‘Vianne?’ He turned and shot me that Christmas-tree smile. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ His face fell.

‘The name’s Zozie.’ I gave him a look. ‘And you could work on your charm a bit.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I mean you could at least pretend to be pleased to see me.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’ He looked abashed.

‘So how’s the job?’

‘Not bad,’ he said.

I smiled at that. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s find somewhere dry to talk. Where are you staying?’

He named a backstreet dive off Rue de Clichy – just the kind of place I’d expect.

‘Let’s go there. I don’t have long.’

I knew the place – it was cheap and grubby-looking, but it did take cash, which matters a lot to someone like Roux. There was no key to the front door, but an electronic keypad with a code. I watched him enter it – 825436 – his profile lit sharply in the crude orange of the street-light. File that away for later use. Codes of all kinds are useful, I thought.

We went inside. I saw his room. A dark interior; a carpet that felt slightly sticky beneath my feet; a square cell the colour of old chewing gum with a single bed and not much else; no window; no chair; just a sink, a radiator and a bad print on the wall.

‘Well?’ said Roux.

‘Try these,’ I said. I took out a small gift-wrapped box from my coat and handed it to him. ‘I made them myself. On the house.’

‘Thanks,’ he said sourly, and dropped the box on to the bed without giving it a second glance.

Once more I felt a sting of annoyance.

One truffle, I thought, is that too much to ask? The symbols on the box were powerful (I’d used the red circle of Lady Blood Moon, the seductress, the Eater of Hearts), but just one taste of what was inside would make him so much easier to persuade—

‘So when can I call?’ said Roux impatiently.

I sat down on the end of the bed. ‘It’s complicated,’ I began. ‘You took her by surprise, you know. Turning up the way you did – out of the blue, especially when she’s with someone else.’

He laughed at that, a bitter sound. ‘Ah, yes. Le Tresset. Mr Big.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll cash the cheque for you.’

He looked at me. ‘You know about that?’

‘I know Thierry. He’s the kind of man who can’t even shake another man’s hand without seeing how many bones he can break. And he’s jealous of you.’

‘Jealous?’

‘Of course.’

He grinned, looking genuinely amused for a second. ‘Because I’ve got everything, haven’t I? The money, the looks, the place in the country—’

‘You’ve got more than that,’ I told him.

‘What?’

‘She loves you, Roux.’