‘Yeah, sort of.’

‘Well, he was found dead after he left the pub and it seems that I was the last person to speak to him.’

‘Fucking hell, really?’

‘Yeah, and the police have spoken to me and I might need an alibi for the time he left the pub to when I got home. I just wondered if you were okay with me giving them your name and address?’

Her response was swift and delivered with a hint of panic and alarm:

‘No, I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that. It could get me into big trouble and I just don’t need that right now.’

‘Are you on the run or something? Have you been importing faulty vape pens or selling stolen curtaining?’ I said, trying to inject a hint of lightness into the moment.

‘No, I’m just answering your question. I am not okay with you giving my details to the police.’

It was a very clear and certain response, so, being a shithouse, I immediately backed off.

‘Hey, no worries, that’s fair enough. I had to ask. I don’t want to get you into any trouble. Listen, can I help you with the bike?’

‘No, please, just go. I’m sorry I can’t help. Please don’t come looking for me again.’

‘No, I won’t. Don’t worry, I’m not a suspect or anything. I’m sure it’s no big deal.’ As she turned away I remembered the book. ‘Hey, I’ve got the book you left in the pub.’ I held the book out, hoping it might bring her back to me.

‘That’s okay, you keep it.’

She flashed me a weak smile and turned away to drag the bike back up the stairwell. I so wanted to help her, but it wasn’t what she wanted. I had written my name and telephone number on the inside flap of the book, hoping she might phone me one day. As I stood there watching her leave, with the book still in my hand, it dawned on me that we would probably never speak again.

7

It was around 3pm when I returned to my flat. Grace had watched me park up and was loitering on the walkway when I emerged from the lift.

‘Did you find her?’ was her greeting.

‘Yes, I did,’ I replied as she invited herself into my flat for a cup of tea.

‘Did you find out anything more about those coppers?’ I asked.

‘Nothing. So for the time being at least I remain alert and suspicious. Have they contacted you at all?’

‘No.’

‘Hmmm.’

She plonked herself down on the settee and I fetched her a mug of tea and a Viscount biscuit – the minty ones that come individually foil-wrapped.

‘Is that all you’ve got?’ she asked as she placed her sage green slipper booties on the cushion next to her.

‘Do you not like a Viscount?’ I replied.