He whistled a tune – it was oddly familiar to me. ‘I always remember that. I saw Harry write it. Just in a couple of minutes on the back of an envelope. That was what he always whistled when he had something on his mind. It was his signature tune.’ He whistled the tune a second time, and I knew then who had written it – of course it wasn’t Harry. I nearly told him so, but what was the point? The tune wavered and went out. He stared down into his glass, drained what was left, and said, ‘It’s a damned shame to think of him dying the way he did.’

‘It was the best thing that ever happened to him,’ I said.

He didn’t take in my meaning at once: he was a little hazy with his drinks. ‘The best thing?’

‘Yes.’

‘You mean there wasn’t any pain?’

‘He was lucky in that way, too.’

It was my tone of voice and not my words that caught Martins’ attention. He asked gently and dangerously – I could see his right hand tighten – ‘Are you hinting at something?’

There is no point at all in showing physical courage in all situations: I eased my chair far enough back to be out of reach of his fist. I said, ‘I mean that I had his case completed at police headquarters. He would have served a long spell – a very long spell – if it hadn’t been for the accident.’

‘What for?’

‘He was about the worst racketeer who ever made a dirty living in this city.’

I could see him measuring the distance between us and deciding that he couldn’t reach me from where he sat. Rollo wanted to hit out, but Martins was steady, careful. Martins, I began to realize, was dangerous. I wondered whether after all I had made a complete mistake: I couldn’t see Martins being quite the mug that Rollo had made out. ‘You’re a policeman?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve always hated policemen. They are always either crooked or stupid.’

‘Is that the kind of book you write?’

I could see him edging his chair round to block my way out. I caught the waiter’s eye and he knew what I meant – there’s an advantage in always using the same bar for interviews.

Martins brought out a surface smile and said gently, ‘I have to call them sheriffs.’

‘Been in America?’ It was a silly conversation.

‘No. Is this an interrogation?’

‘Just interest.’

‘Because if Harry was that kind of racketeer, I must be one too. We always worked together.’

‘I daresay he meant to cut you in – somewhere in the organization. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had meant to give you the baby to hold. That was his method at school – you told me, didn’t you? And, you see, the headmaster was getting to know a thing or two.’