“Yes; if I’d known he was going to get so… er, poached, I would never have had him at my table.”

“He said he could raise fifty million pounds just like that. What do you think he was referring to?”

“A refinancing package? Who knows? As I said, his plans for Spongg’s were a complete mystery to me.”

Jack looked at Spongg carefully, trying to find a chink in the man’s reserve. Pewter had said Humpty might have wanted to sell out to Grundy, so he watched closely for Spongg’s reaction to his next question.

“Do you think he was going to sell out to Winsum and Loosum?”

Spongg was unfazed. He shrugged. “Possibly, although I think he might have left it a little late. Grundy’s waiting for me to go under so they can buy what they want from the receivers. It’s not a question of if, it’s a question of when. ”

Spongg looked at them both and raised an eyebrow. “By your line of questioning, I can see that you are not satisfied with the circumstances of Humpty’s death.”

“Correct, sir. We regard it as suspicious.”

“Does this make me a suspect?”

“I view everyone as a suspect,” said Jack politely. “Perhaps you would tell us your movements after the Spongg Charity Benefit ended.”

Spongg smiled. “Of course. I was driven home to Castle Spongg by Ffinkworth, my valet, at about half past midnight. Past one o’clock until breakfast at seven, I am afraid I can offer no witnesses.”

Mary made a note.

“And did you see much of Humpty otherwise?”

“Up until the night of the benefit, I hadn’t seen him for over a year. His death benefits no one here at Spongg’s, Inspector—quite the reverse.”

“Would you have any idea who might want him dead, Spongg?”

“A parade of cuckolded husbands, jilted lovers, disgruntled restaurateurs and unpaid wine merchants—I should imagine the list will be quite long.”

“What about Solomon Grundy?”

Spongg thought for a moment. “Did you hear about Humpty’s Splotvian mineral-rights debacle?”

Jack nodded.

“If you examine the list of people defrauded, I think you will find Mr. Grundy quite high up on it. I don’t think Solomon would resort to murder, but you should know about it.”

“Indeed we should,” replied Jack, taking a note. “Mary, do you have anything else to add?”

“Are you married, sir?” asked Mary.

“Was. I’m single at present.”

“Nothing else.”

Jack handed Spongg his card. “Thank you for your help, and I hope the company picks up. We’ll see ourselves out.”

They left Spongg staring at the model of his beloved factory. Jack had meant what he said: No one wanted to see Spongg’s go down; it had been a part of Reading for so long that its presence was alive all over the town. Apart from Sponggville, Spongg Villas and the Spongg Memorial Gardens, there was Spongg Street and Spongg Lane. The town hall was dedicated to the first Dr. Spongg, and outside the town was Castle Spongg, a vast country home built in the surrealist style in the thirties.

“What do you reckon?” asked Mary.

Jack thought for a moment. “He seems genuinely confused over why Humpty should be buying shares in the company. Humpty’s death doesn’t help him—with his shares in probate limboland, they can’t be sold, either to Grundy or anyone else. Spongg’s is going down the tubes, and it’s a shame. Next is Winsum and Loosum’s—and you’re driving.”

He tossed her the keys and they were soon motoring towards the exit past packing cases full of unsold foot ointments.

“Mary, why did you ask Spongg if he was married?”

Mary delicately pulled on the turn signal lever and the Lucas relay clicked at her with a soft metallic chirrup.

“I couldn’t help myself. Sorry. He is kind of attractive.”

She pulled into the main road a little too quickly; a small sports car with the top down and a distinctive paint scheme appeared behind them and drove past at great speed, horn blaring.