The Easy Sin. Jon Cleary

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      ‘You come up with anything?’ said Kagal.

      ‘Nothing that’s going to help us much. But I could write you a character profile on Mr Magee and Miss Doolan. They’re the original designer junkies, I think. The closets are full of designer labels. Alex Perry dresses, Blahnik shoes, Gucci handbags –’

      ‘What about him?’

      ‘Versace, Armani –’

      Malone, who wouldn’t have gone beyond K-Mart if allowed by his wife and daughters, who was a life member of Fletcher Jones and Gowings, thought labels, especially if worn on the outside, were like birdshit, something that should be scrubbed off.

      ‘Spare me the details. Where does the money come from?’ He looked around the apartment.

      Kagal looked at him as if he had just arrived from the upper reaches of New Guinea. ‘Scobie, Magee is I-Saw. I-Saw, for Crissakes.’

      ‘Eyesore?’

      Kagal spelled it out for him: I-S-A-W. Don’t you ever read the BizCom pages in the papers? They have all the cute names, they’re like twelve-year-old kids –’

      ‘I’m not interested in BizCom or Information Technology, whatever you want to call it. I’m still getting used to faxes instead of telegrams –’ He stopped at the look on Kagal’s and Norma Nickles’ faces. ‘Righto, I’m joking. But no, I don’t know who or what I-Saw is.’

      Kagal didn’t quite take him by the hand; but almost: I-Saw was started by Magee three or four years ago. It’s a software programme for lawyers, worldwide. It’s supposed to be, or anyway claimed to be, streets ahead of anything else in that field. It made Magee a millionaire, a multi-millionaire, almost overnight. On paper, that is – which is where most of these smart guys were, to begin with. I-Saw has started to go wrong over the last two or three months. It’s got cases against it, geeks charging Magee pinched some of their programmes and adapted them –’

      ‘What’s wrong with that?’ asked Norma, who had seen more larceny in ballet than any choreographer cared to admit.

      Kagal looked at his boss. ‘Is that the sort of principles they teach in Physical Evidence?’

      ‘All the time,’ said Malone and gave Norma a smile to show he didn’t mean it. ‘Go on.’

      ‘I-Saw is on the point of going into receivership. I’d say that is one of the reasons Magee is giving up his lease on this –’ He nodded around them. ‘And why Miss Doolan sacked the maid this morning.’

      Malone gave the matter some thought. ‘So Mr Magee could’ve done a bunk, put those kidnap notes on the computer as some sort of joke against our girlfriend?’

      ‘And killed the maid on the way out?’ asked Norma, still practical-minded. ‘Why?’

      Malone knew it was a weak argument: ‘Maybe he had a barney with her and thumped her with the saucepan. Any prints on it?’

      ‘No. And I don’t buy that argument.’

      I’m losing the reins here, thought Malone; and said, ‘Neither do I. You think of a better one?’

      Said Kagal, also practical-minded: ‘Why would he be wearing gloves in his own apartment? I mean if he put the messages on the computers as some sort of dirty joke against his girlfriend? Or did he put on gloves to pick up the saucepan to scone the maid?’

      Malone sighed. ‘You practical-minded buggers make me tired. Why don’t you have a little Celtic imagination?’

      ‘I once lived with an Irish ballet dancer.’ Norma shook her head at the horrible memory. ‘He’d get out of bed after sex to riverdance. All stiff arms and ratatatat with his feet.’

      ‘Riverdancing in bare feet?’ said Malone. ‘You’re kidding us. Righto, we put out an ASM on Magee, let The Rocks do it. We’ll see what comes after that.’

      He went back into the living room as a woman came in the open front door and was halted by one of the uniformed men.

      ‘Yes?’ said Malone.

      The woman looked around at all those who were staring at her. ‘What’s going on?’

      ‘Who are you?’ asked Malone.

      ‘Caroline Magee.’

      ‘A relative? His sister?’

      ‘No,’ said Caroline Magee. ‘His wife.’

      There was a gurgling sound from Kylie Doolan, like the last of the bathwater going down the plughole.

      4

      ‘We split up six years ago, in London,’ said Caroline Magee.

      ‘You’re English?’ asked Malone.

      ‘No.’ But the vowels had been rounded, she would never sing ‘Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport’. ‘We met there, were married for two years. I’m from Coonabarabran.’

      Bush country: but she had brushed off the bindi-eyes and the paddock dust and the slow country drawl. She was a dark auburn version of Kylie Doolan, just a little sleeker, more sophisticated looking. But her eyes were large and frank, if still puzzled.

      Malone had explained to her what had happened in the apartment. She had listened without comment, then just shaken her head. Whether in disbelief or expectation, it was hard to guess. But she did not crumble.

      ‘Have you been in touch with your husband lately?’

      ‘Yes, over the past couple of months.’

      ‘Shit!’ said Kylie Doolan.

      Up till now neither woman had spoken to each other; indeed, Caroline Magee had hardly looked at Kylie Doolan. Malone, wiser than he played in the ways of women, had held off introducing the two till he saw how far the wife would undermine the girlfriend. He had learned a lot from an observant wife and two sharp-eyed daughters. A cop, he had also learned, could surround himself with less helpful company.

      Caroline Magee looked at Kylie. ‘And you are the girlfriend?’ She made girlfriend sound like bimbo. The rounded vowels had spikes, like deep-sea mines.

      Paula Decker and John Kagal sat silent; they had seen this before, but it was always worth attention. Women at odds with each other are more interesting than men in the same situation. There is more subtlety; or there was in this case. These two had been in training, though neither had known of the other.

      ‘Yes. We’ve been together quite a while. Here.’ Kylie looked around, staking out her claim, even though the lease had been cancelled. In, it seemed, more ways than one. ‘He never mentioned you.’

      ‘That’d be Errol. He always played things close to his flat little chest. Or has he put on weight?’

      ‘You don’t sound as if СКАЧАТЬ