Nick shrugged. ‘There’s a few people I’ve seen sittin’ with Tommy . . . but I think is probably his brother George you talkin’ about. He’s a bit older and sometimes has breakfast with him.’

‘Does George smoke?’ Jane asked.

Nick frowned. ‘Yes, the big fat Cuban cigars. The smell upsets some of my regular customers as his cigar make more smoke than my bloody frying pans—’

‘Do you know their surname?’ she asked.

‘No, they’ve only been coming in here a few months. I have a little chat sometimes with them, I like a due chiacchiere with my customers – is good for business.’

‘Is George involved with the snooker club?’ Teflon asked.

Nick shrugged. ‘He could be, but I never ask him what he do and he never tell me. Have they done something bad?’

‘We don’t know . . . Some information we received suggests they might have, but for now we’re just trying to find out more about them,’ Jane told him.

‘You said there are a few people you’ve seen sitting at that table with Tommy. Do you know their names?’ Teflon asked.

‘When the inside of the snooker club was being built, he used the cafe like it was his office and discuss the building work – so he was talking to lots of different people.’

‘I meant more recently . . .’ He turned to Jane. ‘Have you got that description of the white lad who wears the designer polo shirts?’

She got her pocket notebook out of her bag and looked for the relevant entry.

‘He’s late twenties to early thirties, five feet eight tall, slim, with blue eyes and wavy blond hair down to his shoulders.’

Nick looked more curious. ‘I thought you said you just wanted to know about two men?’

‘We’re also interested in their associates – any information about them could also be helpful.’

‘Are you the CID from Tottenham?’

Jane and Teflon looked at each other, wondering who should answer and how much they should divulge. PC Bottomley had given Nick a clean bill of health, so Jane decided they could risk being more open with him.

‘We’re from the Flying Squad at Rigg Approach.’

Nick’s bushy eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re from the bloody Sweeney!’

‘We didn’t want to alarm you – that’s why I didn’t mention it initially.’

‘I don’t know anything about any robberies . . . Madonna mia!’

He took a long drag on his cigarette, shaking his head.

‘At present we have no hard evidence that either Tommy or George are involved in a robbery. We are just following up on some information received.’ Jane tried to make it sound as routine as possible.

Nick looked concerned. ‘I understand you have a job to do, but my wife, she is very ill already. If she knew you’d been here asking about a robbery, she would get upset and it would make her breathing worse. Ti prego, enough,’ he said, waving his finger.