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‘Of course not, you little tit.’
Stahl slumped back into his armchair.
‘But,’ Poe continued, ‘if you sober up, you’re bound to pick up stuff your old colleagues would pay good money for. And as long as it doesn’t compromise case integrity, we may even slip you the occasional nugget of information. While you remain useful, that is.’
‘It’s the best offer you’re going to get all year, Mr Stahl,’ Flynn said. ‘A chance to be relevant again. Maybe give your liver a bit of a rest.’
‘OK,’ he said.
‘OK?’
‘I’ll help you with whatever you need. And any insight into the investigation will be gratefully received.’
He offered them his hand. Against his better judgement, Poe shook it. It was like touching raw meat. Flynn pretended she hadn’t noticed.
‘Let’s go,’ she said. ‘We’ll put you up in the same hotel we’re in.I’ll even stump up for some new clothes if you have nothing clean to take with you.’
‘Thank you,’ he smiled. His teeth were chipped and discoloured, like a bag of broken Smarties.
‘Is there a dog or a cat we need to think about?’ Poe said.
Stahl took another swig of vodka. Drained a third of the bottle. ‘The cat died weeks ago,’ he said. ‘In fact, can you give me a hand? I think it’s still in the kitchen somewhere.’
‘Yeah,’ Poe muttered, ‘you’re going to be a great help.’
