He'd discussed the situation with Maggie and they'd agreed he had no choice. He had to ask his mum straight out. " M ama," he said. "Why would someone want you dead?"

She shuffled in her seat. "Why what?"

"You heard me."

She picked up her cup, took a large sip. "What nonsense is this? It's not funny."

"I'm perfectly serious."

"Why would you think someone wants me dead?" she said.

He couldn't answer that. Not now.

When he got home, Maggie was alone in the sitting room watching TV. Carlos noticed she'd been biting her fingernails.

"How did it go?" she said.

"Where's Sofia?"

"Sleeping. How did it go?" she repeated.

He told her what had happened.

Maggie shook her head. "You have to tell her."

"Tell her what?"

"The truth. About you. About the business."

"I can't do that." His mother had no idea what he really did for a living and Carlos wanted to keep it that way.

"Then what? This is eating you up, Charlie."

Was it? He hadn't noticed. She was probably right. He was trying not to notice, but he did want to find out who'd paid for the contract. It wasn't just curiosity either. His mother could be a pain in the arse, sure, but he couldn't believe someone would hate her enough to want her dead. And at a very decent price, too.

"What are you going to do?" Maggie asked.

"I'm going to look in on Sofia," he said, watching Maggie tighten her lips, shake her head fast, like she was trying to dislodge water from her ears. A familiar gesture that had become more exaggerated since Sofia was born.

"And then what?" Maggie said.

"One step at a time, mi esposa impaciente. Patience, love."

Back at his mother's a few days later, sitting on the settee with another cup of coffee. She sat forward in one of the bucket seats to refill her glass from the bottle of vodka on the coffee table.