Within minutes he’d been through his cousin’s possessions. The bulk of the drawers contained only clothing. The built-in wardrobe stored grey pants and matching jackets, a row of stiff white shirts and a tail-coated dinner suit.

Voices coming from out the front startled him. He edged to the gap between the blind and the window. Just off the street, Dad, Mr Jones, and a woman were chatting by the gate. Mr Jones looked like a man forced into hearing someone out without really listening. Dad was rocking impatiently on his feet, itching to get going.

James only had time to retreat into the toilet before he heard the front door unlock.

‘You may as well leave me the key and just go back to the pub,’ Dad said. ‘I might be here a while.’

‘You haven’t told me what you’re looking for yet,’ Mr Jones said.

‘Police business,’ Dad said, his voice getting louder as he moved inside. ‘Can’t really say.’

‘Thought you were retired?’ Mr Jones said, putting a hopeful laugh at the end of it.

They stopped outside the toilet just as James remembered his shoes were still sitting in the kitchen.

‘That clock’s the only thing of any value,’ Mr Jones said.

Dad grunted. ‘What’s it worth, you reckon?’

‘You’d have to get an appraisal, but there’s not really enough to justify me getting an estate auctioneer in.’

‘I dunno if it still works,’ his father said. ‘Used to be a winder.’

They moved into the kitchen and started opening cupboards.

‘You looking for the motorbike keys again, is that it?’ Mr Jones said.

Dad laughed awkwardly and coughed. ‘It crossed my mind that we ought to have checked if Tony still had a bike. He sold his ute when he moved into town, but I don’t reckon the old car would have made it as far as the coast. So what was he using for long trips?’

‘Those vintage Fords are just the sort of thing people are starting to collect,’ Mr Jones said. ‘Even if they’re not in great working condition.’

‘It’s had a few dings over the years,’ Dad said. ‘Bill and I rolled it once, on my buck’s night.’

‘I remember,’ Mr Jones said, laughing. ‘I was in the back seat.’

They chuckled.

‘So, no motorbike keys anywhere that I can see,’ Mr Jones said. ‘Satisfied?’

James heard a drawer open and paperwork being pushed around.

‘Well, if I could find a receipt telling me he’d sold it,’ Dad said. ‘I suppose I could put the idea to rest.’

‘What are you gonna do, reopen the case?’ Mr Jones asked, scoffing at the idea.

Dad didn’t laugh. ‘It’s probably worth heading down to Dangar to take a look at the yacht.’

‘Well, I could do an appraisal on it for you,’ Mr Jones said.

‘Rightyo,’ Dad said. ‘Reckon Jamie’s back at the pub by now?’