This memory made me feel sad. He still felt kind of ‘present’, like he was stuck to me from last night’s meeting. I pictured him bounding into the office reception and spouting off his usual friendly bullshit or sticking his foot through my office door to introduce me to his latest pair of shit socks. My eyes watered and a tear threatened to form. I obviously wasn’t the last person to see him, but the police seemed to think that might be the case. Do they think I had something to do with his death? Surely not. Should I try to track down Satsuma in case I need her for an alibi? Should I track her down anyway, just for the prospect of seeing her again? I needed to talk to someone and think this all through. Fortunately, Grace was just next door, and she was expecting me.

4

When I first moved into my flat, I used to call my neighbour Dog Woman. That was the only thing I knew about her, that she owned a dog. My block of flats has a central stairway and lift that serves all five floors. Each floor has a walkway off which the front doors of the flats are situated. On my side of the stairway there are three flats. Dog Woman is closest to the stairway, and then there is my flat, and then an empty flat awaiting refurbishment following a fire in the kitchen that was apparently caused by a very dry naan bread spontaneously igniting. (That’s what I believe, anyway.)

On the day I moved in I had to pass Dog Woman’s front door on numerous occasions. It was slightly ajar, and every time I passed I could sense that someone was looking at me. Once I’d finished moving my stuff in, I had a cup of tea and a slice of Battenberg and went next door to introduce myself. By this time the door was shut and there was no reply when I rang the front doorbell. I could, however, hear a dog barking inside and the muffled sound of its owner telling the dog to shush itself.