‘Do you think I could have a cup of coffee please?’
She takes up position in a corner of the room as if she’s on sentry duty but says nothing. I thought they only behaved like that in TV dramas. Moments later Munroe returns, tossing a file onto the table between us.
‘Before you start, could I please have a cup of coffee and some biscuits; I haven’t eaten yet this evening.’
Munroe nods at the WPC who obediently leaves the room. He obviously doesn’t demean himself by talking to underlings more than necessary.
I lean back on my chair, pulling my coat closer around me and stare blank-faced at Munroe as he makes a show of shuffling through the file of papers. His fingers are long, the joints slightly swollen preventing them straightening out properly; they put me in mind of a hawk’s talons.
