‘Either way, you needed to sort out the situation you were in. Clean up the mess.’ He traced his finger down a column of figures on a sheet in his file. ‘So at 5.34 p.m. you’re on the move again, north-west, and then you stop again for twenty-four minutes. At this point, you switched your phone off – bit late by this point, considering the data trail it’s already left. You see, Joe, when a mobile is switched off, it records the phone mast it was last communicating with, so it can find it again quickly when you switch it back on. The nearest to your phone when it was switched off on Thursday night was a mast on the roof of the Kingsbury Leisure Centre. Which is right next to Fryent Country Park.’

He paused and turned another page. I remembered my first meeting with Naylor at the park, two days ago – him getting out of his car as I emerged from the undergrowth, muddy, out of breath, with bloodied knuckles and an empty sports bag that belonged to Ben.

Naylor said: ‘Why did you switch your phone off on Thursday night, Joe?’

‘I didn’t switch it off. I lost it at the Premier Inn.’

‘During your fight with Mr Delaney?’

Larssen gave another ‘no comment’ response.

Naylor said: ‘The metadata from your phone records show that you left the North Circular at Neasden and headed north-west on the A4140, taking you to the country park.’

‘My phone may have done, but I didn’t. I went straight home to deal with William’s asthma attack, then back to the hotel. Then back home again, where I opened a beer and put my son in the bath.’

‘You went back to the country park on Monday morning. Why?’

I looked over at my solicitor, and he gave me a brief nod.

‘Ben invited me there to meet him, he said he had something to show me. I told you this two days ago.’

‘Are you sure you weren’t looking for something else?’ he added. ‘Something you left behind? Or maybe you were finishing the job of concealment that you’d started on Thursday night?’

‘My client has no comment.’

‘Did you kill your wife’s lover and bury his body in that park?’

‘My client has no comment.’

‘How did you kill him? With your fists?’

‘My client has no comment.’

‘He slept with your wife. Did you beat him unconscious and then just keep on hitting him?’

‘My client has no comment.’

‘Or did you kick him to death? Did it feel good?’

‘This is ridiculous,’ I said finally.

‘Joe!’ Larssen said sharply, giving me a stern look.

Naylor said: ‘Ridiculous in what way?’

‘My client has no comment,’ Larssen said again.

Naylor sat back in his chair, a pained look on his face.

‘That’s a lot of no comment for someone who’s not done anything wrong.’

DS Redford took over the questioning.