He produced two cans of beer, levered off the caps with a jack-knife and handed me one.
‘Happy days.’
‘Happier nights.’
We drank, sighed as men will, and set the cans on the desk.
‘I don’t reckon he did it. It wasn’t in his line.’
‘That’s what he told me.’ I leaned forward and began to make patterns on the desk with the wet bottom of the can. ‘I want to help him if I can. Anything you might tell me could turn the trick.’
Maxie started to explore his back molars again, changed his mind and poked about inside his ear instead.
‘Not a bad guy. A free-spender. No trouble. Nice girl friend. You seen her?’
I said I had seen her.
He closed one small eye, then opened it again.