The office was in a building in St Peters Lane, Darlinghurst, a bit back from William Street, a bit down from Kings Cross. I’d taken out a six-month lease a week before. I was two floors up with a desk, a phone, a chair, a filing cabinet and one dirty window. Other than that, there’s nothing more to say about the place except that it was cheap. No, there is more to say. I figured it was good territory-anyone street-wise and tough entering there wouldn’t turn a hair. Anyone pretending to be those things would turn plenty of hairs. And I wasn’t expecting too many blondes in Dior dresses. I anticipated that most of my business would come to me over the telephone. So far, I’d been one hundred per cent right.

Mrs M was away for the week and Mr M was expected to play up. I collected him in Surry Hills. He ran a finance company named Meadowbank Credit and he wasn’t hard to spot coming out of the car park-big grey Mercedes, arrogant tilt to the head as he waited for the traffic, brusque, impatient driving style. I followed him to his flat in Bellevue Hill-Birriga Road, as you’d expect, overlooking Bellevue Park. Medium-sized block in a garden setting with terrific views, ample car parking and tight security. The Merc sailed into harbour and I settled down to roll a supply of cigarettes and perfect the most essential part of the private detective’s trade-waiting and not falling asleep.

Meadowbank emerged at 7.30 on the dot. He’d had time to shower, slap on the cologne, change his shirt and socks, and check the wallet. I followed the Mercedes to a block of flats in Rose Bay. Not up to the Birriga Road standard, but not bad. Old-style, red brick, spacious balconies and a good view of the boats. Meadowbank jockeyed the big car into a tight space with a fair bit of wheel-turning and tyre-torturing. He looked flustered when he got out and wiped his face with a handkerchief. He was a stocky, fleshy type with horn-rim glasses and iron grey hair. His suit matched his car for colour and cost. The finance business must be doing all right. Mrs Meadowbank was looking at a nice slice.