‘Yeah, Georgio Brunos’s little wife. So the house is going on the market now, eh? She must be feeling the pinch with her lord and master banged up in Parkhurst. Never liked him myself, he was an arsehole. All the money he earned and still he argued the toss over getting the commission down on any of his properties.’

Peter Downs walked into his small office and picked up the telephone. He dialled the local Town Hall and asked for Councillor Robertson.

Harry Robertson had just left a planning meeting and was feeling great. He had voted against another large superstore car park, knowing the paving specialist would up the ante on his next approach to him. He picked up the telephone with the air of a man who was happy with himself, happy with life.

‘Hello, Harry Robertson here.’

He never called himself ‘Councillor’, preferring to be known as the plain man’s friend. No titles for Harry, not from the electorate anyway.

‘Councillor Robertson, how are you?’

Harry frowned. ‘Hello, Peter. Long time no see, old chum.’ Harry could sense the other man smiling down the phone. Downs always smiled, even when he was imparting bad news.

‘I had a visitor today, Georgio Brunos’s wife actually,’ the voice said excitedly. ‘She’s put her house on the market. Quick sale by all accounts.’

Harry knew he had to answer, but he was having trouble breathing.

‘Really, Peter? Now what made you think that would be of any interest to me?’

Peter laughed gently. ‘Well, knowing how close you all were, I thought you might like to be told about it. I organised the sale of all the properties Georgio built, if you remember rightly. I know you always had a penchant for Georgio’s place, thought you might have been interested, that’s all. It’s a lovely property - swimming pool, tennis court, and it’s going for a song really - three-quarters of a million in fact. She seems in a hurry to get out. Maybe the upkeep is getting too much, eh?’

Harry decided he had humoured Peter long enough and now was the time for him to act the councillor. Peter was a tad too disrespectful for Harry’s liking.

‘Look, Downs, fascinating as all this is, I really have to go now. I have a planning meeting scheduled for two-fifteen and I want to grab a bite of lunch.’

‘Don’t worry, old boy, I know what you’re like when you want to grab something. Give my regards to Bunty, won’t you?’

Harry found himself holding a dead telephone and cursed under his breath. Downs was getting too big for his boots, but this phone call had proved something to him. Georgio Brunos and all his dealings with him were not going to go away.