There would be eight papers to look through. Fowler would attend and write down his impressions, which he guaranteed would not be shown to anyone until the case was concluded, or used for any purpose but the test. It was a very professional note, written by hand. Joel read it about six times, sinking into the black letters, feeling the maelstrom of Fowler’s tensions and wants, and then gave up, rolled onto his bed, and put his right hand to urgent use. It still didn’t feel as good as the left had, but if anyone did a prosthetic for that specific function, Joel hadn’t heard about it.

He was undeniably nervous when Fowler arrived for their appointment on a dark grey Thursday afternoon. He hadn’t bought a new shirt or anything stupid like that, but he might have got his hair cut, and had a decent shave while he was there. He wanted to look good, and he wanted to get this right.

Not just for Fowler either. If he was deluding himself and simply making up his responses to handwriting he should know. He probably wouldn’t stop doing it, because what the blazes else was he to do, but he should know.

Fowler arrived right on time, of course. Joel couldn’t prevent himself smiling. “Hello, Detective Sergeant.”

“You really don’t have to call me that. How are you?”

“Very well. Tea? Kettle’s on.”

“I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t.” Fowler looked around. “Suppose I sit at the table, to make notes?”

“And so I can’t read your face?”

“You couldn’t read my face if you tried, because I don’t know anything for you to read. There are eight pieces of writing in this envelope. Some of them are from suspects in the case, and some are from uninvolved people. Each was marked with a number by the officer on the case; I don’t know which is which. I propose that you assess each hand, and I’ll take notes. When you’ve done, put the papers back in the envelope, and I’ll put in my notes. We seal it, and both sign and date it across the seal, and it won’t be opened unless or until the case is solved.”

“Seems fair.” Joel felt distinctly jangly now.

“We’ve done our best to make this watertight. Which means, if you get it right, it’s going to be very hard to argue with your claims.”

That was hardly terrifying at all. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

He brought over the tea. Fowler handed him the papers and prepared a notepad. Joel took out the sheaf, feeling his heart thump, and looked at the first, which had a circled 1 in the corner.