Instead of heading for the bar, Meakin answered the first question Sellers had asked him. “I’m wiped out, but I think that’s a permanent state once you’ve got kids, isn’t it? How are you doing on the Blundy case? The man that every citizen of the UK expressed a desire to kill at one time or another.”

“It’s going OK.” Sellers looked at the bar.

“Good. Glad to hear it.” Meakin seemed to be waiting for something. Did he want money to buy the drinks? Gibbs wondered. Cheap bastard.

“That silver Audi you mentioned—the one that turned round and sped away?” said Sellers. “Turns out the driver took a suspicious interest in Elmhirst Road, not just once but lots of times throughout the day. It’s all on CCTV, the incident you described and several others: driving past Elmhirst Road multiple times, slowing down to have a look. The driver denies having a particular interest in Damon Blundy, but we don’t believe her, so we’ve got something to work on there.”

“Right. That’s . . . great.”

Gibbs was puzzled by the anxiety in Meakin’s voice. “You OK, Rob?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine. When you say several times . . . I only saw that car once. Definitely just once.”

“Driver’s a mother of two, had to go back and forth to her kids’ school a few times that day,” Sellers told him. “Elmhirst Road’s her direct route. After the U-turn you saw, she didn’t risk getting so close again, but she had to drive past the bottom of Elmhirst to get to the school even going the long way. Each time, she slowed down and had a nosey in the direction of the Blundy house.”

“It might not have been the house; it might have been . . .” Meakin stopped and shook his head. His pale freckled skin had turned red. “Forget it,” he said. “Two pints of Landlord, yeah?”

“Hang on,” said Gibbs. “If there’s something you’ve not told us, spit it out. This is a murder case. You were first at the scene. You saw what some sick fuck did to Blundy. Just because the victim was Damon Blundy doesn’t mean—”

“Course it doesn’t.” Meakin’s eyes widened. “That’s what I’ve been saying since it happened. I had to have a word with a few smart-arses in the canteen this morning. They were saying Blundy had been asking for it for years. First time I’ve heard that said about a white, middle-class, famous male murder victim. I’m all for equality, but . . . let’s be equal by condemning all murderers, not all victims.”

“Right,” said Gibbs.