You’d have thought he’d turned up with a crate of tuna and a can opener. Maybe Merlin just really liked Phil’s shoes. They looked like quality—ordinary tan lace-ups, but with the sort of no-styling styling you only get on posh shoes. “Nice shoes,” I said, nodding at them. “Thanks.” He looked down at my feet and smirked. “Are you going out in those?” “Are you dissing my slippers?” They were great hairy brown bear’s-feet ones Gary had bought me for Christmas. Complete with fake claws. “Would I? Just thought it might be a bit hard for the witness to concentrate on her story if you walk in looking like you just trod in a couple of furry animals.” “That’s the idea—put her off guard. Lull her into a false—’scuse me,” I stifled a yawn. “Sense of security. Fancy a coffee before we go?” Phil looked at his watch. “It’ll have to be instant.” “I can do instant.” I led the way into the kitchen, and he leaned on the counter while I clinked around with mugs, spoons and the coffee jar.
