“I’m not sure Benny thinks of me as a friendly face.”

“Well, that shows good judgement, but whether he likes you or not is beside the point. The fact is, he knows who you are. He’s not going to fear the worst if you show up, he’s just going to think his pension’s at risk.” She pursed her lips and thought some more. “Okay. If a couple of Park people are running rogue, I want to know why. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do, John. I’ll find out where Benny Manors is. And then you find out what he knows that’s so important to two of my agents.”

“And what do I do if they come back before then?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, John. When it comes to saving your own skin, you generally do.”

Which was as much of a compliment as he was likely to receive from that quarter. Finding the nearest café, he drank a large Americano, black, while thinking about the peach brandy back in the flat. This didn’t make him an alcoholic, he decided. The probability that he’d drink some once he got home did, though. It was another bright morning, everybody looking happier as a result, John Bachelor excepted. He didn’t think he’d improved his situation. On the other hand, he’d prevented Edward and Richard from spoiling it first, so maybe that counted as a victory. Something to warm his cockles, when he ended up sleeping on a pavement.

And when he got home, Richard Pynne was in his sitting room, Solly’s sitting room, holding a ceramic cat, plucked from Solly’s collection of knick-knacks.

“You have a key,” John said, redundantly.

“I have a key.” He nodded towards the other chair. “Do sit.”

John sat.

“You’ve been out early.”

“Places to go, people to see. You know how it is.”

“And is any of this activity connected with, ah, with the matter in hand?”

“With finding Benny Manors?”

Pynne nodded.

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

“Good. So where is he?”

“I said it was connected,” John said. “I didn’t say I had a definitive answer yet.”

“I’m here to remind you of the, of the urgency involved.”

“Nobody said anything about it being urgent,” John said.

“That was implicit in our interview.”

“I know who you are,” John said. “You’re the one took over Hannah Weiss.”

Pynne’s face darkened. It made him look younger, somehow; not an angry man, but a sulky boy. He let the cat fall to the floor. The carpet was thick enough that this didn’t matter. “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re like me,” said John. “Peaked early. You get used to it. You just have to not care that other people are doing so much better.”

Pynne looked round. “I haven’t sunk this low,” he said. “An old man’s flat. An old man’s life. And none of it yours, not really.”

“Can I offer you some peach brandy? It’s surprisingly moreish.”