Pratchett grasped at a salt shaker between two knuckles as Delgado spoke.

‘You told him you’d look into it?’

‘We drove out to her apartment.’

‘After the club closed?’

‘Around 11:30…’

‘Anybody else there?’

‘I didn’t see anyone’

‘You both found the body, at the bottom of the stairs?’

‘I didn’t find a body. The police found the body.‘

‘Rigor mortis?’

‘The police find bodies.’

A burst of smoke wafted up from the griddle with a hiss.

‘The green dress?’

‘Every night on stage a new dress…’

Delgado swiveled, stood up, and walked towards the door. Pratchett followed, head inside his hood.

‘This ain’t right, Harry’ Delgado said, pushing out into the night.

‘Nothing about this is right‘ I shouted after them. ‘It’s gonna be a long winter.‘

Two slices of ‘all-niter’ French toast, soaking under a scoop of butter, sat in front of me.

My Rum And Coke was all ice.