I pick the cash up again and take it out to its place in the meat room. Then I walk down to James’s area. I lie down on my back on the long grass at the edge. I talk to myself, babbling about the money, the bad guys, Tito, Shiflon, Ben, and the father I lost who had more to him than I ever realised. I feel like I’ve lost him all over again. Eventually, the words come back to Elaine. I am trying to suppress the anger I am feeling towards her. Why did she do all this to me? If she had just told me, I could have helped. I wonder if she knew the money came from Dad, because she never seemed that interested when I told her. But all the other stuff I know tells me it is time to confront her.

But first, I have a question for Constable Murray. I know I should be telling her things, but a question keeps bubbling up through the black mud of my brain. When I call, somebody else in the station answers, but I am quickly put through to Murray. There aren’t many people in the station.

‘Spent the money yet?’

‘No, but thank you for everything you did.’

‘I did it for my mother as much as anyone.’

This is going to be a brief call, because Constable Murray seems to have decided that her job gives her state sanction to dump on me.

‘I was wondering if I could ask a question about the investigation into the stolen crockery?’

‘Haven’t we done this?’ The sigh is back in her voice.

‘It’s a different question.’

‘One question. I’ll do what I can to help.’

‘Why did they test the crockery for “everything I could think of”?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not a detective.’ The sigh is replaced by a lilt. Is it the money that makes her dislike me? It’s more than that. She enjoys my discomfort. I am the light in her day. At least I’m that for someone. But then she says, ‘My understanding, and this is only from office hearsay, is that they have a hunch about something unusual going on in our district. Specifically in your area. I don’t think they know what. The only person I can think of who behaves “unusually” is you.’

I suppose people tell the police to go and fuck themselves, but it’s not really in my armoury. She may be goading me.

Her goad having failed, she continues, ‘The rumour mill has it that they’ve traced a link from somebody bad in the city to our little oasis. They haven’t shared with us yet.’

‘Well, thank you very much. You’ve been very helpful.’

‘Perish the thought.’

I am about to give her something, maybe even everything I have, but then that last comment pulls the shutters down.