The Easy Sin (27 page)

“What the hell—”

“I'm Detective Decker. Come in, Mr. Magee.”

Kylie rushed at him as if expecting to have to race Caroline. She flung her arms round him and kissed him. Caroline, arms folded, watched the reunion with a smile. Detectives Dallen and Decker busied themselves putting on lightweight dressing-gowns, non-police issue. Sheryl put her gun in the pocket of her gown, where it sagged like a hidden growth.

Magee broke free of Kylie's possessive embrace, ignored the two policewomen and looked at Caroline. “What are you doing here?”

Sheryl stepped forward. “Before we get into the domestic scene, Mr. Magee—”

“Who are you?” He was tired and belligerent.

“Detective Constable Dallen, of Homicide. This is Detective Constable Decker—”

“Homicide? You thought I was
dead
?”

“No, darling—” Kylie had her arm locked in his; she wasn't going to let him go. “Juanita was murdered—”

Then
Monica and her husband, Clarrie, appeared, both in pyjamas. The room looked like an adult slumber party. Magee was puzzled, bewildered. All at once the last two days caught up with him, swamping him like a huge surf dumper. He did something he had never done in his life before: he fainted.

IV

At six the next morning Darlene, in her Spirit of Olympics T-shirt and shorts, went out for her usual daily jog. She carried with her a brown paper bag half-full of twenty-cent coins. Shirlee put all her spare coins into a large jam jar and each year, when the Salvation Army made its usual annual door-knock, she gave them the jar full of coins and, for an hour or two, felt like Mother Teresa.

Darlene jogged half a mile from home to a public phone box. From there she rang four television stations, three radio stations and two morning newspapers. Then she jogged back home, feeling healthier and in better humour than she had in the past two days.

9

I

AT SEVEN-THIRTY
Malone, Clements and Chief Superintendent Random arrived simultaneously, as if on cue, outside the Garden Apartments. There were press cars and radio cars and TV vans and a horde of reporters; one might have thought a sporting hero had come back from the dead, instead of just another IT whiz. The three officers double-parked, gave their keys to one of the several uniformed men keeping the peace, and went into the lobby of the apartments.

A brown-uniformed concierge was already on duty, holding open a side door beside the revolving door through which the detectives had entered. A thin, prematurely grey-haired man in a track suit and trainers was pushing someone in a wheelchair out through the doorway. Malone had to look twice, discreetly, to tell whether the cerebral palsy victim in the wheelchair was a boy or a man. It was a boy, maybe twelve years old, who twisted his head and looked out at the packed pavement with fear. Then he and the man were gone, the crowd opening up to let them through, then closing behind them.

“They go out every morning,” said the concierge, recognizing Malone. “For their constitutional.”

Malone could only nod, silently blessing himself and Lisa for their luck. Some people were born, he thought, while God was looking the other way.

“Fantastic news, eh?” said the concierge, holding open the lift doors for them. “Mr. Magee being back.”

“Fantastic,” said Malone; then added to Random and Clements as the doors closed: “Basically, that is.”

Random looked at Clements. “Is he usually as shitty as this early in the morning?”

“
No, usually at the end of the day,” said Clements and he and Malone shook hands on the cliché.

“I hope by the end of
this
day,” said Random, “all our troubles are over.”

“For you, maybe,” said Malone. “We still have to find who killed the maid. She keeps being overlooked.”

They rode up to Magee's floor, got out of the lift to be greeted by a young uniformed officer standing outside the apartment's closed front door.

“Anyone in there?” asked Random. “The strike force guys?”

“No, sir. They've come and gone. They were here at six. Mr. Magee didn't exactly welcome them.”

“Neither would I,” said Random. “But don't quote me.”

Magee, hair in a pony tail, dressed in pyjamas and a silk dressing-gown, was having breakfast with Kylie Doolan, Caroline Magee and Sheryl Dallen. The latter, fully dressed, rose as the senior detectives came into the apartment. She was in charge, but the other three were unaware of, or ignoring, the fact.

