It was all so easy. I rang him, said I was Detective Peterson from Kirklees Police, did he remember me? No. I told him that I’d questioned him a year or two ago. Surely he remembered me? Nah.

‘None taken!’ I said with a little chuckle.

I told him we needed some advice. He was confused. Coppers asking him for advice? Yeah, it sounded strange, I said. But there was something in it for him. For his defence, if he ever needed it. Something definite, on paper, signed and stamped by the police. He agreed to meet me. He’s not a total idiot.

When I pulled up he was already waiting. A street corner a few blocks from where he lived. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to go through with it, but he looked cocky, smirking like he’d just had three bells on a scratch card. It made everything so much simpler.

‘Hi there, Jason. Get in!’

He did, but cautiously, a quick glance left and right as he ducked down into the passenger seat.

‘You still don’t remember me? DS Peterson, Kirklees District?’

Shakes his head, like it makes him cool.

‘Well,’ I say as we drive off, ‘we’ve got something. An object. Could be evidence. It’s still where we found it. There’s nobody there. It’ll just be you and me. I want you to tell me if you’ve ever seen it before. You’re not a suspect. This is about identifying where the object came from. It’s got nothing to do with you. I can’t say much more than that.’

His brain is whirring.

‘If I’ve seen it?’

‘Yes. It’s an object. Just tell me if you recognize it. And if you have seen it before, tell us where. It’s all anonymous, that’s why we’re alone. One hundred per cent anonymous, OK?’

He’s like a dog, confused but thinks he’s done well. Y’know, tail wagging but he’s not sure he’s getting the bone.

‘What’s in it for me?’

‘A letter,’ I say as we take the long way around Cleckheaton town centre, avoiding the cameras, up past the school and down through a housing estate. ‘A signed letter explaining your full cooperation with the police. It goes into your file in a sealed envelope. In the event of you being sentenced for any future crime, the envelope will be passed to the judge before sentencing. Tell your brief about it. Make sure it gets to the judge.’

He nods, grinning now. He’s on bail for robbery, tells me as much.

‘Look,’ I say, ‘there are no promises. But the information you give us today could make a big difference. Judges like that sort of thing. They like it a lot. Do you understand, Jason?’

Happy dog now. Tail wagging. I want to pat his head.