‘I needed somewhere to lie low for a year, didn’t I? Feldman let me stay in his flat free in exchange for setting his ma’s shop on fire. No-one was meant to get hurt. It was supposed to happen when she was out. The idea was she’d claim on her insurance. Cushty.’ He smacked his forehead with his palm. ‘I didn’t want to risk doing it myself, so I left the petrol for the Paki boy and gave him instructions. I might have known that dipstick would get it wrong. I told him it was the shop on the right with a star above a blue door, and texted it to be sure. Long story short: he set fire to the soup shop and not Mrs Feldman’s, and Simas and Kelly were inside.’

‘So, you shot Ali?’

He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t just the cock-up. I knew he’d blabbed to his mate, Riad, and John had seen him cosying up to you. I felt pretty sure he’d open his trap and get us all in trouble.’

‘Moving onto the murder of Patrick Ryan. Tell us about the van you used to transport Patrick Ryan onto the Manor House site.’

‘No comment.’ Leaning forward in the chair, and propped up on his elbows, he had his hands folded behind his head and was studying the table again.

‘We have evidence which shows you and your brother dumping Patrick Ryan’s body at the Manor House site on Saturday night, and you’ll be glad to know we’ve found your van.’

‘Where?’

‘Where did you leave it?’

‘No comment.’

‘On the Ocean Estate.’ That shocked him. ‘A law-abiding member of the public called in. We’ve just got the forensics back. What do you think we found in it?’

‘No comment.’

Taylor slapped his executive pad down on the table. ‘What have you found in it, Inspector?’

‘Blood from Patrick Ryan and Ali Kousa. Dog hairs which match those we found on Ryan. Drugs. Firearms. Ammunition.’ I handed Taylor a copy of the forensic report and leaned towards Hayes. ‘Enough to put you away for a very long time.’

Kenny Hayes cackled, and let his long body flop back in the plastic chair, arms folded, and one leg crossed over the other. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling. Bored and devoid of empathy.

‘You left something else in the back of your van, didn’t you?’

‘What?’

‘Patrick Ryan’s tongue.’

Water spurted from Taylor’s mouth and sprayed over the table. ‘Excuse me, I . . . ’ The solicitor dabbed at the surface with a cotton handkerchief.

I fixed my eyes on Kenny’s face, hoping for a reaction, but there wasn’t one. ‘Forensics have confirmed that it belonged to Patrick Ryan.’ I waited for Taylor to sort himself out. ‘I bet you were chuffed to get hold of a Manor House ID card? Big site like that? Quite a coup.’