‘And he’s just going to let us stroll around wherever we want without a warrant? I can only assume he’s already cleaned house. What did he say, exactly?’

‘Dunno, I wasn’t there. I went for a snoop around while Anderson stayed with him to make sure he couldn’t call anyone.’

‘And where’s Anderson now?’

‘Toilet, I think.’

‘So what did you find, then?’ asked Styles.

Whittaker shook his head. ‘Nothing, but we’re going back with dogs this afternoon. They still think it’s the murders that we’re looking into for now, though.’

‘By which time they’ll have shifted anything that was there and thrown a shitload of bleach down to cover any scent,’ said Porter. ‘It’s like he’s one step ahead. He’s not daft. He knows it’s not about the murders. Why else would he be opening his doors up other than to throw us off the scent?’

‘How about you two, anyway?’ asked Whittaker. ‘What was it you were trying to tell those two upstairs?’

Porter gave him a summary of their morning. Whittaker listened intently, eyes widening at the mention of a camera.

‘I never spotted it,’ he said, looking embarrassed. ‘How long before we can have a look?’

‘No idea. I’ll check with Reid in a minute.’

‘Be careful, Porter. I hear good things about you, but Milburn isn’t a man to get on the wrong side of. This one’s his platform for the next step up, and I wouldn’t want to be the one who fucks it up for him.’

‘Consider me well and truly warned.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘I know, I know.’ Porter instantly felt bad. He hadn’t thought for a second that Milburn was delivering a warning as such, but the need to constantly look over his shoulder to see what his own people were doing was making him snappy. ‘Sorry, Jon. Do me a favour,’ he said, changing the subject to thaw the atmosphere. ‘Ask Anderson to give me a shout when you see him. I want to know more about how it went with Locke and Bolton while you were sniffing around.’

‘Sure thing, will do. See you at the funeral tomorrow, yeah?’

‘Yep, will do.’