Autumn Maze. Jon Cleary
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Название: Autumn Maze

Автор: Jon Cleary

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Приключения: прочее

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isbn: 9780007554195

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СКАЧАТЬ to see a body, we had a meeting and decided that if anything like that happened again, nobody was to stand in the way. Frank was a sensible man, he wouldn’t have put any value on a corpse, not to the extent of trying to hang on to it. No, whoever it was shot him in cold blood. They didn’t put any value on a living body.’

      ‘They must’ve put some value on the corpse they stole?’ Up till now Clements had sat silent; sometimes Malone had the feeling that the big man saw Romy as his superior. Which was wrong: in his own way Russ Clements was as competent, or more than that, as Romy.

      ‘We won’t know till we find out who they stole.’

      Malone raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t know?’

      ‘It was a male, unknown,’ said Romy. ‘Middle-aged, Mediterranean look, no identification at all on him. He’d worn two rings, one on his left wedding finger, the other on his right little finger. They’d been pulled off, the skin was scraped on the little finger. His clothes are in a bag outside, but I gather they’ll tell you nothing.’

      ‘All good stuff,’ said Clements, ‘but off the rack. It could of been bought anywhere.’

      ‘Where was the body found?’

      ‘In a park by Cook’s River, out at Canterbury. Some kid and his girlfriend found him last night, about eight p.m. They called the locals, the Campsie D’s are in charge of it.’

      ‘So why are we in on it? Have they asked for us?’ Local police protected their turf jealously.

      ‘Not so far. But whoever took the body, took all the records of it.’

      ‘They even wiped out all our data on the computer,’ said Romy. ‘Whoever it was knew their way around a morgue. But they forgot one thing. The cops who picked up the body still have their notes. I called them earlier.’

      ‘Could it have been an inside job?’

      Romy shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I don’t think anyone here would have killed Frank Minto.’

      Malone looked at Clements. The big man was still uncharacteristically quiet, his attention more on Romy than on Malone. Had they had a row, were together now only because of their work? ‘Russ? Rust?

      Clements gathered himself together. ‘I’ll start questioning the staff, but like Romy says, I don’t think it’s an inside job. Too obvious. You asked me why we’re in on this. Tell him, hon.’

      Romy smiled at him, as if she enjoyed being called hon, even on duty. But there was something wrong with the smile, a wryness that took the affection out of it. Then she looked back at Malone.

      ‘There was a note in Frank’s pocket, a scribble addressed to me. Frank took his job more seriously than it looked – he was thinking of studying pathology, though I don’t think he really had the education for it. Anyhow, he would often do a more thorough examination of a body than just checking it in.’

      ‘What did his note say?’

      ‘He found a puncture at the base of the skull of the body that’s missing. This morning I did an autopsy, a preliminary one, on a body that came in last night about two hours before the other was brought in. He was supposed to have jumped or been pushed off a balcony twenty storeys up – the body was a mess. But I think he was dead before they tossed him off the balcony. There was a puncture at the base of his skull, too. It’s a subtle way of killing, but it would have to be done by someone who had some medical knowledge. You flex the head forward as far as it will go, then you push a broad needle or a thin scalpel into what we call the atlas, the first cervical vertebra. That’s what they did to Mr Sweden and, from Frank’s note, I’d say the same was done to our unknown male from Canterbury.’

      ‘Who is Mr Sweden?’ Malone asked Clements, all at once wondering if the big man and Romy were playing some sick joke on him. ‘Not our —’

      ‘That’s why I called you in. No, he’s not our new Police Minister. He’s Derek’s son.’

      Malone swore under his breath; he belonged to a dying school that didn’t swear in front of women. Even some of the hookers he knew respected him for it, since they met few gentlemen in bed or the back seat of a car, even a Mercedes.

      ‘I think I’ll go on sick leave.’

      1

      As they walked out into the still-warm day some dark clouds were boiling in from the south-east; a few fat drops of rain caught the sun as they fell, turning the air into a thin gold mesh. A van came down the street and turned into the morgue’s loading dock: another delivery, another death. Two women stood talking at the gate of a house on the opposite side of the road, but neither of them gave the van a glance.

      Malone said, ‘It’s none of my business, but have you and Romy had a row?’

      ‘Not exactly,’ said Clements. ‘It was just – well, she told me this morning she’s ready for marriage.’

      ‘She proposed to you? Amongst the stiffs?’

      ‘Well, no, not exactly. We weren’t in where they keep the bodies. We were in the murder room, but it was empty.’

      ‘What did you tell her?’

      ‘Nothing so far. I was still digesting it when you walked in.’

      ‘That’s why you looked like a stunned mullet. It’s about time you made up your mind, son. You’ve been going with her, what, two years now? You’re never going to get anyone as good as her.’

      ‘It was just a bit sudden.’

      ‘Sudden? Two bloody years, you’re up to your eyeballs in love with her and it’s sudden when she tells you she’d like to get married? How long are you going to wait? Till the two of you are laid out side by side on trolleys back in there?’ He nodded over his shoulder.

      ‘You’re starting to sound like a real bloody matchmaker.’

      ‘Wait till I tell Lisa, then you’ll find out what a real bloody matchmaker is. Righto, where do we go from here? You dragged me away from a day with Tom, I hope you’ve got something organized?’

      ‘All right, don’t get snarly just because I don’t wanna be hasty about getting married. You got your car? I caught a cab up here, a Wog who wanted to take me via Parramatta till I showed him my badge. Then he said the ride was on him.’ He grinned; sometimes he relished his prejudices. ‘I think we should go down and have a look at the scene of the crime.’

      ‘Which scene?’

      ‘The one down at The Wharf. You’d rather go there than out to Canterbury, wouldn’t you?’

      ‘The Wharf? You mean this bloke Sweden, the son, had an apartment there?’

      ‘No, it’s his father’s and his stepmother’s. She’s one of the Bruna sisters.’

      ‘You’re ahead of me.’ Malone led the way towards the family car, the nine-year-old Holden Commodore. Lisa and the children were pressing him to buy СКАЧАТЬ