He fixed Jack with a gaze that reinforced his conviction.

“Would anyone want to frame you?” Jack asked.

Giorgio laughed uneasily and started to cough. Aardvark patted him gently on his back with the kind of care that a mother might administer to her child.

“For what?” he continued once the coughing fit had abated.

“How can I usefully be punished?”

Jack had to agree that he had a point.

“I think,” continued Giorgio, “that someone is trying to throw you off the scent.” He sighed unhappily. “I come from a different world, Mr. Spratt, a world swept away by the unsophisticated modes of death meted out by street gangs, pimps, muggers and drug dealers. No one kills anyone with any style anymore. The kids I see now just shoot each other. Setting one’s opponents’ feet in a bath of cement and then throwing them in the Thames is considered very old hat these days. We used to encase people alive in motorway supports. I’m amazed,” he added nostalgically, “that the elevated sections of Junction 10 even stay up. They tell me I’m just a sad old romantic. The kids today have no respect for tradition. No dash, no style, no elegance. ”

His eyes glistened. “Those were the days. Yes indeed, those were the days.”

“Thank you, Mr. Porgia,” said Jack, thinking it was time to leave. “You’ve been most helpful.”

“I hope you find Humpty’s killer,” said Giorgio thoughtfully.

“I liked the egg a great deal, despite the fact that I am here because of him.”

Jack started in surprise. “What do you mean?”

The old man smiled and dabbed at a trickle of saliva that had inadvertently run from the side of his mouth. “You knew Humpty did three years for laundering money for me?” he asked.

Jack nodded.

“When he was working for me, he was also collecting information to bring me down. He thought that his own loss of liberty was a small price to pay for the removal of my crime syndicate. I was completely taken in. I even bought him an apartment in Spongg Villas for not talking. It was he who sent the dossier to you and Mr. Chymes.”

He leaned forwards and smiled, holding a bony finger in the air.

“Now, that, Inspector, was style. I didn’t find out for ten years. An ex-cop inside told me. I could have had him killed, but I thought on reflection the world was a better place with Humpty still in it. He did much good work, I understand.”

“It depends on your viewpoint, Mr. Porgia.”

The old man wheezed a sad laugh and took a sip of the Guinness that Aardvark had brought for him.

“It does indeed,” he replied wearily, “it does indeed.”

“One other point, Mr. Porgia,” said Jack. “There was a member of the Russian mafia who Chymes hunted down after the Andersen’s Wood murder. His name was Max Zotkin.”

The Governor looked at him intently. “I know of this man,” he said slowly. “What about him?”

“Is he here?”

Porgia took a deep breath and stared at Jack for a moment. “Mr. Zotkin’s residency at Reading Gaol is potentially a matter of grave importance. What will you do with this information, Inspector?”

“Nothing unless pushed, sir. Call it an insurance policy.”

“You are the first person to ask, and while understanding of the reason for the subterfuge, I am unable to lie to you: There is no one of that name resident at this prison, nor has there ever been. Use the information wisely. Good-bye, Inspector. You will excuse me if I don’t get up.”

He looked fondly at Mary.

“Mary, bid me farewell. ”

“’Tis more than you deserve,” replied Mary; “but since you teach me how to flatter you, imagine that I have said farewell already.”

Giorgio smiled and mouthed a silent “Adieu!”

Jack drove away from the prison deep in thought. If someone wanted to make it look as though Winkie had been killed with a Porgia MO, then it stood to reason that it was to throw them off the scent. And if that was the case, then they were clearly looking in the right direction.

Mary was thinking of other things. “Are you going to tell me where Max Zotkin might be if he’s not in prison?”

“No,” replied Jack thoughtfully, “and with a bit of luck, I intend to keep it that way.”

Mary’s phone rang, and she flipped it open, listened to something Baker had to say and then closed it again.

“News?”

“You could say that. It’s Bessie Brooks. She was nabbed trying to run away from a hotel in Swindon without paying. They’re going to transfer her to Reading Central at midday.”