‘Aren’t I just?’ I looked at my watch. Half an hour had gone by. ‘You took your time.’

‘Did I? I’m sorry. Glad you weren’t bored though. I can see you expected to be here a while.’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’ I shrugged, watching a boil the size of a wheel-nut rub at the edge of his greasy collar.

When he spoke his voice came from deep within him, his scarred chin dipping down to his broad chest like a cabaret tenor.

‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘You’re a private detective, aren’t you? A professional smart-ass. Do you mind me asking, what kind of a living do you people make?’

‘What’s the matter, the bribes not coming in regular enough for you?’ He forced himself to smile through that one. ‘I do all right.’

‘Don’t you find that it gets lonely? I mean, you’re a bull down here, you’ve got friends.’

‘Don’t make me laugh. I’ve got a partner, so I get all the friendly shoulder to cry on I need, right?’

‘Oh yes. Your partner. That would be Bruno Stahlecker, wouldn’t it?’

‘That’s right. I could give you his address if you like, but I think he’s married.’

‘All right, Gunther. You’ve proved you’re not scared. No need to make a performance out of it. You were picked up at 4.30. It’s now seven — ’

‘Ask a policeman if you want the right time.’

‘ — but you still haven’t asked anyone why you’re here.’

‘I thought that’s what we were talking about.’

‘Were we? Assume I’m ignorant. That shouldn’t be too difficult for a smart-ass like you. What did we say?’

‘Oh shit, look, this is your sideshow, not mine, so don’t expect me to bring up the curtain and work the fucking lights. You go right ahead with your act and I’ll just try to laugh and clap in the right places.’

‘Very well,’ he said, his voice hardening. ‘So where were you last night?’

‘At home.’

‘Got an alibi?’

‘Yeah. My teddy bear. I was in bed, asleep.’

‘And before that?’

‘I was seeing a client.’

‘Mind telling me who?’

‘Look, I don’t like this. What are we trawling for? Tell me now, or I don’t say another lousy word.’

‘We’ve got your partner downstairs.’

‘What’s he supposed to have done?’

‘What he’s done is get himself killed.’

I shook my head. ‘Killed?’

‘Murdered, to be rather more precise. That’s what we usually call it in these sort of circumstances.’

‘Shit,’ I said, closing my eyes again.

‘That’s my act, Gunther. And I do expect you to help me with the curtain and the lights.’ He jabbed a forefinger against my numb chest. ‘So let’s have some fucking answers, eh?’