Or could be the YFG was a solicitor about to serve a writ for non-payment of any of the things Joe had non- paid recently.
Or could even be he was a hit man on a contract taken out by one of the top criminals Joe had crossed in his unrelenting crusade for justice…
No, scrub that one. This guy didn't look like he'd slap your wrist for less than a grand, and in pay-back terms Joe's recent toe-treading didn't rate much more than a ten-quid kicking up an alley.
He realized another companionable silence was developing.
He said, "How can I help you, Mr. Porphyry?"
"I do hope so," said Porphyry with such touching vulnerability of tone and expression that Joe hadn't the heart to point out this wasn't a helpful or even a possible reply to his question. But the YFG hadn't finished. Maybe divine revelation was on its way.
"Willie spoke very highly of you," he said with the stress on very and a slight but emphatic nod of his beautiful head as if this testimonial from this source was confirmation absolute of Joe's competence.
"He did, huh?" said Joe, trying to identify his unexpected fan. Trouble was most of the Willies he could bring to mind failed on both counts-speaking highly of him or being on friendly terms with YFGs. He gave up and added, "That would be Willie…?"
"Woodbine," said Porphyry.
"As in Detective Superintendent Woodbine?" said Joe disbelievingly.
"That's the chap. Done awfully well for himself, old Willie. Naturally I turned to him first. Not his line of country really, he said. But if I wanted to try the private sector, there's this chap, Joe Sixsmith. Cutting edge of investigation. He's your man."