The room swayed a little around Dirk, and he put his hand out against the wall to steady it.

   “Was there any particular service you were engaged to provide for your client?” said Gilks behind him, very quietly.

   “Oh, er, just a small matter,” said Dirk weakly.  “Nothing connected with all this.  No, he, er, didn’t mention any of this kind of thing at all.  Well, look, I can see you’re busy, I think I’d better just collect my fee and leave.  You say he left it out for me?”

   Having said this, Dirk sat heavily on a small bentwood chair standing behind him, and broke it.

   Gilks hauled him back to his feet again, and propped him against the wall.  Briefly he left the room, then came back with a small jug of water and a glass on a tray.  He poured some water into the glass, took it to Dirk and threw it at him.

   “Better?”

   “No,” spluttered Dirk, “can’t you at least turn the record off?”

   “That’s forensic’s job.  Can’t touch anything till the clever dicks have been.  Maybe that’s them now.  Go out on to the patio and get some air.  Chain yourself to the railing and beat yourself up a little,  I’m pushed for time myself.  And try to look less green, will you?  It’s not your colour.”

“Don’t pick it up, pick it up, pick i-

“Don’t pick it up, pick it up, pick i-”