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looked ready to renew her objections to answering questions about her family, then she took a deep breath and said, ‘Mary’s four years older than me. When I was a kid, I hung around her all the time. Must have driven her mad but she never showed it. When I got into junior athletics she was really supportive, took me along to her gym to work out, came and shouted for me when I was running.’

      ‘She was into sport too?’ asked Joe.

      ‘Oh yes. She’s got a great eye. Squash was her thing. She won lots of junior trophies and her first season when she moved up to senior level, she got to the national semis. She was going places.’

      ‘But?’

      ‘But two years ago she was in a car accident. Her knee got busted pretty bad. They put it together again fine, but not so they felt it would stand up to the strain of training for and playing top-level squash. Otherwise though it’s completely normal.’

      ‘I thought she had a bit of a limp.’

      ‘Oh yes. No physical reason according to the doctors, but it comes on from time to time.’

      Especially when you’re around? wondered Joe. But he thought it better to leave it for now.

      ‘She start working for Endor before he became your agent or after?’ he asked.

      ‘Oh, after, I think,’ she said vaguely. ‘She’s doing really well.’

      ‘Yeah? Take you over on her own account eventually?’

      ‘Could be. Main thing is she’s off work now till the New Year so it’s great we can spend time together.’

      ‘That’s right. Family’s important,’ said Joe. ‘Any chance I can take a look at your house?’

      Take a look at the rest of your family, he meant.

      ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to finish my day’s schedule here. Why don’t you come back about four, pick me and my gear up and drive me home? That way you’ll look like you’re working for your living.’

      ‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘By the way, what’s happened to Starbright?’

      ‘Missing him already, are you?’ grinned Zak. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be around.’

      He was. First person Joe saw as he walked away from the locker room was the cuboid Celt.

      ‘Hi there,’ said Joe. ‘Thought you were supposed to be a minder?’

      ‘Thought you were supposed to be a detective,’ sneered Starbright in his high-pitched voice. ‘Saw you arrive. Didn’t report straight to Miss Oto though, did you? Had a long chat with Hardiman first.’

      ‘Yeah, well,’ said Joe, for some reason feeling as defensive as a preacher spotted going into a cathouse. ‘Turns out he’s an old schoolfriend.’

      ‘Very cosy,’ said the Welshman. ‘Share a cell, did you?’

      Joe was getting a bit tired of this.

      ‘I’m a PI,’ he said. ‘I do my job by talking to people. Thought you did yours by sticking close to whoever you’re being paid to look after. What if there’d been a mad axeman in the locker room?’

      ‘Had you to look after her in there, didn’t she?’ said Starbright. ‘It’s a mad axeman you’re expecting then?’

      How much does he know about what’s going on? wondered Joe. Maybe as official minder he should be brought up to speed, but that was Zak’s call.

      ‘Look,’ he said. ‘What she tells you is her business, OK? But believe me, my business has got nothing to do with your business. Breaking bones, I mean.’

      ‘You amaze me,’ said Starbright.

      Zak had come out of the locker room and was walking away from them down the corridor. Even from the back she looked beautiful. Starbright went after her. Even in retreat he looked menacing.

      Funny the way the Lord doled out his gifts, thought Joe Sixsmith a touch enviously.

      But not enough for it to touch his tranquillity more than the moment it took to turn and start towards the car park, which, though he did not know he’d got it, was perhaps a greater gift than either menace or beauty.

       7

      Back in the car, Whitey was still in a deep sulk, manifested by lying on his back on the passenger seat, breathing shallowly and twitching intermittently in the hope of persuading some bleeding-heart passer-by to ring the RSPCA. Joe’s return signalled failure, so he opted for deep sleep. But when the car stopped and Joe got out, the cat leapt to full awakeness, a single sniff telling him they were at Ram Ray’s Garage, and Ram was always good for certain little Indian sweetmeats Whitey was very partial to.

      ‘Good morning, Joe. Car still running well, I see. That engine sounds sweet as a temple bell. Make me a fair offer and it’s yours for keeps.’

      Ram Ray was six foot tall, with silky black moustaches, melting brown eyes, and a sales patter which could sell veal-burgers to a vegan. Particularly a female vegan.

      ‘Fair offer would be you giving me the car plus a monkey for the work I’ve done on it,’ said Joe.

      ‘Always the merry quip,’ said Ram, leading the way into the office where Eloise, his nubile secretary, switched her radio off and the kettle on. Whitey, recognizing the source of good things, rubbed himself against her legs, purring like a Daimler. Not a bad life being a cat, thought Joe. Zak’s bosom, Eloise’s legs – he’d be purring too. Or more likely, have a heart attack.

      ‘So, Joe, what’s new?’ asked Ram. ‘Heard from Penthouse yet?’

      ‘Yes, I’ve heard,’ said Joe. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

      He’d been tempted to let the bad news keep till the New Year, but whatever he felt about the Magic Mini, letting him have it on extended rent-free loan had been an act of kindness which deserved honest dealing.

      He showed Ram the letter.

      ‘I’m going to fight,’ he said. ‘But it means no money for the Morris for a long time, maybe never.’

      ‘Don’t let it worry you, Joe,’ said Ram. ‘You have a good lawyer, I hope? You need a specialist to deal with these bastards.’

      Joe thought of Peter Potter.

      ‘It’s in hand,’ he said. ‘So it’s OK to hang on to the Mini?’

      ‘My pleasure,’ said Ram.

      ‘And what about a respray …?’

      ‘Please, Joe. Not again. It has a value over and above its trade price. Those are original stencils. It is a piece of genuine sixties memorabilia. One of the exhibitions they are planning for the new gallery at the Plezz is concerned with the psychedelic era and already I am getting some interested enquiries.’

      ‘I get interested enquiries all the time,’ said Joe. ‘Like where did I get such a big box of chocolates? Or can I have three iced lollies, please?’

      ‘You see?’ said Ram, pleased. ‘People notice. A Ram Ray loan car. Excellent for business.’

      This was the fatal flaw in Ram Ray’s otherwise amiable character. If it was excellent for business, he would have tattoed his name on his own grandmother.

      Joe didn’t bother repeating his old plea that being the cynosure of attention in motion or at rest was far from excellent for his business, but turned to accept a cup of tea from Eloise, who, with a herald’s instinct for precedence, had seen to Whitey’s needs first.

      Like the Mini, the tea was rather too flowery for Joe’s taste and

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