You are reliant on Aaron Fowler lying in court to protect you. Be assured that he will not be able to. His dealings with you are entirely unbefitting a police officer, he has no right to meddle with my private affairs in an official capacity. And your relationship with him is not one that he will wish to admit in court. If he is foolish enough to try I will not concern myself with his reputation when I destroy yours.

Yours sincerely

Paul Napier-Fox

“Christ,” Aaron said.

“Indeed. I’ve a few questions.”

“I’m sure you do.” Aaron wasn’t sure what to say. The sheer barrage on so many fronts was overwhelming. “I’m sorry. I had no idea they would go at you like this.”

Joel sat back. “I’d like to know what’s going on, please, since it’s very much my business now. You can start with who ‘they’ are, because don’t ask me to believe it’s pure chance I’ve had your cousin and the Sabinis come down on me at the same time.”

“I’ll tell you if you like, but not here.”

“Where?”

“My flat? I doubt it makes a difference now.”

“That somehow makes me feel extremely unhappy,” Joel said through his teeth. “Could you possibly do or say something reassuring?”

Aaron wished he could think of what that might be. “Pudding?”

“What?”

“They do delicious puddings here. Would something sweet help?”

“My life is falling apart and you’re recommending pudding.”

“Feeding you has always helped so far,” Aaron pointed out, and there was a tiny relaxation in Joel’s face that emboldened him to add, “They do a thing called dolce Torino—sponge biscuits, chocolate and hazelnuts. It’s delicious. And sweet tea is good for shock, so—”

“—therefore pudding must be?” Joel finished. “I’d call you an idiot except that I didn’t have any lunch because of all the fuckery and actually I am in no hurry to find out how my life is going to be upended for the, what, fourth time, so yes, why not, let’s have pudding. You’re paying.”

Angelo arrived in response to Aaron’s raised hand. Aaron asked for a dolce Torino for his friend and another glass of wine for them both, and got a raised eyebrow from Joel. “Are we making a night of it?”

Yes, Aaron could have said, in a different life. I’m going to watch you eat chocolate and make those noises of pleasure that go straight to my groin, and we’re both going to have that second glass and go back to my flat, and then—

“Dutch courage,” he said. He nodded thanks as Angelo brought wine and sweet. “Try that.”

Joel took a spoonful. His face convulsed. “Oh God. Oh my God. This is— Can I eat all of this?”

“I don’t think I’m up to fighting you for it.”