Kelly interrupts her. ‘I hate Starbucks, Neros, Costa friggin’ Coffee. Why would anyone drink that overpriced lukewarm milky muck?’ He raises the cup to his mouth and drinks back the contents in one gulp. ‘I prefer your chemical-shit water. Much more to my taste.’

Archer cannot take her eyes from the sides of his mouth that are caked with a distasteful brown wax-like residue.

She presses the record button, announces the names of those present and begins.

‘Mr Kelly, when did you last see your wife and son?’

‘Which ones?’ he growls without looking up.

Archer recalls Jackie telling her Elaine’s father describing Kelly as ‘a council estate lothario’.

‘Let’s stick with Elaine and Jordan, for now. They were last seen on the Aylesbury Estate almost one week back. Do you know where they went?’

Kelly’s eyes drop. He shakes his head.

‘Mr Kelly, speak for the recording,’ says Quinn, curtly.

‘No. I don’t know where they went.’

Archer opens the file and removes printouts of the photos of Elaine and her injuries from Jackie Morris’s phone. ‘Did you cause these injuries to your wife, Mr Kelly?’

Kelly pales as he looks over the pictures.

‘Look closely at this one,’ says Archer, pointing to the one with the bruising around Elaine’s neck. ‘Did you try to strangle your wife, Mr Kelly?’

Kelly’s small puffy eyes widen and he shakes his head. From the manila folder, Archer takes out the mortuary headshot of Elaine.

‘Elaine died from strangulation,’ says Archer.

‘Is that really necessary?’ says the brief, speaking up for the first time.

Archer ignores him and takes out her phone. ‘You’ve tried to strangle her before, haven’t you?’ Archer pushes Jackie Morris’s picture across the table.

Kelly trembles and looks away.

Quinn speaks. ‘Where have you been, Mr Kelly? No one has seen you since your wife and son disappeared. You must understand how odd this looks under the circumstances.’

‘I didn’t do it.’

‘Do what?’ asks Quinn.

‘I didn’t kill them. I promise. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it.’ Kelly begins sobbing into his hands.

‘Is your son dead, Mr Kelly?’

‘I don’t know!’

‘You just said you didn’t kill him. You must know something.’

‘It’s just a figure of speech.’

‘A figure of speech,’ mocks Quinn.

‘When did you last see your wife and child, Mr Kelly?’

‘A week ago.’

‘Where was this?’

‘In the flat.’

‘Please speak for the recording. Did you last see Elaine and Jordan at 19 Aylesbury Court seven days back?’

‘Yes.’

‘What time would that have been?’

‘Around dinner time.’

‘Six o’clock? Seven o’clock?’

‘Sometime in between.’

‘What happened that evening?’

‘What do you mean, what happened?’

‘How did the evening pan out for you all?’

Kelly looks down at the table. ‘We had an argument.’

‘What about?’

‘She had said something to Lauren.’

‘Who is Lauren?’