I was mollified, but another old habit is making life tough for policemen. ‘Of whom?’ I asked.

He knew I was taking the piss, but held in his irritation and played along. ‘Cleve Harvey.’

I nodded.

‘You know him?’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘I’ve just about had enough of this, Hardy.’

I opened the gate, put the mobile away. ‘Yeah, me too. I know him. Can’t say I’m sorry he’s been shot. Or surprised. What’s it got to do with me?’

‘You haven’t asked how he’s doing.’

‘How’s he doing?’

‘He’s going to die.’

‘You don’t think I shot him?’

He raised his hand and I heard the car door slam across the street. Footsteps. ‘Let’s just say that you’re a person of interest.’

They took me to the Surry Hills police centre where I phoned Viv Garner, my solicitor. He said he’d be there within the hour. I waited, got up to go, escorted, to the toilet, and waited some more. Viv arrived and we were shown into an interview room. Decor functional, lighting adequate, atmospherics, since smoking went the way of the telephone directory slam and the kidney punch, sterile. Viv and I didn’t talk much. We’d been through the routine before and knew how to handle it unless there were any big surprises.

Wilson came in and fired up the recording devices. He announced the names of those present, the date and the time.

‘What’s the nature of your relationship with Cleve Harvey?’ Wilson said.

Viv said, ‘I think my client should be given some indication of why he’s a person of interest.’

‘It’s okay, Viv,’ I said. ‘I’ll cooperate as far as I can. Clue me if you spot anything sticky.’ I switched my attention to Wilson. ‘I met Harvey in Berrima gaol when I was serving a sentence for-’

‘No need,’ Viv said.

‘Right. Harvey was in for GBH. He was a thug and a standover merchant, heavying the young ones for cigarettes and winnings at cards. I fronted him and we had a fight. I beat him. We met up again in a pub a few years later and had another fight. I beat him again.’