Mitch stared at me, frowning.

“Well of course you didn’t do it, you were… well, you know…”

“Sleeping?”

“Sleeping. Exactly.”

“Oh, right, well then, can someone have a look at this please?” I stood up and lifted my arm in the air, jangling the attached cuff in the direction of the police in attendance.

“Hang on,” said one of the policemen. “I’m not convinced about this. I mean…”

“As I was saying officer,” said Mitch. “The murder was committed by Avelina Mergen.”

The policeman started to walk towards me.

“The lawyer?” I asked.

Mitch nodded.

“He’s right,” she said. “It was me.”

I looked over to her sitting at a table by the bar, relaxed, sipping a white wine.

“It wasn’t her,” I said.

The policeman stopped walking towards me.

“It wasn’t?” said Mitch. He let out a small sigh. “Come on Clint, I’m trying to help you here.”

“It was,” she said again. “I killed him.”

“See?” said Mitch. “What more do you need?”

He nodded towards the officer who started to walk towards her.

“I though we already talked about this, Mitch. What about evidence?” I said.

The policeman stopped and stared at Mitch again.

“Ah, yes, I know but she’s admitted to it. Now, erm, shut up will you?”

The policeman hovered in the middle of the room for a second then began to speak. “Alright,” he said deliberately. “If she didn’t do it then it was definitely you.”

He pointed at me.

“Hang on, officer,” said Mitch. “This murder was committed by Mr Bartholomew Travers. Take him away.”

“What?” barked Travers.

“Listen,” said Smith, rubbing his damaged limb. “I just need to go to the toilet, can I pop out for a second?”

“Oh I wouldn’t mate,” said the policeman. “There’s been some sort of, I don’t know, outbreak or something. It looks like a septic tank has exploded in there and there’s people lying around…”