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Poe ignored the jibe and studied Stahl. The man was clearly an alcoholic, had been for some time judging by the broken capillaries on his nose and the red splotches on his face. And given how yellow his skin was, and how much he was scratching, he obviously had liver damage.
Stahl tried and failed to light his cigarette – his hands were trembling too much. Ordinarily Poe would have assumed it was nerves, but in this case he put it down to sustained alcohol abuse.
‘Need help?’ Poe said, reaching down to steady the hand holding the cheap lighter.
‘Thanks,’ Stahl grunted after he’d taken a long drag. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
Poe took his phone out and sent a text to Bradshaw. As soon as he got her reply, he called her. She answered on the first ring.
‘Ready?’ he said.
‘I am, Poe.’
He held out the phone so it was close to Stahl’s head. ‘Please can you say, “I’m on an unregistered phone and where I am now there is no CCTV,” Mr Stahl?’ Poe said.
‘Er … why?’
Poe stared at him.
‘Fine,’ Stahl said. ‘I’m on an unregistered phone and where I am now there is no CCTV. Happy?’
‘You get that, Tilly?’ Poe said.
‘I did.’
‘Is it enough?’
‘Give me a few minutes. Don’t accept any food from him until I’ve got back to you.’
Poe watched a cockroach scuttling towards a discarded bit of pizza crust.
‘What did she say?’ Flynn asked.
‘Don’t let him feed us.’
‘Aw,’ she said.
