‘Why?’

‘To get whoever it was that killed Carmel.’

‘Revenge,’ I said. ‘Trial. Publicity.’

‘Carmel was an innocent bystander. With that clear I don’t mind the publicity. It’s all this “video girl” bullshit I can’t handle. Please, Hardy, I need your help. What’re your fees?’

‘A hundred and twenty a day plus expenses.’

‘Retainer?’

‘Two days pay, up front.’

He got a cheque book from his inside jacket pocket. To get it he had to open the jacket. He was thick-bodied but not fat; he wore a white shirt and plain tie. There were sweat patches under his arms although the day was cool and his suit was lightweight. I sweat under pressure myself so I was sympathetic. He poised a ballpoint over the cheque.

‘I’ll give you a week in advance.’

‘Easy,’ I said. ‘Give me the information you won’t give the cops first. Then we’ll see.’

The Greenwich Apartments, Leo Wise told me, were built in the 1930s when materials were plentiful and work was scarce.

‘They’re well-built, see? The builder could get the right timbers and everything and the workers wanted the job to last so they took care. I bought the place about three years ago. It was run-down of course, and two of the flats’ve been empty for a while. I’m… I was going to do them all up, eventually.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘So, numbers four and five, they’re empty. There’s a couple in number two, been there the whole time. And there’s a young bloke in three. Agent reckons he’s all right, pays on time.’

I wrote ‘agent?’ on a page of my notebook and waited for him to say more. He was looking out the window again. Getting to the hard part, I thought.

‘Flat one’s on the ground, right on ground level. No stairs or anything. You just walk in from the courtyard. Bugger all view, no balcony, smaller than the others if anything.’