When David got up and was led to the door by two armed men, Mr. Hook continued speaking after him: “And if you are interested in a small job, you can come to my office at any time. We'll discuss everything.”

David wasn't sure if it was an offer for a job or an offer for a blowjob.

Back in the cell, David just stared out of the window. He had to talk to James. The whole thing hadn't been set up for murder. David felt badly to be involved in three murders, even if it would have been self-defence if in doubt. In any case, dismembering the corpses was no longer self-defence.

When Tucker came back from work and both went to dinner, David thanked him for testifying to Hook.

"Sure," his cellmate nodded as they were on their way to the canteen. "You're nice. I like you. And I saw how pale you came back. I'm so sorry. I know you had little choice. Most of the time nobody has it here.”

David just nodded.

“Maybe it's not bad that he's dead. Nobody liked him anyway.”

"Someone else will surely climb his empty throne after that," David muttered when they saw the crowds in the canteen.

"Maybe," Tucker said just as quietly, looking around furtively. "Hopefully not Candy."

"Why isn't the director doing anything?" David asked as they queued up to eat. “He knew pretty well about all of the things that are going on here. Surely he'll know about Candy too.”

“Certainly. But he's ... well ... he doesn't really care. He certainly only interrogated us because the police wanted him to do that.”

David stared at his spaghetti Bolognese unhappily.

"You seem to have a very strong sense of justice," Tucker whispered in his ear. A little too close and a little too wet, but David didn't flinch. “But I tell you: Mr. Hook is not an easy man to deal with. He'll make your life a living hell if you resist him. So just accept it.”

“What’s he supposed to do? Put me in block C?” David smiled. It was as if he was just waiting to end up in block C. Maybe it was even a good idea. At least over there the bad guys seem to be partying regularly. And David wanted to play along.

"That or rat on you as a spy to everyone," whispered Tucker, sitting moodily on the bench across from David. “You don't have to be one. He just tells everyone. Then they'll lynch you all by themselves.”

David played with his plastic fork. "Spy? Do they really exist?”

Tucker shrugged. He stared at his food for a few moments. Finally, he looked up again and acted more loosely than he seemed to be. "Sure. Half a year or so ago we even had a cop here. Undercover."

David's eyes widened. "For real?"

“Yes, they actually only caught him because his statements contradicted each other at some point. Didn't get along with that. Something has happened. He went to Mr. Hook and then it was over.”

"What happened to him?"

“Dead, I think. But maybe they got him out.”

Tucker started eating as if he didn't want to talk about it anymore. But David couldn't let go of the topic so quickly.

“Then how do you know he was a real undercover cop? Maybe Mr. Hook just made it up again.”

His cellmate sighed with the spaghetti between his teeth. He spoke with his mouth full. “Nobody knew that exactly, but apparently the mafia is supposed to have their fingers in the game here. Money laundering and such. Someone also claims that drugs are made here. That's why there are so many around. So it would make sense that you send someone to look behind the scenes.“

David frowned. “Money laundering and drugs? It doesn't sound very easy to get involved into that as an inmate. Did he have relationships?”

“Jesus, David, I don't know. The cop was probably supposed get involved with the mafia and then do some crooked business with them to collect enough evidence. Just went wrong. But I can't tell you much more.”

"I see," David finally nodded and looked at his food again. He let the information melt on his tongue for a while before eating too.

After dinner, David struggled to take a shower. As soon as he thought about entering the shower again, the pictures from the previous evening came back. How three men lay dead in the corner. Perhaps it would have been better if he had given the whole thing some more time. But he wanted to speak to James. Talk to him about the crime. He hoped it would make the burden more bearable. So after quarter past eight he was driven back to the showers.

Of course, nobody stood in front of it.

Of course it smelled of mango.

Of course the water rushed from one shower. But the black bathrobe was not there. Instead, a red one hung there.

David barely dared to look in the shower room anyway. James stood naked in the first shower. His whole back was blue and purple. His right leg was bandaged and covered with a plastic bag.

