There was some good news to start with: his colleagues had found a tarpaulin after a hunt through rubbish tips, and yes, there were appropriate bloodstains, so he could push forward his inquiries. The second paragraph tersely invited me for a lunchtime pint the following day, which I couldn’t help feeling sounded fairly ominous. We would meet at my house first, twelvish. Apart from this there was no evidence that he and Gavin might have spent the evening tearing my house apart. I’d said good night to Richard Fairfax on my front doorstep. The question of coffee or more had simply not arisen. After a token sip of champagne, he’d been silent for the latter part of the evening, and I’d seen him slide a couple of tablets into his mouth two or three times. It didn’t need the arrival of the monstrous carp to make him go pale. During the short drive back from the Botanical Gardens we’d talked in an uncritical way of some of our fellow guests and of his desire to grow better azaleas.
What do You think about Dying On Principle (2014)?
