Not only was the poor boy trying not to cry, his squirming and the ruddiness of his cheeks told me he was hugely embarrassed by this line of questioning.

‘Did the fondling extend to oral sex?’

Shock darted across his face, which reddened even more.

‘God, no, we never went that far. No, she wouldn’t let me. Rosie was a good girl, such a good, good girl.’ At this point James broke down completely and Detective Reihana reached towards my screen to pause the recording.

I was sitting in the very room where the interview had taken place twenty-four hours earlier, but on my own clock, not the station’s. DI Johns might have been able to keep me off the front line as far as questioning was concerned, but he couldn’t stop me from watching the recorded interviews on my own time, especially if he didn’t know. I was buggered if I was going to be left out of the loop. The station was now tomb-like as it was late Sunday afternoon and everyone else with a life had gone home. It was the perfect opportunity to get up to speed on the murder investigation.

So far what I’d learned from James was that he didn’t do it. Yes, they all say that, but in this instance, I believed him. He had last seen Rose-Marie on the Friday; they had lunch together on the University Union lawn with several other friends. They had first met at a church students’ youth group and had been seeing each other for well over a year, and they didn’t flat together. I found it hard to believe that a hot-blooded young couple could be dating that long and never have jumped in the sack. My hormones were a damned sight more demanding than that and the abstinence would have driven me insane. I guess they were, as he said, very good little Christians. A bit better than a few others I knew who used the title, but who were busy shagging each other’s brains out at any opportunity. Each to their own.

A few zigzaggy black lines danced across the screen as the interview resumed. The timer indicated that it took James ten minutes to compose himself.

‘How often did you see Miss Bateman?’

A very juicy sniff made one eye twitch. ‘Normally, I’d see her most days on campus and perhaps two or three nights a week; we’d study together at our flats or at the library, and then we’d hook up at youth group on Sunday nights.’

‘Normally?’ the detective asked. ‘Had that pattern changed recently?’