Cavalier didn’t react. He was making a mental note of every road turn and location points. They turned into Nicholas Drive, which wound up higher and higher. The driver began having trouble keeping traction on the slippery road. Cavalier looked up and could see the dome of Haut’s home. It projected over treetops, and seemed to hover beyond the mountain like a Swiss chalet.

Cavalier told the driver to stop. He alighted in the rain and used his binoculars to zero in on the tower.

He stepped back to the edge of the road, thinking an assassin could get a shot into the tower. Distance was not a problem. Accuracy was. He eased back into the car. The driver was now concerned.

‘What were you doing?’

‘I may buy the place,’ Cavalier said, as if this would explain everything. The driver raised his eyebrows and nodded. They stopped opposite Al Haut’s home. Cavalier directed the driver on up beyond it. He was not happy having to reverse in the wet to turn around. Cavalier used his binoculars again. The driver taxied down to the house. Cavalier paid the fare. The driver scowled and took off.

Cavalier stood for a second, taking in the marvellous mid-morning views across the bay. It was peaceful. He walked down a few steps, hesitated at the front entrance and then moved left to other steps that ran down to a door leading to a laundry. Cavalier returned to the front door and knocked. Haut did not answer. Cavalier knocked louder. Haut, holding a rifle, opened the door. They shook hands.

Without indulging in the usual pleasantries, Cavalier said, ‘They’ll come in the door at the side leading to the laundry.’

‘You think so?’

‘I’ve checked it. Easy to jemmy it open.’

Cavalier asked for a tour of the property. He examined all the fences. He noticed a small cross over a dirt patch in the garden where a couple of roses were already growing.

‘Mac?’ Cavalier asked.

‘Yeah,’ Haut said with an anguished look. ‘Wish he were here now.’

‘I do too. What a beautiful brute he was!’ Cavalier said. ‘But it may be better he isn’t here. Mac might’ve frightened them off.’

Haut frowned.

‘We want them to come to us,’ Cavalier said.

They moved back inside the house.

‘Did you ever get a clue to who might have killed Mac?’ Cavalier asked.

‘Not really. There were traces of blood on his teeth and gums, so it’s possible that he got a piece of the intruder. I rang around the local doctors. One said he treated a guy for lacerations about the time of the killing. But this doctor said all he could remember was that the bloke was thin and reeked of cigar smoke. The doctor said he had an accent he couldn’t detect.’