“I told yer,” ’Orrie said, his wandering eye veering wildly, the other fixed on Monk. “I took ’im out ter the boat. Summink arter eleven, it were. ’E tol’ me ter come back fer ’im, but I were ’eld up, an’ I were late. When I got there, bit before one, ’e were gorn. I din’t see nobody else, an’ I dunno ’oo killed ’im.”

“What did he go out to the boat for?” Monk asked patiently. He did not know why he was asking all this. It probably made no difference. He was doing it to convince himself that he was trying to find the truth and to prove who had killed Parfitt.

‘Orrie was staring at him incredulously, leaning a little against a pile of kegs. “ ’Ow do I know? Yer think I asked ’im?”

“Who else did you tell?” Monk persisted.

’Orrie looked indignant. “Nob’dy! Yer sayin’ as I set ’im up?”

“Did you?” It was a possibility, a fight over the spoils?

“Course I didn’t. Why’d I do a thing like that?” ’Orrie protested.

“For money,” Monk replied. “Or because you were more scared of whoever paid you than you were of Mickey Parfitt.”

’Orrie drew in his breath to argue, then let it out again, clearly having thought better of it. He looked sideways at Monk, for once both his eyes more or less in the same direction. “I din’t tell no one, but Mickey went out there often, like. There were things that needed seein’ ter, an’ ’e din’t trust no one else ter do it right.”

“He didn’t trust you?” Monk pressed, pretending surprise.

’Orrie’s face tightened, sensible to the insult. It was clear from his furrowed expression that he was now taking a great deal more care before he answered. “Mebbe someb’dy were watchin’?” he suggested. “ ’E were clever, were Mickey, but ’e got enemies. King o’ that bit o’ the river, ’e were.”

“Who else did you see when you went back for him?” Monk asked.

This time ’Orrie weighed his answer for several moments. Monk waited with interest, studying ’Orrie’s extraordinary face. Sometimes the lie a man chose could tell you more about him than the truth.

“There’s always people on the water,” ’Orrie started cautiously.

Monk smiled. “Of course. If there weren’t, there’d be no business.”

“Right.” ’Orrie nodded slowly, still apparently watching Monk. “People wi’ money,” he added.

“So, what did Mickey Parfitt sell to them?” Monk asked him.

’Orrie looked totally blank, as if he had not understood.

“ ’Orrible, what did Mickey Parfitt sell to these men with money?” Monk repeated carefully. “He made a very good living, or he couldn’t have afforded a boat at all, never mind one with fittings like those in his boat.”

“I dunno,” ’Orrie said helplessly. “Yer suppose ’e told the likes o’ me?”

“No, ’Orrie, I suppose you had enough sense to see for yourself!”