I’m not getting to him.“I know a lot of people, which is always good in this kind of business.”He lifted his head. “Really, and who might they...be?”I ran off a few names of rich people I had met at parties, not really knowing them. Then I had a brilliant idea. “I also know Marie Larcon-Morris.”How I remembered her last name I had no idea. I had only seen it once on a piece of stationary on the way to her bed room, but it had stuck.Now I had his full attention. “How do you know her?”Shit, time. He’s 16 now and is a ringer for his dad. Is it me, or are kids maturing much more quickly these days? I must be getting old. Even policemen look far too young. Paul and I didn’t attend the wake. I couldn’t bear seeing anymore of Allan’s mousy, stupid little wife or hear her irritating Home Counties English accent. More to the point, I couldn’t accept the ghost of Allan in the shape of Jamie, his son.Paul has taken Allan’s death far harder than I have. From the beginning I was aware that. More

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