Anderton inspected him in silence.

I could always ask for a little herring just to be polite, Macdonald thought.

“Here you go.” The woman put Macdonald’s cup down in front of him.

He picked it up and took a few sips. It was just strong enough and not too hot.

“I found some sugar after all,” she said.

“What an honor to have a policeman in my very own home,” Anderton said. “I didn’t know they made house calls. I thought they took you down to the Yard in the middle of the night, even if it was just a case of a missing hamster.”

Macdonald observed him. The poor guy is just as uptight as everyone else, he thought. Chatter is the daughter of nervousness. Maybe he eats these grotesque servings just to unwind. “We appreciate your getting in touch with us, Mr. Anderton,” he said, taking a pen and notepad out of the right pocket of his jacket. He had hung his coat in the hallway.

“I was just doing my civic duty.” Anderton stretched out his arms as if auditioning to be a statue on the Common.

“Not everyone is so conscientious.”

“Not that I have a lot of information to give you.”

“You saw a man. Is that correct, Mr. Anderton?”

“Call me John.”

“Okay, John, you told us that you had seen a man talking to a younger guy.”

“The sun was setting and I had been down at the Windmill Pub, and after we had a couple of beers, somebody said that the night-”

“I’m most interested in what happened at Mount Pond.”

“Like I was saying, it was getting dark. I left the pub by myself and turned off Windmill Drive toward the pond.”

“What for?”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you walk straight ahead across the avenue?”

“What difference does it make?”

The woman was finished straightening up and stood by the stove with a towel in her hand. She looked out at the street with her back turned to them.

“If it’s so damn important, I had to take a piss,” Anderton said. “There’s some thick bushes between the pond and bandstand that come in handy if you have to answer the call of nature on your way home from the pub.”