The house had a series of internal courts or rooms without roofs – the atrium of Roman architecture, modified for the Caribbean – and we had lunch in one of these. Over the crawfish I remembered the man from the dusty cornfield and said, ‘I met someone who sends you his regards – a Mr McKittrick.’

Mrs Salton seemed confused. ‘McKittrick?’

‘Tall, well-built.’

Her brow cleared. ‘Oh, Doctor McKittrick.’

I sampled the nutty-flavoured white flesh of the crawfish. ‘He didn’t look like a doctor to me. When I saw him he was planting corn.’

Mrs Salton smiled. ‘Dr McKittrick has unorthodox ideas of what constitutes medical practice.’

‘Very unorthodox,’ said Stern. ‘He’s a troublemaker.’

‘I haven’t seen Jake McKittrick for nearly two years,’ said Mrs Salton.

‘He said he was sorry to hear of what happened to your husband.’

‘Sorry?’ said Stern. ‘I’d have thought he’d be cheering.’

‘Just because he and David had a quarrel doesn’t mean …’ She stopped, then said, ‘I must drop him a line.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ said Stern. ‘The elections are coming up. As your lawyer I advise you to put nothing in writing to Jacob McKittrick. It could be misinterpreted – no matter what you write.’

I waited for Mrs Salton to reply but she said nothing, apparently content to drop the issue. I added McKittrick’s name to the list on my mental file and dropped another stone into the conversational pool. ‘A man called Jackson gave me some interesting information on local affairs. You may know him, Mrs Salton. An American on the staff of the Chronicle.’

‘On the staff? He’s the editor.’

Jackson may have been miles away on the other side of the island, but he was still capable of pulling surprises.

‘He told me you own the Chronicle.’

‘I suppose I do, now that David is dead.’

‘Don Jackson’s a sound man,’ pronounced Stern. ‘A very good editor.’

And a very good backstabber, I thought. It was not news to me that a newspaperman’s personal politics need have no relationship to the political views of the paper for which he works – it’s probably why journalists have a reputation for cynicism – but Jackson’s naked hostility towards Salton and his wife seemed to be different and based on something other than politics. I sensed that if Western and Continental torpedoed Mrs Salton’s claim, then Jackson would be very pleased. He was a dog in the manger and there must be a reason.

Stern glanced at his watch. ‘I have to be getting back.’

I suddenly changed my mind about investigating Salton Estates that afternoon. I wanted a chance to talk to Mrs Salton without Stern in the way – he was a repressive influence. ‘I’d like to talk to Haslam while I’m here,’ I said. ‘If I get it all wrapped up it will save Mr Ogilvie a journey.’