I was in the plumbing aisle at the hardware store when I spotted Pat the policeman. I was a little perplexed; he’d obviously left the police force, because he was wearing the hardware store’s uniform: a green apron over a red polo-shirt. I tried to remember the last time I’d seen Pat. It was four or five months ago—at a coroner’s job. My work-mate George and I had to transfer the body of a heroin user who’d overdosed at his home to the hospital morgue. Our favourite policewoman, Probationary Constable Rebecca, had been teamed with Pat. Now, Pat was listening…