Bradshaw blew a raspberry. ‘Oh,pur-lease,’ she said. ‘Everyone knows it was you. No one knows why you did it, but you definitely did.’ She moved her finger over the laptop’s trackpad. Brought up a new page. ‘He moved from job to job for a while, Poe. Private security in the Middle East, in Africa—’
‘And now the UK,’ Poe cut in.
Bradshaw frowned. ‘This is odd,’ she said. ‘He started working for Mr Arreghini twenty-two months ago.’
‘Why’s that odd, Tilly? That’s what Archie said when I spoke to him.’
‘No, it’s what he didbeforethat’s odd, Poe.’
Poe glanced at Towler. A smile was dancing across his lips. As if he was in on the joke and you weren’t. ‘And what did he do before, Tilly?’
‘That’s just it. I don’t know. He either dropped off the grid and had no employment whatsoever or . . .’ She bit her lip, looked at Towler and frowned. She then closed her laptop.
‘Or what, Tilly?’
‘Do you want a slice of mango, Poe?’ Bradshaw passed him her fruit bowl. ‘It’s fresh and has a lot of fibre. It’ll help you move your bowels.’
Towler sniggered.
‘Tilly, he either dropped off the grid or what?’ Poe said, ignoring the tall idiot.
‘Eat the mango, Poe.’
‘What did Towler do before he worked for Mr Arreghini, Tilly?’
‘Stop being such a fusspot, Poe,’ she replied. ‘I told you, I don’t know.’
Poe let it go. Maybe it was something Bradshaw didn’t want to say in front of Towler. Maybe it was something else. He’d find out later. He and Bradshaw didn’t have secrets.
‘You asked what I was doing here,’ Towler said.
‘I did.’
‘Mr Arreghini asked me to keep an eye on the investigation, and as you two seem to be the only ones with fresh ideas, it seemed a logical place to start.’
‘We can’t share anything,’ Poe said.
‘Don’t need you to,’ Towler said. ‘The bookworm—’
‘She’s called Miss Bradshaw.’
‘But you can call me Tilly.’
‘Thebookwormfigured out that the sniper’s choosing his location based on throwing a pair of twenty-sided dice and you came here as it’s where the dorks whousetwenty-sided dice hang out. I take it you’re after their mailing lists?’
‘We are,’ Bradshaw said.
‘Tilly . . .’ Poe warned.
Bradshaw waved him off. ‘I think we should trust Mr Towler, Poe.’
‘Tilly, we have a track record of not trusting anyone. Why would we trust a crook’s bodyguard?’
‘Because he has an honest face.’
‘OK, what’s going—’
‘Have some mango, Poe.’
