He looked at the glass in his hand. ‘No’, he said quietly. ‘I’ve hardly had a drink since it started. No one to drink with, much. Nola’s gone.’

He meant his wife of ten years. I’d only met her once-had no clear image. ‘That’s tough, Frank. I’m sorry. Was that connected with…?’

‘The screwing of Frank Parker? Not really. Shit, I was never there and dead tired when I was. There was no money to speak of, and no fun. She found someone who could give her a bit of both. Who could blame her? We both changed, and in different directions-I got harder, she got softer. Thank Christ we didn’t have any kids.’

‘You still haven’t told me what you’re going to do about it.’

‘I haven’t decided. Give me a chance. Let’s leave me for a bit.’ He took a drink and gave me one of his professional appraisals. ‘You need a haircut. You haven’t changed much since I last saw you. Why should you? You probably looked forty when you were twenty. You’re that sort.’

I made a fist. ‘I’ve changed inside, Frank.’

‘How are things-inside?’

I hadn’t thought hard about it. How were they? I had all my hair and most of my health. I was independent. I was reading Bartlett and Steele’s biography of Howard Hughes: I was better off than Hughes, but then, everyone in the bar was better off than Howard Hughes. I was all right.

‘I’m okay’, I said. ‘Working for a guy named Paul Guthrie, know him?’

Parker shook his head. ‘Must be a good clean job if you can tell me who you’re working for.’

‘I wouldn’t call it clean, not altogether.’

‘There’s no such thing as really clean in your game, or in mine.’ He drank and snorted. ‘Whatever that is now. Nola said it was a dirty game anyhow.’

‘What’s her new bloke do?’

‘Search me. Why did you come to see me? You’re working for fairly clean Mr Guthrie and…?’

‘His son’s run off the rails. Stepson really. He’s put himself out of touch with the family, dropped a girl you’d run to Melbourne for, and he’s keeping bad company.’