The Glass Room (Vera Stanhope 5)

was romantic, a dreamer. Like me? Joe thought, and then: For God’s sake, man, you’ve got sex on the brain.
    ‘Shall we sit down?’ Joe moved further into the flat and shut the door behind him. Still Lenny showed no sign of moving or taking off his coat.
    ‘Aye, all right.’ Lenny seemed to have lost his puppy-like energy and enthusiasm. ‘It’s cold in there, though. I’ve only just turned the heating on.’
    ‘I could murder a cup of tea. That’ll soon warm us through.’
    The living room was cold. Lenny switched on the light and pulled the curtains shut. The place was tidy enough, but there was dust on the mantelpiece and biscuit crumbs on the carpet. Lenny saw Joe looking at the muck on the floor. ‘Sorry.’ For a moment he was himself again, apologetic and eager to please. ‘I haven’t done the hoovering this week.’ Still wearing his coat, he went through to the kitchen and filled the kettle.
    Joe remained standing. He considered what it must be like to live alone; he’d gone straight from his mam and dad’s place to setting up home with Sal. Under the window there was a table, spread with a few sheets of printed paper and a glossy image of a house surrounded by bare trees. The angle was unfamiliar and it took the arty writing of the title – Short Cuts from the Writers’ House – to make him recognize it. He turned and saw Lenny watching him from the kitchen door.
    ‘That’s the page proofs,’ he said. ‘You get them from the publisher and check for mistakes. The picture will be on the cover.’
    ‘You’ll be at the launch party then?’
    ‘I will.’ Lenny hesitated. The kettle boiled and clicked off, but he took no notice. ‘I wondered if I’d ask Helen. My ex. She never thought I’d make it, and here I am with my name on a book. But would she think I was showing off – putting her down, like. I told you so. You were wrong all along. I wouldn’t want it to be like that.’
    ‘I think she’d like you to ask her,’ Joe said. ‘She’d be proud. Really.’
    ‘Maybe I’ll risk it then,’ Lenny said. ‘Maybe I will.’ And he disappeared to make the tea.
    Later, a mug on his knee, Joe asked, ‘What have you been up to lately?’ Hearing his voice, he almost winced. It was patronizing and with that forced jollity that bachelor uncles and priests put on when they are talking to children.
    Lenny was immediately suspicious. ‘What am I supposed to have done?’
    ‘Nothing!’ But surely the man deserved an explanation. ‘Someone killed Miranda’s cat and laid it out in the Writers’ House chapel. A sick joke maybe, and nothing to do with the murder, but we’re asking everyone what they were doing that afternoon. And at the time someone broke into Nina Backworth’s flat. You do understand. It might help us track down the killer.’
    There was that frown again. ‘I wouldn’t do something like that. And I couldn’t even get to the Writers’ House. I don’t have a car.’
    ‘An officer came to see you before, to ask you where you were that day. You told her you couldn’t remember.’
    ‘That young lass,’ Lenny said. ‘Snotty cow. She wouldn’t even sit down. Worried maybe that she’d catch something.’
    ‘Where were you, Lenny?’ Joe tried to keep his voice light. He liked the big man. ‘You don’t have such a hectic social life that you really don’t remember.’
    Lenny paused and for a moment Joe thought he was preparing an answer. But at the last minute the man shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘When you’re home all the time like me, one day seems just like another.’ He stood up. ‘But I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t upset Nina or Alex. They’re good people.’
    Joe realized that Lenny hadn’t answered the question. Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to lie. But he knew fine well where he was, those days of the bizarre happenings. He just wasn’t saying.
    Joe found a card in his pocket. ‘This is my mobile number. Give me a ring if anything comes back to you.’ He could tell that forcing the issue now would just make Lenny more stubborn. Lenny left the card on the table where Joe had put it, but he nodded.
    Outside, Joe thought the day was turning into a disaster. One failure after another. He’d wanted to bring Vera good news to justify her faith in him. At the car something made him turn back to look at the flats. He saw Lenny, holding the curtains a little apart, looking down at him.
    He wants to tell me, Joe thought, but