‘Gloria, we have reason to believe you rent a flat in Cowley Marsh, is that right?’

Gloria blinked, stole a look at Carla, then said, ‘Yes, what of it?’

‘Has Connor O’Brian visited the flat?’

Gloria opened her mouth, then shut it again.

‘We don’t care what you use the flat for, we just want to know about Connor.’

‘No. I haven’t seen him since the trial, years ago.’ She shifted awkwardly on the fuchsia-coloured sofa and even Carla could see she was lying.

‘Gloria,’ Bremer leaned forward, his voice soft, ‘Connor O’Brian was found dead at your flat this morning.’ He let his words settle and they watched as Gloria’s expression went from disbelief to horror, before shutting down defensively.

‘I didn’t kill him, if that’s why you’re here.’

‘We don’t think you did. We’ve seen CCTV of the woman we want to question. We just need you to tell us who she is.’

Gloria looked desperately at Carla, then back to Bremer. ‘I don’t know anything about it. I live here, I just dump stuff there, like a storage room,’ she stalled, clearly not wanting to reveal the reason she rented it; not wanting to mention clients and paying by the hour.

Bremer looked at Carla, then stood. ‘I’ll go and make us tea.’ One more glance at her from the door, a pointed look to tell her to take over, and he was gone. With his absence, the atmosphere lifted. Gloria visibly relaxed, and although clearly still upset, she was obviously beginning to think.

‘Why was Connor in my flat?’

Carla couldn’t tell if it was a genuine question or an attempt to cover her back, so she said, ‘Gloria, at the moment, we don’t think you killed him. But the more you lie to us, the more we may start to question that assumption.’

Gloria stared at her, eyes pleading, but Carla held the look and didn’t back down.

‘Ugh.’ Gloria sank back in her chair. ‘I’m fucked, aren’t I?’

‘Did you let Connor into your flat?’

‘Yes.’ She wiped a tear from the side of her right eye. ‘Connor would come over when he’d had a fight with her.’ Gloria’s expression clouded. ‘So I just assumed he’d had another one and let him in.’

‘Have you met his girlfriend?’

Gloria snorted. ‘God, no. Connor would have killed us both. Or we would have killed each other,’ she added.

‘Did they often argue?’

‘How often did he come over, you mean?’ Gloria shrugged. ‘Once every few weeks.’

‘And the last time he called, what did he say?’

‘Just that he’d had another fight and needed a place to bunk down. I didn’t stay with him, I never did, just gave him the keys and left.’

Carla doubted that. ‘And he didn’t say anything else about his fight with his girlfriend?’

‘No. Like what?’