‘I might have forgotten some of the details. It was a long time ago.’

Then arrived the final moment of revelation and accusation, the sort of interrogation scene, sleuth against suspects, that I never wanted to write, in fact never knew how best to write. Only the sleuth and the reader are seeking information at this late stage. Why should the suspects answer incriminating questions? Why do they feel the need to explain?

‘I’m not too concerned with that,’ I said. ‘What I want to know is where the money came from, the money you used to set up your scheme.’

‘We came into it,’ Jeksid said.

‘As cops? How do cops come into money? Does that mean you stole it? Or it was given to you as a bribe?’

‘It was given to my sons. Raffe Antterland was a philanderer, a dishonest businessman and disgustingly rich. Once my ex-wife died, he obviously decided he didn’t see himself in the role of stepfather, so he ran off somewhere. We’ve never been able to trace him. Before he left he gave Lew a large leather shoulder bag, and he said: “This is for you and your brother, also for your father, and for anyone else who can use it.” Note that he said: “also for your father, and for anyone else who can use it.” Inside were stuffed hundreds, thousands, of high-denomination thaler notes.

‘Those few words caused endless trouble between us. Lew told me what Raffe had said the next day. Dever was there, he heard them too. They both confirmed it. But later, the boys decided that Raffe had meant something else, that he intended the money only for them.’

‘They were acting like serfs,’ Frejah said contemptuously.

I pressed on. ‘Do you know why he gave away all that money?’

‘It was guilt,’ Jeksid said. ‘I met Raffe a couple of times. He was a feudal snob – he had bought and bribed his way to the level of cartage provider, as if that mattered, but he knew that when my wife Jessa left me for him, the boys would automatically be reduced to serfdom. That’s what happened – it’s the law. I think he intended they should have enough money to buy their way back, at least to vassalage.’

‘They were serfs,’ Frejah said. ‘They deserved to stay that way.’

Jeksid glared at her. His gun hand twitched.

‘So you went across to Salay Hames and helped yourself to it?’ I said.

‘No!’ Frejah interceded. ‘That was not the idea at all. We wanted to help. It was a family crisis for Enver. He wanted to go and see his sons, and because I was his police partner he asked me if I would go with him.’

‘That’s right,’ Jeksid said. ‘But we needed time off work and had to get the permission of a senior officer.’