“You wanted me to get involved here, you practically shoved me into it, and now I’m involved and I’m staying that way. You don’t get to keep changing your mind every few days: Fetch the stick, Stephen, drop the stick, Stephen, fetch the stick, Stephen . . . I’m not your bitch, any more than I’m Detective Kennedy’s.”

“Actually,” I said, “you are. I’m going to be keeping an eye on you, Stevie my friend, and if I get just one hint that you’re still poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, I’m going to take that post-mortem report and that fingerprint report to Detective Kennedy and tell him where I got them. Then you’ll be in his bad books, you’ll be in my bad books, and more than likely you’ll be at that desk in the arsehole of nowhere. So I’m telling you one more time: back off. Do you get that?”

Stephen was too stunned and too young to keep his face under control; he was staring at me with a naked, blazing mix of fury, amazement and disgust. This was exactly what I was aiming for—the snottier he got with me, the further he would be from the various forms of nasty that were coming up—but somehow it still stung. “Man,” he said, shaking his head, “I don’t get you. I really don’t.”

I said, “Ain’t that the truth,” and started fishing for my wallet.

“And I don’t need you buying me coffee. I can pay my own way.”

If I kicked him in the ego too hard, he might keep chasing the case just to prove to himself that he still had a pair. “Your choice,” I said. “And, Stephen?” He kept his head down, rummaging in his pockets. “Detective. I’m going to need you to look at me.” I waited till he cracked and reluctantly met my eyes before I said, “You’ve done some excellent work here. I know this isn’t how either of us wanted it to end, but all I can tell you is that I’m not going to forget it. When there’s something I can do for you—and there will be—I’m going to be all over it.”

“Like I said. I can pay my own way.”

“I know you can, but I like paying my debts too, and I owe you. It’s been a pleasure working with you, Detective. I look forward to doing it again.”

I didn’t try to shake hands. Stephen shot me a dark look that gave away nothing, slapped a tenner onto the table—which counted as a serious gesture, from someone on newbie wages—and shrugged on his coat. I stayed where I was and let him be the one who walked away.