A look of horror swam across Verity’s face, and her eyes widened. ‘Oh, yes of course. How are you?’ She looked away, seemingly uninterested in the answer.

He was used to such looks from white people. Looks of superiority, disbelief that he could be running his own restaurant, and sometimes just fear. Several years ago in south London he had picked up a purse that an elderly white lady had dropped outside a newsagents. He chased after her, calling out. When she finally turned and he held out the object, she had flinched as if he was about to strike her. After taking the purse, the first thing she had done was to check the contents. The gratitude when it came was perfunctory. He was upset about it for days.

So Anton was used to strange expressions on the faces of white people. But this one he didn’t know how to categorise. Maybe it was racism. He was darker than Leticia and had inherited from his Windrush generation parents some long Jamaican vowels. She could pass for white English on the phone, he couldn’t. To her it seemed a small thing, but when you see small nuances in attitude on a daily basis it confirms your fears, and those tender spots eventually become calluses.

There were only two reasons this woman might be here to see Leroy. Anton knew most of Leroy’s women, but there were always new ones. She was probably his type, skinny and high-class, but didn’t seem quite young enough. So it must be the other reason. Her anxiety and edginess confirmed it to him.

He looked forward to telling Leticia all about it. Her boss wasn’t a murderer. But she was a drug user.

Anton St Jeanne arrived back at the flat a little before two a.m. He wondered what it was that he had said to so upset Leticia. She’d replied to only one of his texts, just a terse be home soon around noon. Nothing after that. And she wasn’t answering the phone at home. When they had a row, he could normally see it coming. The time two years ago when the female customer made a pass at him. Another time, his failure to show for a play because of a crisis at the restaurant. She had bought expensive tickets, and one went to waste. But this, he just couldn’t fathom. She had a bee in her bonnet about her boss being a killer. It was crazy. It just didn’t make any sense at all. Having seen the woman, he was surely right to have dismissed the idea. Still, maybe he had been too heavy about the way he did it.