The man waiting for Alex in Interview Room 2 was probably in his mid fifties, but his choice of clothing suggested he was still trying to pass as a man decades younger. He was wearing trainers and tapered jogging bottoms, with a parka jacket that he kept zipped up to his stubbly chin. His hair was gelled and styled in a failing attempt to hide the balding patch at the back of his skull. When Alex entered the room, he stood hurriedly, knocking his knee against the desk.

‘Mr Peters,’ Alex said, gesturing for him to sit back down. ‘I’m Detective Inspective King. You may have some information for us?’

She placed the file she was carrying on the desk and took a seat opposite. The man nodded and shifted uncomfortably. He seemed uneasy at the formality of the setting and she wondered whether he’d had much experience of police interview rooms.

She opened the file and withdrew a still taken from the CCTV footage at the café in Tonypandy. Richard Peters looked down at the photo as she put in front of him.

‘It’s definitely him,’ he confirmed with a nod.

‘Him being …?’

‘Gary. My brother. Changed quite a bit since I saw him last, mind, but that’s definitely him.’

‘When did you last see your brother, Mr Peters?’

Richard Peters placed a finger under the neckline of his parka and ran it along his throat as though wiping away sweat. Why didn’t he just take the coat off? Alex asked herself. Time had made her suspicious of everyone, and she wondered whether he had something to hide or whether recent events were making her increasingly paranoid.

‘Good few years back, I reckon.’

‘You don’t live far from here, though?’ Alex asked, tapping a finger on the photograph.

‘Only up the road,’ Richard admitted. He sat back and sighed. ‘Easy to lose touch, though, isn’t it, especially under the circumstances. Do you reckon it’s him then who they found up at the hospital?’

‘These circumstances,’ Alex said, avoiding the question for the moment. ‘How did you come to lose touch with your brother?’

‘Same old story really. Nothing unusual. Gary had a problem with the drink, had for years. Lost him everything – his wife, his job, the house. She gave him plenty of chances, but he was always his own worst enemy.’

‘Where’s his wife now?’

‘Moved away after the divorce. Think she went somewhere Cornwall way, to be nearer to her sister.’ Richard reached for the photograph and slid it towards him to take a closer look. There was no sadness in his expression, almost as though he had expected to one day be sitting in a police station having this conversation about his brother.

‘Any children?’ Alex asked.

Richard shook his head. ‘You think it’s him then?’ he asked again.

‘We don’t know at this stage, although we know the victim had been sleeping rough up at the hospital. I’ll need to take a swab from you if you’re willing, although there’s a strong possibility the fire may have made a DNA test impossible. Now that we have your brother’s name, we can check his dental records. If it is him, we’ll be able to identify him that way.’

Richard nodded. ‘Poor sod. What a way to go.’

‘Was your brother in debt, Mr Peters?’

‘Christ, aye … plenty. That’s what caused all the trouble.’

Had this been a random attack, or had Gary Peters – if their victim was in fact him – got himself involved with someone who had set out to murder him? Money was often a motivation for crime, and it all too often took little to escalate to murder.

‘I realise you haven’t seen him in a long time, but is there anyone you know of who may have wanted to cause Gary harm? If it turns out that your brother is in fact our victim, we have to consider all possibilities.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t have much to do with him even back even. Enough problems of my own without taking his on as well.’ He pushed the photo back across the table to Alex. ‘If it is him, do you know what happens now, with the funeral?’

‘When the body will be released, do you mean?’

‘Well, no, not really. I mean, who’s responsible for it, like?’

‘I’m not following.’

Richard Peters leaned forward and rested his hands on the desk. ‘I’m his next of kin now, what with his divorce and everything. Gary didn’t have a pot to piss in … He’s not going to have left a funeral fund stashed away anywhere, is he?’

Alex folded her arms across her chest, exasperated by the man’s insensitivity. There was a possibility his brother was dead – murdered in the most horrific of ways – and yet his main concern was his own finances.

‘There must be something in place when this kind of thing happens,’ Richard continued. ‘A government scheme or something?’

Alex stood as she fought to hold in the angry tirade she could happily have allowed to escape her. She was still smarting from the argument she’d had with Chloe, and Richard Peters was a prime target on which to take her frustrations out. ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you there. You’ll have to work that one out for yourself. If you could follow me, please … I need that swab from you.’