‘Not sure I agree,’ I said. ‘The water moves, changes colour.’

‘Have you got a water view, Mr Hardy?’

‘Not really-a glimpse of Blackwattle – Bay between blocks of flats. What would you want me to do, Mr Young?’

‘Keep watch at night. Make a citizen’s arrest and hand them over to the police?’

‘With photos of them in action?’

He nodded. ‘Good idea.’

‘How do they do it-copper nails?’

‘You know about that, do you?’

‘Not really. I remember my father trying it to kill off a rubber tree that got out of hand. Can’t remember if it worked. Most of the things he tried didn’t.’

‘That’s old-fashioned. No, I’m told they drill holes and pour in some poison or other.’

‘Who told you?’

‘I’ve got a mate, Chester Ivens, lives in the flat below this. He went over there and took a look at the dying one. He’s as pissed off about it as me, but he’s another old fart and can’t stay up much beyond nine o’clock.’

Didn’t sound too hard. Young wheeled himself back inside. I’d brought a contract form with me. He signed it and wrote a cheque. I said I’d get on the job straightaway and I did.

I called on Young’s mobile mate. There were quite a few more things I needed to know. He came to the door and seemed pretty spry. A medium-sized bloke, bald, stringy lean, with a cheerful attitude. I introduced myself and he shook my hand enthusiastically.

‘Glad Joe took my advice. About time something got done. Come in.’

‘Thanks, but I thought you might take me over and show me what’s what.’

‘Be glad to take a walk with a bit of company. Gets bloody lonely and boring, this retirement. Hang on while I grab a coat.’

He came back, pulling on a padded jacket, slapped his pants pocket to check that he had his keys and yanked the door shut.