‘The pills that killed her came from the same batch as those you brought back from Holland,’ I said. ‘And that puts you in the frame for manslaughter—’

And that was as far as I got before the solicitor objected to the evidence that Aiden’s drugs had been the same drugs that allegedly may have caused the death of Christina Chorley. Thank god she didn’t have access to the PM report yet. Had she known about Christina’s pre-existing condition it might have been all over. I waited for her to wind down, suspended the interview and then asked the solicitor if I might have a word in private.

The solicitor, whose name was Patricia Polly – seriously, Patricia Polly – said she needed a cigarette anyway, so we repaired to the car park.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘I don’t want your boy for this, but it’s a high profile case and someone is going to get done for it. Even if I walk away now, any review team that comes in is just going come to the same conclusions I have.’

Which, while not an out and out lie, was probably at the far end of wishful thinking.

Ms Polly took a deep drag of her Silk Cut and nodded.

‘So what do you want?’ she asked.

‘I know he claims that he did the run for his own personal use and that he wouldn’t have sold any except he was unexpectedly skint,’ I said. ‘But I reckon he sold a big bag to somebody else – I just want to know who.’

‘I’m not going to have him admit to that,’ she said. ‘Even if it is true.’

Wait for it.

‘Unless there was a bit of mutual consideration.’

‘Why don’t you ask him in confidence if he can help,’ I said. ‘Because if there’s somebody else, not only will he be volunteering vital information but he’ll be making sure somebody else steps into the frame for the manslaughter.’

I could tell she was doubtful, but I reckoned she’d figure it was worth a punt.

I gave her my card and had time for a full English in the canteen before she called me back.

Apparently there’d been this posh girl.

‘Did she have a name?’ I asked – we were on the record because he was still under caution, and I might need the evidence for court. There’s no point knowing who done it if you can’t prove it.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Aiden.

I asked what she looked like.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Curly hair and . . .’ Aiden made chest expanding gestures with his hands. ‘You know.’

‘Black or white?’ I asked.

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe?’

‘Maybe tanned?’ said Aiden. ‘I really wasn’t looking at her face.’

I asked if he’d seen her car.

‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘BMW X5, the one with the three litre turbo diesel.’

‘What colour?’

‘Imperial blue.’

‘Imperial blue?’