“He’s eating breakfast,” the voice announced, as though interrupting it was out of the question.

She wants me to leave so she can finish making her kippers, he thought. The pungent odor of fried herring wafted through the crack in the door. “It won’t take long,” he said.

“But…”

“Just a few minutes of your time.” He put his badge back and waited. The chain rattled as it was removed. They must have spent a fortune on security, he thought. Nothing left over for a sturdy door. One of these days it’s going to collapse under the weight of its own apparatus.

She was younger than he had guessed. Not very pretty but in the bloom of youth, although that would soon be gone as well. She’s probably worrying about it already, he thought.

“Come in.” She pointed toward the living room. “I’ll tell John you’re here.”

“Show him in, dammit.” The man’s voice echoed through the hallway, his words both aggressive and jumbled.

He’s got a mouthful of eggs, Macdonald thought. Or bacon.

The kitchen reminded him of the café. The fumes from the frying pan burned his eyes.

Anderton was ruddy and stockily built.

He likes his cholesterol, Macdonald thought. I hope he doesn’t croak while I’m here.

“Perhaps the constable would like a little something.” Anderton waved at his wife and the stove at the same time. Apparently Macdonald could take his pick.

“No, thanks,” Macdonald said. “I already ate.”

“It’s fried with curry,” Anderton said.

“Very tempting, but I’ll pass.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked, as though Macdonald could use some fattening up. “Not even a hamburger?” His smile revealed a set of yellow teeth. “A Big Mac, maybe?”

“Tea would be great.”

“We’re out of milk,” the woman said.

“That’s fine.”

“No sugar either.” Her eyes were on Anderton.

I wonder if they’re married, Macdonald thought.