It was a dark day, the colours muted and pale, but the forecasters were expecting it to brighten up later.

There was a For Sale sign outside O’Connor’s small semi-detached home, and the first question James asked him when he opened the door was whether he was moving away from Kirkby Abbey.

‘As soon as I can find somewhere else to live,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m going to Carlisle today. There are some properties I want to check out and I’ve got some job interviews lined up there. I rent this place but the owner wants to sell it and since my partner moved out, I’ve been struggling to get by.’

Inside, it was cramped and in need of a facelift. The acrid smell of tobacco lingered in the air, and James got the impression that O’Connor did not spend much time or money looking after things.

James turned down the offer of a hot drink before O’Connor took him into the living room.

Now that the guy had removed his coat James could see that he had a pronounced beer gut and an indistinct tattoo on his right forearm.

When they were sitting down, O’Connor said, ‘I’m assuming my name has come up because I used to work at Oaktree Farm and had a couple of run-ins with Robert after he fired me.’

James nodded. ‘That’s correct, Mr O’Connor.’

‘In that case, let me begin by saying that although I came to dislike the guy, I swear I did not kill him or his family. Whoever did it must be a fucking psycho.’

‘We believe it happened on Christmas Eve,’ James said. ‘So, can you tell me where you were on that day and where you’ve been since?’

‘I was here by myself most of Christmas Eve,’ he replied. ‘At about eight I drove to Windermere to spend Christmas with my brother who lives there.’

‘And what time did you arrive there?’

‘Just before nine. I’ll give you his number and you can ask him.’

‘And did you go out before you left for your brother’s house on Christmas Eve?’

He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t in the mood so I stayed in.’

‘Why didn’t you go to your brother’s much earlier then?’

‘Because he was working and didn’t get home until half eight or so.’

‘And there was nobody here with you?’

‘That’s correct. But I didn’t go to Oaktree Farm. I haven’t been there in months.’

O’Connor’s eyes were intent under dark eyebrows and his voice was strong and steady. He held James’s gaze the whole time and did not come across as nervous or unsure of himself.

‘When was the last time you saw Mr Bateman?’ James asked.