"Hey," David said cautiously, stopping at the locker room still fully dressed. James slowly turned and smiled at him as best as he could. His lip was swollen and cracked. His eye black where the big guy’s fist hit him.

"Hey," he breathed, turning the water off. "You're late today."

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to take a shower today," David admitted, glancing around and finally putting his change of clothes aside. "After what happened yesterday."

"I understand," James murmured, padding across the wet floor to David. With his wet fingers he started to untie David's pants. “But you can help me wash my back. There is still a lot of iodine from the wounds and I want you to wash it off. See it as part of your reparation.”

David got undressed like a doll and went under the shower with James. He carefully ran the soap over James’ back, who flinched sometimes. There were blue and green spots everywhere. He saw cuts here and there. There were a lot of scars - old scars - underneath.

"Thank you," David said finally, very quietly, as he cleaned James's back from the iodine. "That you took care of everything."

"Mmm," James growled. He had closed his eyes and was obviously enjoying the touch.

“I was with Mr. Hook today. He had asked me a few questions, but I'm probably off the hook.”

"Very good…"

David put the soap away and massaged the foam into James’ skin. "How did you manage to dismember those three men and then throw them into a container?"

James didn't answer at first, he just let himself be rubbed on. When David stopped massaging him, however, he opened his eyes and turned to face him. "I had help."

"That's what I thought."

"Then why are you asking?" James asked, trying to smile. His demolished face twitched in pain. A soaped hand slid carefully over David's slightly hairy chest.

His heart was pounding. But David struggled through. "Are you involved with Shawn Candy?"

James’ blue eyes grew wide for a brief moment. But after a few seconds he caught up again. The mood was suddenly tense. "Don't mention his name in my presence."

David took the answer as a no. "So you know him?"

"Everyone knows him," James sighed, playing with the little hairs on David's chest. "And yet nobody knows him."

David carefully ran his hands over James’ narrow hips. His skin was softer than he would have expected from a man. "What does this mean? You're in block C. Did you ever meet him?”

"David," James began to sigh again and patiently closed his eyes. “Things are a little different in block C compared to here. I don't want to talk about him.”

"But he's on everyone's lips and if you make a deed look like it's from him, I feel like you're also dealing with him," David replied, though he was sure he was playing with James' patience.

Indeed, his otherwise warm blue eyes grew cold as ice. "If you don't want to have anything to do with me or Candy, please take your shower again in the morning."

David sensed that he should have accepted the advice. But the guilty conscience of simply rejecting James even though he had helped him was stronger. "No, that's not what I wanted to say."

"Then just don't say anything," whispered James, leaning against David. He carefully reached for his face and pulled it down towards him. He kissed David's lips more sensually and gently than ever. The kiss lasted a few minutes and finally got a little more intense. But when David tasted blood, James pulled away. With a painful look, he touched his bleeding lip. "Fuck," he swore, eyes narrowing.

"Did it have to be sewn?"

James nodded and sighed.

"Didn't anyone wonder why you were wounded?"

"I sewed it myself," James said, leaning again against David's bare body. The warm water pattered over them both.

David caught his breath again. "You sewed it yourself ...?"

"Mmm," he murmured, hugging David's torso. For a few seconds it looked like he just wanted to cuddle, but before David could put his arms around James, he loosened up again. “If you're afraid of Candy, don't show it. And above all, don't talk about him. That just catches unnecessary attention. And most importantly: don't tell anyone that you'll meet me here.”

"I wasn't going to," David muttered, watching James wash the rest of the soap off.

"Good," he nodded, starting to throw himself in his red bathrobe. The wine red looked good on him. "Then see you tomorrow."

With that he left. And David wasn't sure whether the relationship had tightened or loosened.

David concluded that James probably knew Candy better than anyone, but didn't want to talk about it. Did the mafia have anything to do with Candy? So the rat tail would become longer?

Maybe it was time to find out more about block C.