There were no unpleasant surprises in the line of questioning. Why I had been present at the circus, the order of events, where I had gotten the firearm, why I deemed it necessary to shoot the elephant, what risk I had seen to public safety, and my own. The District Commander asked all the questions and DI Johns sat there like Big Chief Thundercloud. I surprised myself at how calm I remained throughout and how my emotions stayed in some semblance of control.

At the end of the interview the District Commander asked if I had any questions. I had one, but I didn’t really want to hear the answer.

‘How many died?’

The memory of the circus aflame and that noise reverberated in my mind. I had to close my eyes to blot it out as I clarified the question. ‘I mean people and animals, how many died because of that fire?’

Frederickson let out a weary sigh. The muscles tightened across his jaw.

‘We’ve got the people who started it. One of the bast—, I mean, men couldn’t live with the guilt of what happened and turned them all in. Vigilantes. Decided to take matters into their own hands and punish the circus after reading in the newspaper the so-called serial killer was one of the company. The culprits did a hit and run, as it were. Ran in, doused petrol, lit it and ran, so they avoided the security. They thought they’d send them a message. Some message. It’s cost six lives, so far. Your elephant. A vet had to be called in to put down a monkey and one of the lions after they critically injured themselves thrashing about in panic in their cages. Terry Bennett died as a result of a suspected heart attack.’ My breath drew in, involuntarily. ‘And the elephant killed two of the circus workers in its panic to escape. Apparently, they were trying to free it. That tally doesn’t include the other people injured trying to save and rescue the animals. There are a number of people in the hospital right now. One is seriously burned and may not pull through.’

Bloody hell. All that because some dickheads decided to take the law into their own hands and mete out mob justice. I hoped they were happy with the result.

‘Which of the circus people were killed?’ I asked. After days of interviews, I knew all their faces. The District Commander checked on one of the files in front of him.

‘Jamal Kumar, the elephant’s keeper. It struck him down with its trunk, according to witnesses; and Zarvo the clown or Zarvo Krunic. He died instantly too, apparently – trampled.’

‘Oh, shit.’

The expletive slipped out before I could stop myself and DI Johns felt obliged to give me a warning growl. ‘Mind your language, constable.’

Frederickson held up a hand to stop him admonishing further. ‘Why? Was there an issue with that man?’