‘The bacon’ll burn,’ he said.
‘G
o and see to it then.’ I lunged for the package and he snatched it up, clutching it to his chest. ‘If you’re so worried.’
‘It’s not for prying eyes,’ he said, shaking his head at me maddeningly.
‘Now I definitely have to see it,’ I said.
I ran around the sofa, but he had it behind his back and was crossing the room too swiftly for me. He was going to get away from me and I wouldn’t know if it was … what I thought it was …
I leapt and made a desperate grab. It tore the paper and, even though I ended up falling over myself on to the floor, I had achieved my objective.
I could see exactly what the brown paper covered. It was a lighter brown, sleek and slender, varnished and vicious. It was a cane.
‘Happy now?’ said Dan, ripping off the rest of the bag and swishing his purchase through the air.
I was dumbfounded, a pile of sexually charged fear on the wood laminate.
‘Is that … for me?’ I whispered, once I’d sorted out which limb belonged where.
He put the tip of it beneath my chin and tapped, very gently, but I nearly wet myself.
‘Who else?’ he said. His smile was teasing, with an underlying chill factor that made me shiver.
‘You have to know how to use one of those things,’ I said. ‘The book says so. You have to practise. You can’t just start using them willy-nilly.’
Oh, God. I have no talent for crime. Massive talent for self-incrimination though.
‘And how,’ he said, removing the cane from beneath my chin and tracing the outline of my neck and shoulders with its tip, ‘would you know what the book says?’
I swallowed. ‘I found it,’ I said. ‘I had a look at it.’
He put the cane down on the table.
‘You found it? How? I hid it so well.’
‘Not well enough, detective. Shit, the bacon’s burning. Give me five.’
‘I’ll give you more than five, you little sneak.’
He followed me into the kitchen, saying nothing while I turned off the heat and tipped the bacon out of the pan for it to cool.
‘Pass us the eggs,’ I said warily.
‘Here. Cream?’
‘Please.’
I could tell how tense my shoulders were because beating up the carbonara sauce became quite painful quite soon.
‘You must have known I’d look for it,’ I said, putting down the fork and trying to stretch my cramping muscles.
‘Well, duh,’ he said. He came up behind me and massaged my shoulder blades, ah, blissful. ‘That’s why I put it in that box. Psychology.’
‘You should have used reverse psychology. Put it somewhere dead obvious.’
‘I thought of that, but then I had to reverse the reverse psychology. I’m not sure how many degrees I went through before I chose my final hiding place. At least seven hundred and twenty. Maybe more.’