‘It’s been a long night, Rory,’ he said. ‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘I’d kill for one.’

Gillard asked one of the uniforms to get some coffee and biscuits. Rainy excused herself too, by prior arrangement, and left the room.

‘I saw you fight against Lasorenko. You landed some great punches in the third round. That uppercut a few seconds before the bell would have floored any normal man.’

‘I think his head is made of iron. I pounded it for so long.’ He shook his head ruefully.

‘His counterpunching was impressive too. Such a long reach.’ Gillard had researched the bout on YouTube.

‘He’s just so tall,’ Rory said, animatedly. ‘A big reach comes with it. I was faster, but every time I got in close his right was smashing me on the left eye.’

‘But even a loser’s purse was enough to buy that very impressive house. Did that all come from the fight?’

‘Yeah. Mostly, plus some of the earlier bouts.’

‘How many bedrooms?’ The coffee had arrived with a plate of chocolate digestives. Gillard offered them to Rory, who took one.

‘Five. I need a good bit of space, and light. Full-length windows. Can’t stand poky little places, does my head in. I’ve got my own gym at the back, there. I’ve got to keep exercising, or I run to fat.’ He gave a slight smile, the first they had seen out of him. Gillard asked more: were the weigh-in confrontations stage-managed? Or were they a genuine enmity? Rory responded positively, as if he was being interviewed by the press.

‘No, all that stuff is PR. I’ve often trained with some of these guys on the quiet.’

‘You look very impressive to me; I just wondered why you gave it all up?’

There was a long drawn-out sigh. ‘You have to pick your moment. I was going to retire after getting the title. But Denys Lasorenko got in the way. I had a broken jaw to contend with and it didn’t heal well. Besides, Pa said he got a good bit of business for me that we would do well with.’

‘Property development?’

Rory looked at his fingernails, and began to chew again. ‘Yeah. Some.’

‘Was that in Buckinghamshire?’

‘No. Didn’t have anything up there. It was more local—’ He suddenly looked up at Gillard. ‘No comment.’

‘You didn’t have a reason to be up there in Amersham, did you, Rory?’

‘No comment.’

Gillard wanted to switch the tape back on, but couldn’t do so without a solicitor present. Tolliver had departed, and getting a duty brief might take a while.

Rory drank from his coffee, his eyes shooting daggers at the detective.

‘You’re going down, Rory. I hope you understand that. A long stretch. In a tiny, dark, poky room, just like this one here.’

The man put down the coffee cup. His face was flecked with fear.