‘Thank you for agreeing to be interviewed so promptly, Mr Richardson,’ Fleet said as he settled on his seat. The chair was cantilevered, and for the briefest of moments as he sat down, he was worried it might not take his weight.

Richardson leaned forward, and spoke with the intensity of someone who’d so far been struggling to hold his tongue. ‘For the record, Detective Inspector, and before you go any further, I want you to realise if you don’t already that this entire investigation is a charade.’

Lawe was halfway towards sitting, and Fleet caught his look of alarm. The solicitor had a worried air about him anyway, from the lines on his forehead to the colour of his hair: it was grey all over, even though Lawe couldn’t have been more than five or six years older than Fleet.

‘It’s bullshit,’ Richardson continued. ‘Plain and simple. And if your superiors think they’re going to intimidate me, you can tell them they’ve got another think coming. All my life there have been people out to get me, and not once have I ever backed down from a fight.’

‘You think someone is out to get you, Mr Richardson?’ said Fleet. He kept his voice even, but immediately he was thinking about Lance Wheeler. About his body swinging by his belt. If Melissa was in danger, who was to say Callum Richardson wasn’t, too? On the other hand, Richardson didn’t exactly strike Fleet as the vulnerable type.

Richardson scoffed as he reclined in his chair. ‘Oh, please. You work for Manish Apte. Am I right? And Apte is a stooge – a political appointment with no more backbone than a jellyfish. He’ll do whatever his paymasters tell him to do.’

‘Manish Apte is a civilian, Mr Richardson. Neither he nor his political associates have any direct authority over the course of active police investigations.’

‘Is that a joke, Detective Inspector? Or are you stupid enough to actually believe that?’

‘Callum, please—’

Richardson held up a hand to silence his solicitor. ‘Apte is a Tory. The Tories are more afraid of me than anyone. They see my transition into politics as a direct attempt to muscle in on their constituents. The longer I’m associated with any kind of criminal proceedings, the better it is for them all round.’

Fleet looked at Lawe, who’d apparently given up attempting to intervene. His look of resigned despondency suggested he knew full well how much success he was likely to have trying to limit what Richardson chose to say.