‘But that doesn’t mean he has anything to worry about. He won’t necessarily be arrested.’

‘Necessarily?’

‘I don’t make these decisions,’ said Cooper apologetically. ‘It’ll be decided at a higher level, by a senior officer in discussion with the CPS.’

‘Will you be there when it happens, at least?’

‘I can’t say. I’m sorry.’

Cooper knew that he’d failed to reassure her. But there was nothing else he could say, without going into details of the evidence, which was against all the rules. Of course, he didn’t feel confident enough in the outcome himself, and he couldn’t tell her things he didn’t believe in, could he?

He showed her back to reception and watched her leave the station, pulling up the collar of her jacket when she got outside. Thankfully, there was one thing that Mel Palfreyman hadn’t asked him at all – whether she was likely to be questioned herself.

DI Hitchens caught Cooper as he arrived back upstairs. Cooper could sense that something was up, from the DI’s manner.

‘Oh, Ben, you’ll want to know this. I realize you’ve been involved quite heavily with this aspect of the enquiry.’

‘Sir?’

‘We’ve decided to stop pussy-footing around, and we’ve brought Raymond Sutton in for questioning.’

‘Here? You’ve put that old man in a cell?’

‘No, he’s not under arrest. We’ve put him in an interview room,’ said Hitchens defensively.

Cooper didn’t need to ask, he could guess whose decision this had been. Superintendent Branagh was making her presence felt.

‘Are you sure he’s well enough to be interviewed?’ said Cooper. ‘Sir?’

‘We’ve had him checked over by a doctor, of course. But he’s been passed fit, so we’re about to start questioning.’

‘I’m not happy about it.’

‘Tell you what, Ben,’ said Hitchens, with a placatory gesture. ‘You can sit in, and make sure you’re comfortable with it.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

But as soon as he’d said it, Cooper wondered whether he should really be thanking Hitchens. Who was going to take the blame if this all went wrong?

Raymond Sutton looked at the two detectives with resignation as they sat down at the table in the interview room.

‘You’re going to be asking me about the woman,’ he said directly.

‘The woman?’ said Cooper. ‘Do you mean Nadezda Halak, sir?’

‘I had no connection with her at all,’ said Sutton. ‘Except that I witnessed her death.’

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

Martin Rourke was one of the least attractive men Fry had ever seen, and that was saying something. His head was badly shaved, leaving a short, patchy fuzz all over his skull, like an old tennis ball that had been chewed by the dog.

‘But I know nothing about those women,’ he said.

‘We have evidence that you knew them, Mr Rourke. You can’t deny it.’