“I don’t know what the crime is,” Fowler pointed out. “But I also didn’t ask my colleague to avoid any specific type. I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that.”

His hand had gone to the back of his neck. Joel flapped the last paper. “Forget it.”

Number eight read to be a thoroughly inoffensive sort of person who probably carried the collection plate in church, and knitted toys or mended children’s bicycles as a hobby. It was something of a relief. Joel shuffled the papers together, put them back in the envelope, and tossed it onto the table. “Well, there you go.”

“So, your conclusion?”

“Ugh. Two is very capable of doing bad things in a mindless sort of way, and five is an addict with all that entails. But three and seven are the ones that stand out. I’d say definitely seven except he’s quite clever and he’s got away with things before, so you might struggle to pin things on him. Three has the edge if it was poison pen letters or blackmail or forging a will, some sort of crime on paper, because of the personality. Is that hedging my bets too much?”

“It seems reasonable.” Fowler put his own notes into the envelope, sealed it and signed across the flap. Joel signed in his turn. “That was certainly interesting.”

“Let me know what happens, won’t you? And I don’t know if there’s anything you can do about number seven, but look into him. Because I bet someone has complained about him, and I think you should take it seriously.”

“Noted.” Fowler hesitated. “I will let you know what we discover; I don’t know when that might be. Well. Thanks.”

“Will I see you before then?”

He had not meant to say that. Fowler froze in his tracks.

“Uh,” Joel added. “I just—you know. If you fancy a pint? Or your Italian place sounded good. Not that— I just thought—” The words were propelling themselves out of his stupid mouth, apparently wanting him to sound like a needy idiot who courted policemen. “If you wanted.”

“Well—ongoing case.” Fowler raised the envelope as though Joel’s words were arrows and the paper a shield. “Probably best not.”

“No, of course. Find out I’m not a crook first.”

“I didn’t—”

“No, you’re quite right. Silly question,” Joel said. “Get the results and let me know as and when.”

“I think that’s best,” Fowler said. “Thanks for doing this. Oh, the money is on the table.”

I bet you say that to all the girls, Joel thought, but he’d fucked this up too much to say it. He glanced over and saw three pounds. “That’s too much. It only took an hour.”