Gillard thanked them and made to leave. Tickett senior bellowed at the dogs, allowing the detective to make his way, calmly and with no sudden movements, past the watchful animals. Once back on the road, he memorised the number plate of the black Audi RS Q8 that the younger Tickett had arrived in, and walked back to his own car. Straining his ears, Gillard could just about hear an argument in the caravan, made easier for him when the squeal and boom of the opening door let the row out. He watched Rory Tickett stride angrily to his car, open the door as if intending to pull it from its hinges, and start the engine. The detective managed to reach the unmarked Vauxhall and get inside before the black Audi shot past. He did a quick three-point turn, and followed at a discreet distance.

Rory seemed to be in a tearing hurry, turning left at the village green and racing for the link road. He paid no heed to the forty limit on the 180-degree northbound on-ramp, and even as Gillard was doing fifty, he could see the Audi accelerating away from him, leaning over to the right, tyres squealing. Once up on the dual carriageway, the detective kept the Audi in view, leaving two or three vehicles between them. Rory took the Haslemere turning, and led Gillard down country lanes. Keeping up with him would have given the game away so he slowed, losing sight of the vehicle, but able to hear it through the open window. Gillard eventually passed a driveway where electric gates were just closing. The wrought iron barriers were set between high newly-constructed brick walls, and coasting past he glimpsed a sizeable new-build home, and a flash of black vehicle.

An interesting family and, on crude policing criteria, definitely of interest: Christopher with a conviction for murder, Aidan present or nearby when the body was found, and Rory ‘Typhoon’ Tickett, a man who for a few years at least had made a living with his fists. The big house and the brand-new black Audi didn’t appear to be out of kilter with a briefly successful boxer. Still, plenty of inspiration for further research.

The head office of Aqua Western was in Windsor, on the top floor of a small modern office block in a residential area. Gillard parked in the visitors’ section of a small car park which served the three businesses there. At reception, he was shown into a waiting area, and the secretary came down to take him up to Kelvin Arrowsmith’s large, airy corner office. Arrowsmith was on the phone, leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk, but waved Gillard in. The detective was supplied with tea from a pot and a selection of biscuits while he waited for the apparently jovial manager to finish off his conversation.