London, April 2007
He opened the new bag of coffee beans and inhaled, relishing the toasted aroma that his favourite brand of arabica gave off. Tipping the contents into the grinder’s basket, he enjoyed the satisfying clatter of the oily rubble, awaiting the revolution of the burrs that would allow them to perform the alchemy that hot water and their grinds could achieve.
This was a ritual for DCI Jack Hawksworth. Ever since his last trip to Australia to see his sister and her family, now living in Melbourne, coffee had taken on a new dimension for him. No longer did he swallow the muddy slurry from vending machines for something warming; now well-brewed caffeine had become a passion. Having tasted the delicious version of a piccolo in the Italian quarter of Melbourne – where unshaven men stood behind hissing, steaming machines twisting buttons and pressing levers that ultimately delivered a shot like liquid liquorice, topped by a layer of caramel-coloured crema – he now prided himself on attaining a similar magic at home…
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