A schedule is a schedule is a schedule. A laminated schedule even more so. Again, Ron raises no objection to this point. In fact, Ron is unusually quiet all round.
‘Do you smell of cannabis, Ron?’ asks Ibrahim.
‘I might do,’ concedes Ron.
‘I’m of half a mind to declare this meeting unofficial, you know? Unless I’m given a good reason.’
‘Well within your rights, old son,’ says Ron. ‘You give ’em hell.’
‘Thanks, Ron, I will,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Why do you smell of cannabis all the time now?’
‘Pauline,’ says Ron.
‘Oh, I see,’ says Ibrahim. ‘That covers it.’
‘It’s a lot stronger than I’m used to,’ says Ron. ‘I keep falling asleep on her bathroom floor.’
Ibrahim presses the buzzer to Joyce’s building, and the friends are let in.
‘Lift or stairs?’ asks Ibrahim.
‘Lift? Why not?’ says Ron. Ibrahim has noticed that he is trying to hide a limp. Still not using his stick.
They exit the lift, knock on the first door on the right, and Joyce lets them in. She gives them both a hug in turn.
‘Ooh, Ron, are you wearing perfume?’ asks Joyce. ‘It reminds me of something Joanna used to wear.’
Ron grunts, and takes off his coat. Alan has approached him with interest, and starts to lick his hand with professional thoroughness. Ibrahim spots Elizabeth seated in the living room.
‘Now, forgive me, but I must speak –’
‘Must you?’ asks Elizabeth.
‘I must. Good morning, Elizabeth. And a very early morning, if I might be allowed the observation.’
‘And to you,’ replies Elizabeth, motioning for him to continue.
‘We are the Thursday Murder Club, that is not news to anybody. We meet at eleven a.m. each Thursday in the Jigsaw Room. Let me take those three data points one by one –’
‘Cup of tea?’ asks Joyce.
‘Thank you, Joyce, yes,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Point one, we meet on Thursdays. On this point I am satisfied, it is indeed Thursday, we need discuss this no further –’
‘Ron, you absolutely reek of very high-grade skunk,’ says Elizabeth.
‘It stays in the hair,’ says Ron.
‘Point two, we meet at eleven a.m., and here, you see, our paths diverge, as it is eight a.m. Is there a reason, is there an explanation? None has been forthcoming.’
‘How is Pauline?’ calls Joyce from the kitchen as she fills the kettle.
Ron grunts a non-committal reply.
‘And from there onto point three,’ continues Ibrahim. ‘We meet in the Jigsaw Room, and, without putting the point too bluntly, I see no jigsaws.’
‘Skunk is very good for arthritis,’ says Elizabeth.
‘I don’t have arthritis,’ says Ron.
‘And I’ve never seen the classified files on the assassination of JFK,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Pull the other one, Ron, it’s got bells on.’
‘So before we go any further,’ continues Ibrahim, ‘I want to know if there is a good reason – and my definition of “good” will be strict – as to why we are meeting here and now. Because it plays havoc with my spreadsheet.’
Alan lollops into the room from the hallway, tail wagging, and makes an immediate beeline for Ibrahim. He starts tugging at Ibrahim’s sleeve.