‘I hope we’re not interrupting anything,’ said Sasha. Through a patio door, she could see half a dozen kids sliding in and out of the pool, shivering with delight, while a woman sunned herself in a lounger.

‘The nippers have some friends round, so it seemed a good excuse to have a nice drink.’ Jim shut the door. ‘We’re sun worshippers here and soaking up the last rays of the day! Nothing like a bit of Vitamin D to revitalize the soul! Lovely!’

The room was big and spacious, two knocked together, and filled with a pair of large sofas in shiny red leather and one of the biggest TVs Sasha had ever seen.

‘Sit, sit.’ Haskell clapped his hands as if they were party guests. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘You’re Becky Haskell’s brother,’ Sasha said.

‘That’s me, luv.’ He fetched a glass from a cabinet. ‘I’ve just made this Pimm’s and it’ll be a shame to let the ice melt, so you’ll have to excuse my indulgence. I expect you won’t partake because you’re on duty, I know that from the films.’

He poured the Pimm’s, and ice and fruit – sliced strawberries, apple, blackberries – slopped into the glass. On a sideboard was a digital frame where the photo image changed every few seconds. Sasha saw Jim’s family on holiday, at a zoo, a kid’s birthday party. But there was also a whole shelf dedicated to his sister, Becky: relaxing at home, sitting on a pony as a little girl, and that familiar image of her in the neat bottle-green school uniform, the portrait likely taken days or weeks before her untimely death. She gazed imperiously at the camera, a pretty, confident girl on the verge of womanhood.

‘You know Simon Parkin, Mr Haskell.’

‘For my sins.’ Jim raised the glass. ‘Cheers.’

‘He’s been arrested for blackmailing Michelle Dormand, who you’ll also be aware of, and Simon says he’s been doing it to get money to you.’

Jim took a long swallow of his drink, the ice shifting in the glass as he tipped it to his mouth, and smacked his lips. ‘That’s just what the doctor ordered on a hot day like this. Beautiful, love the stuff.’ He grimaced. ‘Yeah, Simon gives me money, he helps me out financially from time to time, but that’s because he’s minted, right.’

Sasha watched a wasp land on the sticky lip of the jug. ‘Why does Mr Parkin give you money?’

‘Because he’s a good soul who likes to help me and my family.’ He glanced towards Becky’s photo. ‘I lost a beloved sister, my kids never got to know their auntie. I guess he feels guilty about what happened. I’d no idea that’s how he got the money.’

‘Guilty about what?’ asked Craig.