Nobody in Cambridge needs to be told what books are for, of course, and last night I was in Heffers there for the most extraordinary book event I’ve ever been at. No lines of wonky chairs. No readings! Just loads of people filling every level and space in the shop. They had one thing in common (apart from the usual literary interest in wine): they were all crime writers or crime readers, or both. It was so friendly (maybe I’ve been in London too long) that I even bought a novel in French, just because the author and his wife were so nice. I’m thrilled to have seen piles of The Most Intimate Place diminish quite nicely from a table on the ground floor there. The staff can always reorder if they’ve sold out by the time you get there …