‘I’m Gravy,’ I called back. ‘I’ve come about Benjy.’ See, the thing was, I needed to tell someone. I needed someone to know what I knew.

‘Who?’

‘Benjy. Your friend Benjy.’

‘I don’t have a friend called Benjy.’

I looked at the piece of paper. ‘It says Celine Watts.’

‘It’s pronounced Se-leen,’ she called out. Then the door opened an inch and I could see a bit of her face and one of her eyes. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Gravy. A pal of Benjy’s. Look.’ I held the paper up so she could read it. ‘It was in his car, and now he’s… he’s had a bit of an accident.’

She stared hard at the piece of paper, and then her eyes met mine. ‘Who sent you?’ she asked. She sounded scared.

‘Nobody sent me.’

‘Are you going to kill me?’

‘No.’ I think I sounded properly shocked.

‘You don’t look like you are.’

‘I’m not.’

‘But I don’t know anyone called Benjy.’

‘He had your name in his car.’ I pushed the piece of paper closer to her.

‘So I see.’ The door had opened another couple of inches. I could see more of her now. Her hair was brown and short. Her face was round and shiny. Her eyes were green. ‘So this friend of yours called Benjy, he had my name and address in his car?’

I nodded, and she looked over my shoulder.

‘Is that his car or yours?’ she asked.

‘His, I suppose.’

‘You suppose?’

‘Well, it’s not his usual car. His usual car is green, a bit like your eyes.’

She almost smiled. ‘And what’s happened to Benjy?’ The door was all the way open now.

‘He’s not very well.’

‘Who is he? What’s his last name?’

‘I don’t know his last name.’

‘Do you work with him?’

‘No.’ I paused while I had a think. ‘I don’t know where he works. But he must have a job because he always has money.’ Then I corrected myself. ‘Always had money, I mean.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you saying he’s dead?’