That was as far as I got. There were half a dozen more pages of legalese. Is there an author in the world who goes through all this stuff and understands it? But that wasn’t the point. I’d already read enough.

‘I am never calling any of my books Hawthorne Investigates!’ I said.

‘It was only a suggestion.’ Hawthorne shrugged. ‘It’ll be easy to write,’ he went on. ‘Not too many suspects. Everyone likes the theatre. And why do you think I gathered everyone on the stage like that? I did that for you, mate. It’s a terrific end – just like Agatha Christie!’

‘You did that for the book?’

‘Just trying to help.’

I stared at the pages. ‘Are you seriously telling me that if I don’t sign this contract, you’re going to charge me hundreds of pounds for solving the crime?’

‘I would never do that!’ Hawthorne placed his hand on his heart. ‘I have too much respect for you, Tony. Anyway, it’s thousands of pounds.’

I turned to Hilda. ‘I thought you were on my side.’

‘I’m representing your best interests,’ Hilda assured me.

‘You were against me writing this series!’

‘Not at all. I was annoyed that you sprang it on me without any discussion, but I can already see that it could be a game changer for you. You being in the books is really unusual. You’ve had a great response to The Word is Murder. Four and a half stars from Goodreads and a terrific review in the Mail on Sunday.’

‘Thank God for critics,’ Hawthorne said.

‘If you want to think about it, that’s fine. But this is a fantastic deal – even splitting the royalties sixty-forty.’

‘Fifty-fifty!’

‘We can negotiate.’

I looked down at the sheets of paper in my lap. I knew I’d been backed into a corner, but, quite honestly, there was a part of me that wanted to be there. It was true that Hawthorne had saved my career. More than that, with every case, I was getting closer to him, finding more of his secrets. Now, as well as Reeth, I had a shadowy organisation, a man called Morton, adoptive parents, Roland Hawthorne. My whole life is spent looking for stories. Was I prepared to give up this one?

I took out a pen and sighed.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Where do I sign?’

Acknowledgements

This was an uncomfortable book for me to write and I want to start by thanking my therapist, Dr Lisa Beach, for helping me work through my experiences. I also sought advice from Graham Bartlett, a former detective and author, who explained much of what happened at Tolpuddle Road and gave me useful information about MAPP and the Prison and Probation Service.

I am grateful to Graham Thompson, the theatre manager at the Vaudeville, who showed me round the theatre quite some time after Mindgame had closed, so that I could refresh my memory. I think it’s only fair to mention that the backstage area has been redecorated and modernised since the events described in this book. I also owe an apology, I think, to the director Christopher Nolan. I could not disagree more with Tirian’s view of Tenet and note that he had clearly not seen the finished script as, ultimately, no scenes were shot in Paris.