‘Well, I found exceptionally high levels of alcohol in the bloodstream – and that would have been enough to kill most people. But tolerance varies, you know.’ Mrs van Doon raised an eyebrow. ‘If he was an experienced drinker, he could have survived the alcohol poisoning. Short-term, anyway.’

‘It sounds as though he was very experienced,’ said Cooper.

‘I thought so. Well, here’s an unwise combination for you – the victim was also malnourished. I’d say he hadn’t eaten properly for some time.’

‘So that combination was the cause of death?’

‘Not directly. My conclusion is that he fell on his back, suffering a blow to the head on the way down. It’s a pity he couldn’t have turned on to his side. It might have saved him.’

‘There wasn’t room where he fell in his caravan,’ said Cooper. ‘He was lying wedged between a table and the bed.’

The pathologist nodded. ‘Well, that explains it. While he lay unconscious, or in an alcoholic stupor, he choked on his own vomit.’

Darren Turnbull sat in Interview Room One. ‘I suppose this is about the shooting, isn’t it? The old lady who got shot in Foxlow.’

‘Would you like to tell us something about that, Darren?’ said Hitchens in his friendliest manner.

‘I don’t know anything about the bloody shooting,’ said Turnbull, apparently missing the friendliness.

‘Oh, really? So why did you mention it?’

Turnbull twisted his hands restlessly, but his voice seemed to be failing him again.

‘I mean, you must know something about it. You raised the subject, Darren, not us.’

This time, Hitchens let the silence develop. He was prepared to wait for Turnbull to fill the silence.

‘I saw it on the telly,’ he said. ‘That’s all. I read about it in the papers. That’s how I know about the murder, just like everyone else. So what does that mean, eh?’

‘That you’re admirably conscientious about keeping up with the news, I suppose,’ said Hitchens, opening the file in front of him. He made a show of reading the top page for a few moments, as if he was seeing it for the first time. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Turnbull again.

‘Your car – this blue X-reg Astra. It was seen in Foxlow on Saturday night. Well, the early hours of Sunday, actually. It was remarkably near the scene of the murder, Darren.’

‘Maybe.’

‘And having diligently watched all those TV reports and read the items in the newspapers, which all mentioned that we were appealing for the owner of a blue X-reg Vauxhall Astra to come forward, you nevertheless stayed away, and failed to contact us. Why was that, Darren?’

‘I’m going to be in big trouble,’ said Turnbull.