In the evening, I put the new box on the kitchen bench, fatigued with the game. I consider throwing it in the rubbish tip, and forgetting about it. With a knife, I rip at the top of the box. It does not hold ash, or anything like it. I pull out the packaging, and reach in for a large, round, flattish object. What emerges is a big, smooth plate — a platter, I guess. As it comes out, I can only see its back, which is speckled in a blue-and-white web. It is large and solid, but light. I guess that’s a craftsmanship thing. Even I know it has a particular beauty.

I turn it over, and hold it in my outstretched palms, admiring it. But I don’t admire for long, because the platter has a photo stuck to the centre of it. It has been hastily and inexpertly done. The photo is not quite centred, and one edge curls upwards, away from the surface. I look closely at the photo, and recognise Tito Slade in a suit and tie, smiling, holding some sort of award. It is pleasant enough. Innocuous even, but underneath the photo in a dark felt-tip pen are the words, ‘If you don’t want him in a plate, give back the boxes.’ I have to hold the platter tightly to stop it slipping from my hands. Why would they use Tito to threaten me? Do they think we were that close? Who would dig Tito’s body up to prove a point?

I have to tell Elaine.

‘Dave?’ There is no annoyance in her voice.

‘I’ve got something I need to show you. Will you be at home for a while?’

‘I will. I’ve got something for you, too.’

‘I’m coming right now.’

She is waiting for me at that front-garden gate near where I found her. Her face is wet with tears. The security guard is standing off to the side with his arms crossed. When I get near her, she puts an arm around me, but I keep the box between us. She guides me into her kitchen, and I put my box on her bench. Elaine is very quiet, and I think she might be shaking. I’m not asking myself why.

‘I just got it. It’s a platter, and it has a photo on it.’

She lets out a small cry, and covers her mouth.

I pull open the flaps of the box, and she puts her hands inside. ‘It’s a picture of Tito.’