Edderbridge had waived his right to legal counsel and he’d arrived alone, with the uniformed officers who’d driven him. He’d been processed as a witness being interviewed under caution, and two officers were inside the room babysitting him, waiting for the interview to begin.

‘Did you send a couple of officers down to the dump site of the boat to check for evidence?’ Kelly asked Kate.

‘Yup. They retrieved a few fag butts on site, as well as a beer can, and forensics have been called to dust for fingerprints, despite them pointing out that we don’t stand a cat in hell’s chance, because of the snow.’

‘They always say that.’ Kelly said, smiling. ‘Let’s do it, shall we?’

They went into the interview suite, and Kelly found a large man, somewhat comfortable and settled, stretched out across his chair, hands behind his back, manspreading his legs, and smiling at her.

‘Morning, Paul,’ she said breezily. She introduced herself and Kate. He recognised Kate from his one night stay on Sunday night and winked at her.

No one warmed to a witness who made themselves so comfortable in an interview suite. Especially not a woman-beater.

They went through the prelims and Paul yawned a few times.

‘Are we keeping you up, Paul?’ Kate asked. He smiled at her and nodded.

‘You’ve been skipping your sleep?’ Kelly asked.

‘It’s not very comfortable downstairs in the cells, have you tried it?’ he asked cheekily.

Kelly could tell that he liked to think of himself as a charmer; she’d read his notes from Monday night. But he simply made her skin crawl. He was a big bloke, roughly matching the CCTV of the person who’d stolen the boat. She was a small petrol vessel, with a shelter cabin, twelve feet in length, common on Ullswater, which wasn’t a busy lake.

‘We’ve got several things to plough through with you, Paul, so let’s get cracking, shall we?’

‘Whatever,’ he said nonchalantly.

‘You’ve heard the news, I assume? About the crash on Scafell?’

‘I didn’t do it, guv,’ he said, laughing and holding his hands up. Neither Kelly nor Kate joined in his fun.

‘You recognise this boat, Paul?’ Kelly said, pushing a photograph across to him. Kate made notes.

‘Nah,’ he shook his head. Clearly this was Paul’s go-to approach for standard police interviews, but this one wasn’t standard and it was about to bite him on the arse.

‘And is this you stealing it?’ Kelly turned her laptop round and showed him the video of a large man in a dark coat taking the boat from Pooley Bridge.

‘Definitely not.’

‘So, the cigarette butts and beer can, found where the boat was dumped sometime on Monday, before you went home and a neighbour accused you of beating up your girlfriend, are somebody else’s?’

Silence.