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eyes flicking between the bustle of people and the bottle of sherry being handed around.
    As he went in through the wooden doors, he had to step to one side to avoid a little girl running through the crowd giggling, her blonde hair in curls, all smiles as she sang to herself.
    ‘Cute,’ Donia said.
    ‘That’s the worst part, the children,’ Charlie replied. ‘They laugh and play like most kids, but their parents will mess it all up for them eventually. Drugs, booze, violence.’
    ‘Booze,’ she said, and she smiled. ‘Bad stuff.’
    ‘What?’
    She blushed, embarrassed now.
    ‘What do you mean?’ he said.
    Donia pointed to his mouth. ‘The mints, well, they don’t work as well as you think.’
    Charlie smiled at her bluntness. ‘It’s better than nothing,’ he said, and then popped another mint into his mouth. He pulled the first blue file out of his bag and shouted out the name. A tall man with a stoop came towards him. A shoplifter. No profession for a small town, where everyone knows you.
    Charlie pointed towards an interview room at one side of the waiting area, and as they all went inside, his client said, ‘I’m pleading not guilty.’
    This was the part Charlie was most bored with, pretending like he cared. He’d heard mostly crap over the years. The innocents were pretty rare. ‘Go on then, Shaun, let’s play the game. If you go not guilty, the court will want to know what bullshit excuse you’ve got this time.’
    ‘That’s your job, to come up with the defence.’
    Charlie closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he saw that Shaun was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.
    ‘No, it isn’t,’ Charlie said. ‘You come up with the lies. I just repeat them and pretend I believe them.’ When Shaun scowled, Charlie added, ‘You’re just not very good at your job, as a shoplifter.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Shaun, every video I’ve watched of you shoplifting, you look around so much that even little old ladies know what you’re doing. Here’s a tip; if the cameras watch you from the minute you walk in, you’re going to get caught.’
    ‘I didn’t think your job was telling me how to be a better crook.’
    ‘Perhaps I’m just telling you to pick a different career, because you’re not good at the one you’ve chosen.’
    ‘Or go to a different town?’
    Charlie shook his head and laughed. ‘If you think that will help.’
    Shaun shrugged and then said, ‘I saw you Friday night.’
    ‘Oh yes?’
    ‘In the Gloves. You were fucking wasted.’
    That wasn’t news, but he didn’t want to hear it. ‘Let me go speak to the prosecutor,’ Charlie said, and left the room, Donia behind him.
    As they walked into the courtroom, the prosecutor was in his usual place, at the front desk, next to a large pile of files. Tall and greying, he was the slow and steady type, who had learned quicker than Charlie that calm and precise got further than bluster and adrenaline. He was flicking through his papers, just a refresher. Charlie knew that he’d already been through them once, but it beat staring at the wall, waiting for the court to start.
    ‘I’ve got Shaun Prescott,’ Charlie said, as he leaned over him.
    He turned round and looked surprised. ‘Amelia not here? Or is she getting ready for the cameras?’
    ‘Cameras? You’ve lost me.’
    ‘The murder,’ he said.
    ‘I’ve heard about it.’
    ‘Between me and you, I was speaking to the court reporter before. He got a text from someone at the
Express
. The rumour is that the victim is Billy Privett.’
    That was a surprise. ‘Billy Privett? You’re joking, right?’
    ‘That’s what I was told,’ the prosecutor said. He glanced up at Donia, and then leaned into Charlie so that he could whisper. ‘Tied up and face sliced off, so I heard, with his features posted to the local paper. They’ve got themselves really excited, because the scoop will keep the paper afloat for another year.’ Then he smiled.