confused by the change in the direction of questioning.

‘Where?’

‘Godfrey’s Rough picnic site. I believe it’s a well-known dogging area.’