“Paula Decker has gone off, sir. Miss Doolan's sister and brother-in-law left half an hour ago.” She looked at Malone as if to tell him it was time she, too, left. She looked tired and fed up. “The strike force officers questioned Mr. Magee for almost an hour.”

“I've had questioning up to here,” said Magee without rising from the table.

“I'm sure you have,” said Random.

“Who are you, anyway?” Magee was making no effort to be polite. Malone felt Clements, beside him, stiffen and he waited for the big man to smear Magee's face with the poached eggs he was eating. Something he would have applauded.

“I'm Chief Superintendent Random, in charge of the force that's been trying to find you.”

“You weren't too successful, were you?”

“Pull your head in, Errol,” said Caroline.

On
the surface Random looked unperturbed by Magee's rudeness. “The men who were here earlier would have questioned you about the kidnapping. Inspector Malone and Sergeant Clements are here to question you about the murder of your maid.”

“I know nothing about that! I told those other guys—”

“Take it easy,” said Caroline.

“Mind your own business!” snapped Kylie and in the background Sheryl rolled her eyes at Clements, who grinned.

“Mr. Magee,” said Random, “could we talk to you in another room? It won't take long.”

Magee looked as if he were about to refuse; he had a piece of toast halfway to his mouth, his fork sliced into the poached egg. Then he put down the toast and the fork and stood up. Kylie, too, stood up. “I'll come with you, darling—”

“No,” said Random and for the first time since coming into the apartment his voice had iron in it. “Sergeant Clements will talk to you ladies out here. Mr. Magee?”

Magee led them into a small study off the main bedroom. Through the open bedroom door Malone could see the rumpled bed and he wondered who had slept with Magee last night. Or maybe Magee, if he were sensible, had slept alone.

The room was too small; the three men were close together. Magee sat in a chair at the small desk against one wall; Random sat in the only other chair. Malone found a place for his bum on the desk, hard up against a computer. Which, he noted, now had a blank screen. Magee, it seemed, was not yet interested in the world he had once occupied, that cyberspace out there full of strangers you were asked to trust.

“Look, I was shocked when they told me last night about Juanita—”

“We accept that, Mr. Magee. But the people who kidnapped you—”

“Jesus, do I have to go through it all again?” There was no mistaking his fatigue.

“Inspector Malone would prefer it. Were the kidnappers vicious towards you? Did they threaten to kill you?”

“
I don't know if they were threats, I mean real threats. I got on pretty well with the guy I saw most. Well, I didn't exactly see him. He wore a hood all the time, a blue hood. So did the other two, the two women. Yeah, and there was a second guy, I think. He sorta disappeared.”

“Two women?” said Malone.

“Yeah. They seemed to be mother and daughter. They called the older one Mum.” Malone tried to hide his grin, but Magee caught it. “Yeah, I know, that was what I thought. Kidnapped by a gang run by Mum.”

“There was a famous outlaw gang in America run by a mum, Ma Barker,” said Random. “The worst Mafia gang in Naples is run by a mum. It happens, Mr. Magee. Where did they hold you? You got any idea?”

Magee had had time to think about it; he was still tired, but his mind had begun to click like a computer. One that had a virus in it somewhere, but which still worked: “The first night and the second day we were in the bush somewhere. I don't know where, it sounded as if it was pretty isolated. Then when they moved me, I was in the boot of a car, I dunno, we must've travelled for about an hour. We stopped somewhere along the way and pulled off what sounded like a main highway. I was pretty groggy, I couldn't breathe in the hood they'd pulled over my head. I dimly remember being pulled out of the boot of the car and being dumped in another one. I must've passed out, because the next thing I remember, I was in a bedroom in a house in the suburbs, I'd say. I could hear the occasional car and every so often a plane would go over. So I couldn't have been too far from the airport.”

Malone was listening intently. “What happened last night?”

