He insisted on writing out the retainer cheque there and then. I didn’t protest; things do become more serious when money changes hands. I asked Wesley if he had a photograph. He rummaged in a drawer and came up with a recent snap taken by Mandy. She’d caught her boy standing with his arms in the air and a wide smile on his handsome face. He wore tight shorts and a sleeveless black jersey with a red diagonal stripe on it. I could see four goalposts in the background, two tall, two shorter.

‘Australian football,’ I said.

Wesley shrugged. ‘The game’s a mystery to me but the boy’s good at it. He plays for Campbelltown in the local competition. Centre half-forward, whatever that means. I’ve watched him play. He kicks goals. He’s just kicked one in the picture there. Strange game-they pass forward and back, no offside. Soccer’s my game. You?’

‘Union, used to be. I’ve lost interest lately.’ I wiped my hands on the towel before picking up the cheque and the photo. ‘What other sports does he play?’

‘You name it. He’s off a five handicap at golf, plays basketball for the university

‘I get the idea. I’ll start as soon as I get cleaned up. I’ll put my numbers on the fax. Ring me anytime, especially if you hear from him. I hope you will.’

‘Okay,’ Wesley said, but the gloom was settling back on him.

‘Look, Wes, is there anything you haven’t told me? Any trouble he might have been in?’

He shook his head. ‘That’s part of the problem. I’ve been thinking about that, thinking back. But he never put a foot wrong. No joy-riding, pot-smoking, getting pissed. He doesn’t drink or smoke. There’s nothing, nothing at all.’

I patted him on the shoulder and headed off, but what he’d said worried me. I don’t believe in paragons of virtue.

I drove home, cleaned up, went to the office and sent the fax. I tidied up a few loose ends and set off for Helensburgh. Not being a skier, I don’t think winter shows off any place to advantage, and it’s certainly not the best time to visit Helensburgh.