Grace perked right up and handed me a twenty-pound note. ‘Well, go and buy a couple of large pies and some wine and beer. I could do with a boost. Take Lassoo with you. He needs a bit of fresh air. Oh, and take a poop bag. He didn’t go this morning when I took him down.’

As I left the estate, I noticed Boiler Suit Man still working under the bonnet of the Citroën. He looked up just as I was passing the play area and shouted over to me:

‘Hey, the nettle thing worked a treat. I should employ you as my personal physician. Good on you!’

He gave me a thumbs-up and went back to his work. I was noticeably chuffed with myself.

Lassoo did his usual trick and ran over to the bit of the play area where the see-saw used to be. He did his business and then started nosing around the walls of the opposite block of flats. Just then, my squirrel mate rushed down the trunk of a tree and gave me the stink eye.

‘Oh, so you are in the shit now, isn’t it though?’ I asked on his behalf.

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,’ I replied to myself.

‘Oh, so John McCoy, who we both know is a dangerous bastard, has made threats around and towards you and is telling you not to speak to the police.’

‘Yeah, but I am going to speak to the police.’

‘I would think around that decision a bit deeper than you obviously have. What about Emily and Grace? Don’t you think they should have a say around that course of action?’

‘Weird part of it is that Emily seems to have disappeared from her home. Well, at least that’s what McCoy said.’

‘I’m so sorry to have to say this, but you need to ask if McCoy is actually telling you the truth. You might want to think around that for a good long while.’

The squirrel suddenly rushed away and I walked on to attend to Lassoo’s poop. As I grabbed the lump, I felt something hard caught between my fingers. I released the mess from my grip and let it fall onto the grass. And there it was, the corn cob dongle.

18

I abandoned the idea of fetching the booze and pie and took the dongle straight up to Grace’s flat. She cleaned it up and dried it thoroughly with her 1970s hairdryer, which sounded like it was powered by a moped engine.

‘There you go: good as new. All ready for the coppers,’ she declared.

‘Do you think the police will be able to hack the password?’ I asked.

‘Maybe. Depends on how clever Brendan was with the password.’

‘Well, at least it won’t be my problem.’

Grace stared out of the window for a moment then spoke to me in a very deliberate tone: