The corners of his mouth turned down and he swallowed.

“There’s… well, there’s excrement up the walls and… well, to be honest with all that’s going one here,” he said. “I just locked them in there.”

“Erm, Officer?” Mitch tried to re-establish control of the room.

“Hang on a minute Mitch,” I said. “I don’t think it was him. There’s no way those fingers could have wired up the device that electrocuted him. He hasn’t got the dexterity.”

“Electrocuted?”

“Yeah. Wide eyes, hair standing on end, smell of burning. It’s a dead giveaway isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. That and the massive bloody battery and wires in the golf cart thingy.”

“And he was soaking. Conducts the electricity a treat. Sprinklers mysteriously came on before it happened did they?” I looked over to the lawyer who nodded dutifully.

“Device?”

“Yeah. Arthritis. Didn’t do it.”

Not one to take this lying down. Mitch rounded on the lawyer.

“Well one of you two must have done it. I don’t care what the evidence says!” he said, his eyes darting from the lawyer to Travers and back again. “You. You did do it didn’t you?”

“I told you I did,” said the lawyer. “Now prove it or piss off.”

“Right,” said Mitch. “Well then.”

He wagged his finger at the lawyer.

“Ah,” he said, turning back to Travers. “But I did find a cigar butt on the corpse. There!”

He beamed at Travers. He turned around and beamed at me.

I shook my head. He stopped beaming.

“No?”

“Nope,” I said. “Different brand isn’t it?”

Mitch stamped across the room and snatched the cigar Travers was holding.

“Shit,” he said and gave it back. Mitch turned around to look at me, “Where are you getting this from Clint?”

I shrugged.

“Oh bollocks to it,” said Mitch. “If you’re so clever you work it out then smart arse.”

The policeman who had been hovering in the centre of the room finally snapped into action.