I was about to mention the dongle to them when Wilmott received a telephone call and indicated to his partner that they had to leave. They thanked me for the information and shouted that they would be in touch as they strode away. I was quite pleased that I hadn’t had to mention the dongle. I felt I owed it to Brendan to try to look at its contents before telling them. Brendan had made an effort to give it to me personally and I wanted to do him the service of checking its contents before handing it over. It might be personal stuff, might even be pictures of socks. It was best to wait. They hadn’t asked me about my Satsuma alibi, which I found strange, but decided was probably a good sign. I wanted them to leave us both alone.

I arrived at the coffee shop to find Wayne cleaning one of the four round tables that dominated the interior. He was wearing a tight black shirt that shone brightly under the harsh LCD lights of the café. On his legs were a beige pair of what I call Parsnip Trousers, the ones that cling to the leg and taper towards the bottom, gripping the ankle like a vice.

‘You again,’ he said. ‘On a Sunday. You really must have the hots for me.’

‘Not so much you, Wayne, as your trousers.’

Wayne stood erect with his hands on his hips and his legs slightly parted. ‘Yes, they are very cosseting. Are you thinking they look restrictive? Cos believe me that is not the case.’

‘That’s good news, Wayne. They do look a bit grippy, especially around your ankles and your balls.’

‘Absolutely not. It’s like wearing a liquid hug. What can I get you, mate?’

‘Two medium cappuccinos and two—’

‘… slices of Battenberg,’ he sang as he waddled off back behind the counter. Lassoo followed him as far as the glass display of cakes and sweetmeats. He put one paw up onto the glass and turned his head downwards to fix his stare on a ring donut. He then allowed his paw to slide down the front of the glass and replaced it with his other paw. He continued to swap paws throughout the visit, never once moving his glare from the donut.

‘I met a girl the other night in the pub,’ I blurted, taking myself by surprise.

‘Is she aware that you met her?’

‘Yeah, we spoke to each other and made a good connection.’

‘So, are you going to be seeing her again before she takes a restraining order out on you?’

‘Yeah, I saw her again outside her block of flats.’

‘What do you mean “outside her block of flats”? Have you been spying on her? Jesus, she needs to get that restraining order pronto like Tonto.’

‘No, I wasn’t spying on her. I was just reconnecting with her.’

‘And did you reconnect? Or did she just reject?’