At his elbow a bearded man knocked over Kaufman’s coffee.

‘Shit!’ he said.

Kaufman shifted on his stool to avoid the dribble of coffee running off the counter.

‘Shit,’ the man said again.

No harm done,’ said Kaufman.

He looked at the man with a slightly disdainful expres-sion on his face. The clumsy bastard was attempting to soak up the coffee with a napkin, which was turning to mush as he did so.

Kaufman found himself wondering if this oaf, with his florid cheeks and his uncultivated beard, was capable of murder. Was there any sign on that over-fed face, any clue in the shape of his head or the turn of his small eyes that gave his true nature away?

The man spoke.

‘Wannanother?’

Kaufman shook his head.

‘Coffee. Regular. Dark,’ the oaf said to the girl behind the counter. She looked up from cleaning the grill of cold fat.

‘Huh?’

‘Coffee. You deaf?’

The man grinned at Kaufman.

‘Deaf,’ he said.

Kaufman noticed he had three teeth missing from his lower jaw.

‘Looks bad, huh?’ he said.

What did he mean? The coffee? The absence of his teeth?

‘Three people like that. Carved up.’ Kaufman nodded.

‘Makes you think,’ he said. ‘Sure.’

‘I mean, it’s a cover-up isn’t it? They know who did it.’

This conversation’s ridiculous, thought Kaufman. He took off his spectacles and pocketed them: the bearded face was no longer in focus. That was some improvement at least.

‘Bastards,’ he said. ‘Fucking bastards, all of them. I’ll lay you anything it’s a cover-up.’