Chapter 25Poullet leads me to his study and we sit facing each other on ancient, over-stuffed armchairs, the arms of which are so wide and flat, we have no need for a table to rest our brandy glasses.
“Ah, brandy, the nectar of the Gods,” he says.
“My stomach feels full of acid, I'm driving, and I've already had some wine,” I protest. “Do you really think I should drink this?”
“Who is the doctor here, you or me? Sip it, don't gulp it down. It's remedial. I often drive after one or two glasses of brandy. It's never done me any harm.”
I think about the state of his car and smile. Every part of it is bashed. He can't park at the best of times and here he is, admitting to a cop, that he frequently drives after drinking. Being with my trusted friend, who is so kind to me, makes me emotional
