Haslam peered into the jug. ‘Room for one more.’ He pulled over a cane chair. ‘Take a seat.’

I took the chair and placed it so that I could see the gate to the estate in the distance across the airstrip. I wanted to know when Hanna arrived. ‘How did the flight to the States go?’ I asked.

‘Not bad. No trouble to speak of.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Philadelphia. Mrs Salton went to see her sister-in-law.’ He handed me a glass.

‘Thanks. Did she say anything about her plans for the plane?’ Haslam shook his head and the lines about his eyes deepened. ‘Maybe you’d better ask her,’ I said.

‘Hell, no! I don’t want to buy trouble.’ He was drinking this time and took a deep slug from his glass.

‘At least you’d know one way or the other,’ I said. ‘You’d be able to make plans.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t want to put ideas into her head. Maybe she hasn’t even thought about it. I’d be a damned fool if I gave her the notion.’

Bette Haslam snorted. ‘No, you don’t want to give Mrs Salton any ideas. Any ideas at all.’ She was tipsy again – not incapably so, but in that alcoholic haze which the heavy drinker is able to maintain indefinitely.

‘Shut up, Bette,’ said Haslam. He said it with a lack of force and a little tiredly, as though it was something he said automatically and without thinking. A routine reprimand. ‘You want anything in particular, Mr Kemp?’

I looked over at the gate. ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘Just taking the air and sitting in the sun.’ I stretched out my legs. ‘Somebody told me that whenever the plane leaves this island, you have to call in at Benning.’

‘That’s right. We get nicked for the departure tax.’

‘Aircrew, too?’

‘Everybody,’ he said firmly. ‘No exceptions.’

‘Sounds like a profitable tax,’ I said. ‘What about coming back? I suppose you fly directly here.’ I didn’t really want to know: I was just making conversation.

‘No. We have to land at Benning for a Customs check.’ He grinned. ‘They get us coming and going.’

‘Even millionaires? What would they be smuggling?’

‘The Saltons wouldn’t be smuggling anything,’ said Haslam. ‘Mr Salton was very hot on that type of thing. Everything was declared if he was bringing anything in, and he paid the duty on the nail. A man in his position, it wouldn’t be worth his while to be caught avoiding Customs duty.’ He tapped himself on the chest. ‘Aircrew are different. You’d be surprised at what aircrew can get away with. And don’t the Customs boys know it: they always give us a real going over.’

‘Looking for what?’