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Miles made a note. ‘You’ll have everything else you need by the end of the day,’ which caused Billy to spill his coffee. ‘But how long would it take you to produce a convincing copy?’

‘Two weeks, three at the most,’ said Billy, ‘unless you also want a convincing signature, in which case it will take considerably longer.’

‘A signature won’t be necessary,’ said Miles, ‘but I will need to have the drawing before I’m released on the twenty-third.’

Billy hesitated. ‘As long as you can guarantee this isn’t going to land me with an even longer sentence, because I don’t want to do anything that will harm my chances of getting parole.’

‘If your copy is good enough, Billy, the only thing you’ll end up getting is a grand in your bank account.’

Billy smiled for the first time. He drained his coffee, rose from his place and shook hands with Mr Faulkner – the onlyway of closing a deal in prison. He grabbed another biscuit and left the library with the smile still on his face.

‘I’ll need to see PO Simpson,’ said Miles.

‘I’m on my way,’ said Tulip, who quickly left the library.

Miles leant back and closed his eyes once again as he thought about part two of his plan.

•••

Alice looked at the man seated on the other side of the table, and wondered how they could have possibly ended up in Sicily together. Inspector Ross Hogan had come into her life because she taught his daughter, Jojo, and she would never have thought it possible she could fall in love with a man who was so unreliable, yet so irresistible.

He was known in the force to be a maverick, eccentric and dangerous. But at the same time brave beyond common sense, loyal to a fault when it came to his friends, and ruthless when it came to his enemies. William Warwick was his closest friend and Miles Faulkner his sworn enemy. On both counts the feeling was mutual.

Alice looked across at Jojo, who was drawing a pepper pot on her paper napkin.

‘What’s wrong with the drawing pad I bought for you last month?’ Ross asked his daughter, as he dabbed some honey on his croissants.

‘Filled up every page,’ said Jojo, as she continued to draw an outline of the sugar bowl.

‘Both sides?’ enquired Alice.

‘Yes, miss.’

‘I do wish you’d call me Alice. After all, we are on holiday.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Jojo, not looking up.

‘Why not?’ asked her father, gently probing.

‘When I get back to school, I don’t want my friends to know I’ve been on holiday with one of our teachers.’

‘Why not?’ repeated Ross. ‘After all, we’ve been living together for over a year.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ said Jojo. ‘It’s so embarrassing!’

Alice and Ross both laughed as Jojo turned the menu over and began to draw a teapot, but wasn’t pleased with the result, so tore it in half.

‘Can I go back to my room and get my pencil sharpener?’

‘Of course,’ said Ross, as he selected another croissant.

Jojo got up and quickly left the dining room.

A waitress placed a fresh basket of warm croissants on the table before asking in pidgin English if they needed anything else.

‘Do you have any paper?’ asked Alice.

‘Paper?’ said the waitress, pointing to her copy of yesterday’sGuardian.