He kept thinking about Bruno’s obsession, ever since he’d come to live with them, with serial killers. But what the hell did strangling his two favourite hens have to do with anything? Anticipating his death? Or what? Was it definitely Bruno or was it someone else who had killed the hens?

A dark thought struck him. Was that just practice, before something on a larger scale? Something human?

Just before 6 a.m., Cleo stirred and reached for her phone.

‘I’m messaging Darren,’ she said. ‘Telling him I won’t be in today. I’ll stay with you here.’

‘Are you sure?’

She kissed him. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I think we’re going to need each other.’

56

Wednesday 4 September

‘You know what this is?’ Niall Paternoster said, tired and ragged after a sleepless night on his narrow bunk and brutal pillow. ‘It’s a stitch-up.’ He was alone with his solicitor in a small interview room at the custody centre.

‘Stitch-up? By who? What do you mean, exactly?’ Joseph Rattigan asked. ‘Are you suggesting the police are fabricating evidence against you?’

Paternoster raised his hands in despair. ‘I don’t know what to think. It’s just crazy – I mean – just crazy.’

‘The evidence against you is not looking good, you’ll have to admit,’ Rattigan said, tapping his bundle of papers. ‘I’m afraid.’

‘Not looking good? You’re my brief! I thought you were meant to be on my side?’ He pointed at the door. ‘If I’ve got that wrong then I need to find someone else.’

‘Please calm down.’

‘Oh, you don’t want to lose your fee, is that it?’

‘Would you like to know what my fee is?’ the solicitor asked.

Paternoster shook his head. ‘All you lawyers, you’re fat cats, that’s what I do know.’

‘My Legal Aid fee is less than £150. That’s for consulting with you yesterday, being present during the interviews with the detectives, meeting with you again today and meeting with you however many more times you need.’

‘Are you serious?’

Rattigan nodded solemnly. ‘That’s the value the Legal Aid Agency place on us.’

Niall did a brief mental calculation. ‘I would have earned more than you driving my cab.’

‘You would, yes. Do you still want me to leave?’

Niall shrugged.

‘So, you dropped your wife off in the car park of the Tesco Holmbush store at around 3.15 p.m. last Sunday and you’ve not seen her since?’

‘Correct. Do you believe me?’

‘If what you’re telling me is the truth, then I believe you.’

Niall looked at him, face on. ‘But you don’t believe me, not really, do you?’

Rattigan sat up straight. ‘I’m not permitted to tell lies, either to police officers or in court. If I act for a client who tells me they are guilty, then my job is to try to reduce their sentence to the best of my ability. If my client tells me they are innocent, then I have to do all I can to prevent them from being convicted. Does that help?’