'Everything.'

'Scotch, a bit of ice.'

I didn't recognise the bottle; that doesn't mean much; I don't see enough single malts to get well acquainted. He made the drinks and brought the bottle back to the desk. The whisky was smooth-about as far as my capacity for appreciation goes. Standish downed half of his in a swallow and topped up his glass.

'I'm not a drunk,' he said.

'No.'

'Just that it's hard to… relive it all.'

'Yes.'

'Are you making fun of me?'

I sipped the drink. 'No, I'm not. But you've only scratched the surface of what you want to tell me about all this, and I'm wondering how much you're going to have to drink to get through it.'

He pushed the glass away. 'They told me you were a hard man to deal with, but that if I was straight with you you'd give me a hearing and might be willing to help.'

'I wouldn't exactly call what you've been doing up to now being straight.'

'No, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm manipulative-force of habit. Let's start again.'

Standish said his wife, Felicity, had met Malouf at a dinner for people in what he called the finance industry where he was the keynote speaker.

'I was swamped by commitments, clients, prospective clients, offers of various kinds.' He pointed to his glass. 'I'd had a few too many.'

'It happens,' I said.

'Yeah. I tell myself if not that night, then sometime, and if not him, someone else. I sort of believe it. Anyway, the point is, it became an affair. I was busy and didn't know until she hit me with it.'

'You said she was only upset when Malouf was killed, not devastated.'

'You'll think me paranoid, but I suspect her and Malouf's wife and Christ knows who else of being involved in a conspiracy. There's a lot of money involved, but more than that…'

For a man like Standish that was a big admission. What could be 'more' than money? I sipped whisky and waited for him to tell me.