Hawke laughed shortly. ‘Cagey, aren’t you?’

‘It’s just that I’m not on your side,’ I said, and tasted the beer. It was cold and bitter on the tongue.

‘I know you don’t like me, Mr Kemp, but I’m still going to help you. I’ve tried once and I’ll try again.’

‘I can hardly wait.’

‘Now, this is a hot one,’ he said. ‘You know Raymond White?’

‘Never heard of him.’

‘He works at El Cerco – keeps the boats in order, things like that.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve met him.’

‘You remember the testimony at the inquest. Mrs Salton said her husband left the house and she thought he’d taken a plane flight. The plane took off at eleven in the morning. Right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Then, when the plane came back and she discovered he had never been on it, she telephoned the police. While they were at El Cerco she remembered about the boat and it was found missing. The assumption was that Salton had taken it to sea, had a heart attack and died.’

‘All correct so far.’

Hawke leaned comfortably back in his chair and twinkled at me. ‘What if somebody came forward and said that the boat was in the boathouse at three in the morning the day after Salton was last seen? And what if he said that it was missing an hour later?’

‘Is someone saying that?’

‘Why don’t you ask Ray White?’ He smiled at me. ‘I’ve handed it to you on a platter.’ He put up a finger. ‘What the hell was Salton doing between eleven in the morning and four the next morning wearing only shorts and a polo shirt?’ A second finger. ‘White will say that a woman took the boat away.’ A third finger. ‘So where the hell does that leave Mrs Salton?’

I glanced at McKittrick. He had not said a word since Hawke came into the room. He just looked sick.

SEVEN

I

I telephoned Hanna from McKittrick’s house and told him about it. This was something for the police to handle: Hanna wouldn’t thank me if I played the amateur detective and interrogated White, however skilfully I might do it. With several pairs of ears in the room, I told the story baldly, sticking to the facts and avoiding the speculation with which Hawke had embroidered it.

A long silence bored into my ear, and I said, ‘Are you there?’

‘I’m thinking,’ said Hanna testily. ‘Someone on this case has got to think some time. Hawke told you all this?’

‘That’s right. Wasn’t White questioned during the original investigation?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Hanna. ‘Barstow handled the El Cerco end personally. Wait a minute – I’ll check the report.’