The accountant’s office was in Clarence Street, a converted bungalow with an addition at the back and the front garden entirely sealed to provide carparks. At each side of the door was a blue ceramic tub with a rigorously clipped buxus as a vestige of what once had been. Lim was waiting for them in the front room, most of which was taken up with the receptionist’s desk, filing cabinets and photocopier. Behind the desk was a smartly dressed elderly woman with the whitest of hair drawn back from her face. Although only two metres from Pearly, Kevin and Lim, she maintained the pretence of emotional distance as they talked, keeping her eyes to the desk and maintaining a slight abstracted smile. Only when Pearly and Lim had been introduced to each other and all three were talking generally did she look up to engage, to tell them that Mr Hughes was ready to see them. Pearly would have preferred more time with Lim before going in, but he was in the unaccustomed situation of being under the direction of others.

Jack Hughes was the accountant, and he came to the door of his office to usher them in. ‘I appreciate your seeing us at such short notice,’ Pearly said as one well aware of how full a business diary can be.

‘Well, I know you’ve come up just for the day,’ said Jack. He wore a shirt that matched the blue of the welcoming ceramic pots and pale linen shorts that emphasised his long, brown legs. He had an ease of movement that was more than merely professional confidence. He’d be a golfer, Pearly decided, financially comfortable enough to allow a couple of afternoons each week to work the course and earn an enviable handicap. Pearly had never taken to golf. Jack was cool and composed; Pearly, in a jacket, felt hot and overdressed. He never wore shorts except on holiday or playing sport, but the heat of Auckland was muggy: a different heat to the south. The accountant was interested when Kevin, in introducing his father, mentioned where he lived and that he was mayor. ‘I have a relative there you may know,’ Jack said. ‘Esther Hall, the MP?’

‘I know her well,’ said Pearly.

‘Better than me, no doubt. She’s some degree of cousin, but I’ve only met her a couple of times. Do give her my regards.’

It was pleasant enough to find even that fortuitous link with Jack Hughes, but Pearly knew that every minute in that office would register on the charge sheet, and he didn’t wish to pay much to hear about Jack’s second cousins on his mother’s side or whatever. ‘So what’s the bones of the problem with Kevin’s business, then?’ he said. ‘And Lim’s too, of course,’ he added as an afterthought and with a nod of apology towards Lim.