My neighbours? You know what? I wouldn’t lift a finger to help those people. If I saw their house being burgled, I wouldn’t bother to phone the police. In fact, I’d help the thieves load up their swag myself.’Cooper was looking at Richard Nowak’s large, powerful hands. They were gripping a glass and a half-empty bottle of whisky. Nowak already smelled of alcohol and his face was flushed.‘We’re thinking about a particular set of neighbours,’ said Cooper. ‘The Barrons.’‘Jake Barron. He’s such an aggressive man. Have you spoken to him?’‘He’s still critically ill in hospital, sir. Serious head injuries, following the assault on Tuesday night.’‘Oh, yes. Of course.’‘Had you forgotten?’‘I don’t think about the Barrons all the time. Why would I?’Nowak put the bottle down on the table in his kitchen and looked at the glass thoughtfully. Perhaps he wasn’t so drunk as he’d appeared at first. It was very early in the day, after all.‘Last time we spoke to you, you talked about how the police might react if you took the law into your own hands.’‘Not me personally.
