Gillard looked over Townsend’s shoulder at a PDF of Mrs Tilling’s bank statement. ‘I see that payment, but there are many others for smaller amounts.’

‘Yes. I can’t be sure what they are yet – mukbang maybe – but I’ve asked the banks to forward the counterparties behind these IBAN codes.’

‘Let’s look at the contract again,’ Gillard said. ‘Wouldn’t it have stipulated that he have some kind of proper funeral arrangement afterwards?’

‘Yes. It’s right here. In fact, the breakdown of the quote shows that most of the money the Tillings were paid was to cover arranging for repatriation of the body to Taipei. They saved £25,000 by just dumping him in the Thames.’

Gillard shook his head. ‘Chisellers as well as murderers, eh.’

‘A civil matter,’ Townsend said, looking up at his boss.

‘I can’t quite see it coming to court.’

Gillard returned to the Tillings’ home to find a considerable press presence outside. One young woman with a microphone pushed it under his nose as he was making his way to the door.

‘Why are the police harassing this disabled lady? A woman who believes she lost her son to a man just released from prison. What have you to say about that?’

The detective brushed past the reporters, and greeted the female uniform who had been posted at the front door. ‘When did this lot arrive?’ Gillard asked her.

‘About half nine this morning, sir. Just to let you know there are two of Mrs Tilling’s regular carers inside, and a manager from social services in Sunbury.’ Gillard thanked her as she let him in. He immediately saw Gary Tilling sitting on the sofa watching daytime TV.

‘How are you doing, Gary?’ Gillard asked.

‘I’ve got loads of work to do and I can’t do any of it because you’ve got my equipment. I don’t understand why.’

‘Two men have been murdered, Gary. If you weren’t your mother’s principal overnight carer, and if she’d agree to anyone else looking after her, I’d have put you in custody yesterday instead of on police bail. Think on that.’ Gillard looked upstairs, where a conversation could be heard on the landing. He climbed up, easing his way past the stairlift.

A dark-haired bespectacled woman in her fifties was talking to two younger women, who from their overalls were clearly from a specialist social care company. The older woman seemed pleased to see him. ‘I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Detective Chief Inspector. I’m Helen Cathcart, head of social services outreach.’

Gillard guided her to a spare bedroom as the two care workers continued with their tasks.

‘Mrs Cathcart, I’m trying desperately to do this by the book, though from everything I’ve heard this particular chapter has not yet been written.’