Magee was more cooperative now, his bad temper seemed to have evaporated. “They said they were going to let me go, that things had become too complicated. The old lady, Mum, she didn't seem to think it was a good idea. Letting me go, I mean. They put me into a car, they blindfolded and gagged me.” He felt around his mouth, which was still sore. “The guy who spent most of the time with me, he and the girl dropped me near some park, I think it could've been in Arncliffe, I dunno much about out there—”

Out there
, thought Malone. Maybe ten kilometres from the heart of the city. He makes it sound
like
the Far West, out there where the rabbits and kangaroos roam. Just east of Tibooburra . . .

“I was in a main road when I got a cab—the driver said it was Rocky Point Road, I've never heard of it—”

Malone felt the computer against his back. Buried in its hard disk were roads and streets all over the world. But not Rocky Point Road . . .

“Did they ever mention the maid?” asked Random.

Magee shook his head. “Look, I don't think they could've been the ones who did it. The guy spent most of the time with me, we got on well. I mean, after a while I began to
like
him. The girl, too. I don't think they were killers.”

“Mr. Magee,” said Random, “killers come in all shapes and sizes and temperaments. Inspector Malone and I have had too much experience of them. You said they wore hoods all the time. You saw only half of what they might truly be like.”

“No.” Magee shook his head again. “I think—I'm
sure
I'm right about the guy and the girl. The other guy, the one who disappeared—I dunno about him. Or the mum. I just, y'know, I just don't believe they were killers.”

“
Someone
killed your maid,” said Malone.

“Yeah, I know.” He felt some guilt about that; or something. Juanita had been a stranger to him; not because of her, but because of
him
. The circle of which he was the centre had always been small; he had slept with women who had been strangers, even though they were on first-name terms. He would never have missed Juanita if she had suddenly departed, though he had not expected her to depart in the way she had. “Look, your guys who were here earlier, they mentioned the
yakuza
. Kylie told me about ‘em, too. Could they have killed Juanita?”

Random looked at Malone, who shrugged. “Maybe. But my money's on the kidnappers. Errol, what was the woman like, the mother?”

“Christ, I dunno. How do you describe a woman who's got a bag over her head all the time?”

“Don't tempt me,” said Random, and the three men laughed, allies for the moment, all blokey.

“
I'd say she was maybe in her forties—I'm not good at women's ages.”

“Join the club,” said Malone, keeping Magee at ease, seeing he was now more ready to cooperate.

“Slim and—and
brisk
, I guess is the word.
Organized
. She ran the show. I remember thinking she'd have made a good office manager.”

“There was no older man? A father?”

“Never saw one. The young guy gave me a jersey to wear, a Souths' one. It's outside somewhere. He said his old man played for Souths years ago, but he could've been bullshitting me.”

“Did they talk to you about Kunishima Bank?” asked Random.

“They said they'd called the bank and got nowhere.” Magee made no attempt to hide his bitterness.

“We've had a negotiator sitting with them and one at I-Saw, but there were no more calls after we put them in place. Just the original two calls, the one to I-Saw and the one to the bank. I think your kidnappers were rank amateurs, Mr. Magee.”

Magee thought a moment, then nodded. “You could be right.”

“When they stopped calling was when things must've started going arse-up,” said Malone. “I wonder what went wrong and why?”

Magee shook his head. “I can't tell you. The guy used to talk to me, he, I dunno, he sounded depressed. I didn't think anything of it at the time—”

“I wonder,” said Random, “if the kidnappers found out the
yakuza
were looking for you?”

Random's tone, as usual was dry and soft. He shovels dust, thought Malone, better than anyone I know. You could be gasping for breath . . .

Magee was gasping. “Kylie told me—I thought the guy was, whoever he was—”

“Tajiri,” said Malone. “He told her his name was Ikura, but we know it was Tajiri. He works for Kunishima.”

“Jesus, I know him! Well, no, not
know
him—but I met him! A coupla times, no more. He just
sat
in on a conference with Okada, the Kunishima boss, and some other guy—”

“Nakasone.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Nakasone—” He took another deep breath. “They're really after me? To kill me?”

“I gather,” said Malone, soft and dry as Random. “Unless you tell ‘em where the forty million dollars are.”