‘For God’s sake, why did you pass on your grandfather’s message to Hawke? Leaving aside the ethics of it, it was a bloody foolish thing to do if you really feel as you say you do.’

‘Joe was there when the call came through. I saw no reason not to tell him. He went off like a fire cracker.’ McKittrick pointed ahead. ‘That’s the house.’

It was not very large but neat and of modern design. When we got out of the car McKittrick said, ‘I’m still living in a Salton Estates house too, and that doesn’t make me feel any better.’

I thought that McKittrick needed a swift kick in the pants to bring him out of his self-abasement, but I didn’t say anything. We went into the house and he introduced me to his wife, a pretty young woman called Lena. She said, ‘Make yourself at home, Mr Kemp. Would you like a cold beer?’

‘That would be very nice.’

She went away and I looked around the room. It was well furnished but did not reek of money, as a lot of other rooms had that I’d visited recently. There were a lot of books. My gaze returned to McKittrick, who was slumped in an armchair. ‘What do you want to see me about?’

His voice was low. ‘Later.’

I sat down and Lena came back with glasses and cans of beer on a metal tray. As she put it down, I noticed four glasses on the tray. My confusion was shortlived: Joe Hawke came out of the kitchen, a thunderous frown on his face. ‘What did you bring the fuzz for? And that’s a cop car you’re driving.’

‘Hertz and Avis have got competition,’ I said. ‘Would you believe the Campanillan Police Force?’

‘Don’t crack wise, peckerwood.’

‘I’ll tell you what,’ I said. ‘I’ll talk English if you will. That phoney lingo makes my ears hurt.’

He grinned and the twinkle returned to his eyes. ‘Someone’s been talking out of school. Could it have been my friend Superintendent Hanna?’ His voice was now cool and well-modulated eastern States. He handed me a glass and a can of beer. ‘All right, we’ve had our fun, so let’s get down to business. That cop outside – what’s he there for?’

‘To see that I come to no harm.’

‘It figures,’ Hawke said to McKittrick. ‘Someone tried to shoot Kemp yesterday.’

That was curious: McKittrick hadn’t known but Hawke did. I made a mental note to tell Hanna that Hawke might have a pipeline into his department. ‘They didn’t try,’ I said. ‘They succeeded. I can still feel the pain. Any idea who it was, Joe?’

‘No. I put out the word but got no answer.’ He filled his glass carefully. ‘What did you think of Leotta Tomsson?’

‘Nice girl.’

‘That all?’

‘What else is there?’