Jacob Handscomb glared up at Yarrow and Harding as they entered the interview room where he had been held for the past hour. He cradled a mug of tea in his weather worn hands as if it was a delicate piece of rare Chinese porcelain.
‘Say what you’ve got to say and be done with it. I’ve got a farm to run and I can’t be sat here wasting my time with you lot again. A farm don’t run by itself, you know,’ Handscomb said loudly, ‘Get on with it and then take me back t’farm. Why to buggery you couldn’t say what you had to say up there rather than dragging me down here, I don’t know. Waste o’ b****y time. My time.’
‘Oh, I doubt you’ll be leaving here very soon, Mr Handscomb,’ Yarrow said politely, ‘there are still a number of unresolved issues to clear up first. That car in your barn for instance
