He laughed and his eyes twinkled again. ‘Good question. You been causing quite a stir on this little old island.’

‘You’re not the first to tell me that.’

‘I guess not. You were with the fuzz this morning. Give you much grief?’

‘I didn’t come here to discuss my affairs with you. What’s this about Salton?’

‘Well, man, that’s like … delicate. What about a bill?’

‘Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m talking about bread, man – dough. One hundred dollars.’ He stopped. ‘Christ, I forget where I am. This British money’ll send me nuts. Forty British quids.’ He flashed me a grin. ‘You do say quids?’

‘It’s usually in the singular,’ I said. ‘But not this time.’ I began to get up. ‘I receive information but I don’t pay cash for it – especially not to someone I don’t know.’

He leaned forward and put a meaty hand on my shoulder. ‘Fold the gams, man.’ I assumed he meant I was to sit back down, so I did. ‘Make social. You can call me Joe.’

The waiter put a glass in front of me. He didn’t wait to be paid but went without asking. Joe said, ‘They’re converting into dollars here next year. Will I be glad.’

I sipped from the glass and said, ‘Salton.’

He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Pesky as that blue-ass fly.’ Suddenly he became brisk. ‘Okay, Mr Kemp, I’ll give you a freebie just because I like you. You go see Leotta Tomsson, ask her what she knew about David Salton. Ask her who pays the rent on that silk-lined pad.’

‘Leotta Tomsson. What address?’

‘For one bill, man?’

I laughed. ‘Nothing doing.’

‘A hard-nosed Britisher is worse than any damn Yankee,’ he complained, but he didn’t seem too put out. ‘Maybe I’ll tell you. Let’s talk a while first.’

‘What about?’

‘About what you think you’re doing here.’

‘Investigating an insurance case,’ I said. ‘I’ve just about finished.’

‘True?’

‘Read about it in the Chronicle tomorrow.’

‘I wouldn’t believe a thing in that piece of …’ He tailed off, then took a slug from his glass. ‘You level about Salton being croaked?’

‘For God’s sake!’ I said. ‘I don’t know where all this has come from. This bloody island is worse than an echo chamber.’

‘Folks are getting stirred up,’ he observed.

‘There was a riot outside my hotel this morning. Did you have anything to do with that?’

He laughed richly. ‘Why should I beat a drum for a liberal like Salton – a white one, at that?’

‘There was a murder,’ I said. ‘But it wasn’t Salton.’

‘Ogilvie? That cat’s died?’

So he knew about the attack on Owen. I stared into the red depths of my glass. ‘This morning. Anything to tell me about it?’