Christopher on the other hand, known to be exceptionally 'involved' in proceedings, held a challenging hard stare at Daniel, looking for any sign of weakness or emotion, his ginger beard nearly touching his face. I marvelled at Norton's ability to intimidate and extract confessions out of his suspects, especially given the terribly sickening crimes they were accused of. I couldn't help thinking that there was something past his work-engrossed self, something sad, something raw. Something I couldn't see yet.

Letterman was clearly beginning to squirm under Christopher's questions. The tension in the air was almost tangible, the dangerous smell of suspicion hanging over Letterman like a plague.

Norton began his attack. His first tactic was to make his subject feel unimaginably guilty, to the point where whatever story they had fabricated would become useless or fall apart under his merciless hammer blows of truth and judgement. His means of interrogation were incredible to experience, almost an artwork being painted, right in front of your eyes.

"You were quite infatuated with Miss Sutton, weren't you Mr Letterman? Some would say you were obsessed.", Norton begins, his rounded glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He smiles at Norton, a gentle smile, that contained only a sliver of menace, but it sent a deep chill down the base of my spine, up to my shoulders. His reply was clearly done with a degree of caution, almost as if it was a line rehearsed meticulously from a play. I imagine him speaking into his bathroom mirror, his hands covered in blood, "i am innocent". His voice was smooth, calm. Under the circumstances that was extremely difficult. Either he was telling the truth or he was a very good liar.

He said "I have never met that woman in my life".

Of course we knew that Daniel Letterman was a fan of Miss Judy Sutton as well as the band, the 'Red Devils', attending a number of their concerts in the past. Christopher obviously held the view that it was time to turn up the heat.

"Showing Mr Letterman document one", sliding a piece of paper across the table towards him, all the while giving him the same, cold, intrusive glare.

Document one showed a receipt for a Red Devils concert in late July 2017. Daniel's name was on the ticket, and it showed that he had bought tickets for a further three people. Daniel's hands moved from the armrest of the seat to underneath the table.

"It is quite obvious, Mr Letterman, that you have, in fact met Miss Sutton, before. Daniel stares at his shoes, suddenly extremely interested in his laces. "I advise you to tell the truth, if not, I assure you, you will not like the alternative." Every word Christopher spoke contained just a hint of malice, buried under a mountain of professionalism and thought.

"Who did you bring to the concert, Daniel?, I said, it was now my turn to join the conversation.

He stared at me, he did not answer.

"You studied law at Cambridge did you not?", Norton enquired, knowing full well the answer. Again Daniel Letterman did not answer. Either we were breaking him, or he had a plan. He merely nodded.

"Are you aware that Miss Sutton also studied law at Cambridge, at roughly the same time as you Daniel?"

He shook his head.

Christopher allowed a small smile to show on his aging face, only for a second, he must have thought that he was getting somewhere. The harsh light shone over the room, highlighting small beads of sweat on Letterman's forehead. The room was cold, he was sweating out of panic and fear, or better yet, guilt.