Clare watched Mark Mooney carefully, but he wouldn’t meet her eye. What was it he was about to tell them? ‘I can’t give any guarantees,’ she said. ‘But, Mark, if you know something, if you are involved in this crime, you must tell us.’

Chris said, ‘Inspector Mackay’s right, Mark. It’ll come out eventually. It always does. But, if you’ve helped us, it’ll be taken into account.’

He sat staring at the floor for a moment then he lifted his gaze. ‘And a reduced charge?’

Clare shook her head. ‘No guarantees, I’m afraid. But we’ll ensure your co-operation is noted at every stage.’

He looked at Clare then back at his solicitor who gave a slight nod. ‘Okay, then.’ He cleared his throat then said, ‘What I did – you have to understand, I did it under duress. It wasn’t my decision. I had no choice.’

Clare said, ‘Mark, what is it you want to tell us?’

He took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. Clare and Chris waited then, at last, he spoke.

‘It was me,’ he said. ‘I shot the guy. At that big house, Lamond Lodge. I shot him.’

Clare glanced at Chris. After all the questions, all the forensic investigations, checking the backgrounds of everyone in the house party, and it was the security guard all the time. The obvious person. Why hadn’t they seen it? And, more to the point, why was he sitting there in front of them, admitting his guilt?

‘Just to be clear,’ she said, ‘Mark, you are confessing to killing Russell Fox. You are saying you murdered him in the grounds of Lamond Lodge by shooting him?’

‘I wouldn’t call it murder.’

Clare’s eyes widened. ‘What would you call it?’

He hesitated, then said, ‘I don’t know what the charge would be. But you have to believe it wasn’t my choice. I did it to protect my family.’

‘Okay,’ Clare said. ‘Perhaps you could explain.’

‘Not easy, Inspector. But I’ll try.’ He took a drink from a cup of water in front of him then he said, ‘I like a flutter, ye know?’

‘Gambling?’

‘Aye. Bit of horses, sometimes a poker game.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Anyway, I got this tip one day. Fella said it was a dead cert. Twenty to one, ye ken? One of those races where money had changed hands. The outsider was definitely gonnae win.’ His brow furrowed at the memory. ‘Didnae win, of course.’

‘You’d bet a lot of money on it?’

‘Aye. The wife’s holiday money.’ He shook his head again. ‘Florida.’

‘Did you tell your wife?’

‘Naw. I reckoned if I won it back she’d never know. So I put another few bets on. Lost more.’ He glanced at Clare. ‘Mug’s game.’ He fell silent and, after a few moments, Clare prompted him.