‘God, no. It would freak me out, all these windows, everything on display like that. I know it’s set away from the road, but it’s still weird. And just so cold and impersonal. The only thing I can tell about these people is that they have an interior designer.’

‘I wouldn’t like this, either.’ He smiled to himself, reassured.

He was paranoid about his own financial attractiveness after the mother of his child left him to be with a man of means. His lack of money was one of the things that made him feel a little inadequate. Probably just a residual chip on the shoulder from being poor as a kid.

The large wooden front door opened and an older gentleman stood in front of them. He was in his fifties, no hair and a very ruddy-coloured skin. He must have been around six foot three and physically he was a robust man, not exactly fat but not exactly muscly, either. He wore a wax Barbour jacket, Timberland boots and a Hackett rugby shirt. He wanted people to know he had money. There was an air of intimidation about him and that was before he even spoke.

‘Are you the police officers who were at HQ earlier?’ Reece Corrigan asked, shaking Imogen’s hand, then Adrian’s.

He had a strong, confident grip and seemed completely unfazed by their appearance on his doorstep.

‘That’s correct. I wonder if we might speak to you about your former employees. Simon Glover and Leon Quick,’ Adrian said.

‘Yes, Jimmy told me you were asking after them. I believe he already told you everything. They were rubbish, so I sacked them. There really isn’t anything else to say.’

‘Can we come in? Maybe you can remember some more details about the men.’

‘I’m afraid now isn’t a good time. My wife and I are just off out. Why are you asking me about those two no-marks, anyway?’

‘We are investigating their deaths.’

‘They’re both dead?’ he said, genuinely surprised.

Adrian noticed the emphasis Reece put on the word ‘both’, as though that was the part that was unexpected. Did he already know about Simon Glover’s death?

‘Can you tell us where you were last Friday night?’

‘Friday night is poker night. Me and a few of the boys at work get together once a week.’

‘Which boys? We will need some names.’ Imogen said.

‘Jimmy and some other lads. I’ll call Ruby and get her to send you over names and contact details, save you some time.’

Behind them, a woman, presumably Reece’s wife, appeared at the top of the stairs. At first, all they could see were her bronzed legs and white patent heels. It was immediately obvious before they even saw her face that she was significantly younger than him.