The Easy Sin (24 page)

“Why?”

“His work was unsatisfactory.”

“What did you say? Give it to me expurgated.”

“I was very restrained. But Mr. Okada was even more restrained. I've met deaf-and-dumb crims who gave out more than he did.”

“Did you see Nakasone?”

“No. Okada was the only one to front. I asked if Tajiri had been terminated because he was
yakuza
and Okada didn't blink. He said, no, Mr. Tajiri had been allowed to go because he was unsatisfactory. I asked what sort of work he'd done and he said Tajiri had been the director of human resources. I laughed when he said that—I always laugh when I hear it—and he gave me a nice smile. But that was all he gave.”

“They've recruited two of the girls from I-Saw. Did he tell you that?”

“No, he volunteered nothing. I did ask him if Kunishima would want their forty million back before the I-Saw shareholders got their cut, if any.”

“What did he say? You being a shareholder.”

“He said, unfortunately—that was the word he used,
unfortunately
—unfortunately that was not the way business worked. The bank had to look after
its
shareholders.”

“The
yakuza
?”

“
He didn't say that and I didn't ask.”

“I admire your restraint.”

“Thank you,” said Clements, with his middle finger raised. “Changing the subject, the morgue is releasing the Magee maid's body tomorrow. She's being buried tomorrow afternoon.”

“Who by?”

“A coupla sisters have arrived from the Philippines. And Mr. Todorov has arranged everything. He's sending the bill to I-Saw.”

“It'll be put with all the other bills . . . How are things with Romy?” “She's taking me to dinner tonight. Says I can't afford to take her.” “They know how to twist the knife, don't they? Good luck.”

Clements went out to the big main room, Malone began gardening the paperwork on his desk and half an hour later Sheryl brought in Daniela Bonicelli and Louise Cobcroft.

“Ladies—” He rose from behind his desk, glad of the interruption. Lisa didn't need to know, but good-looking women were a better distraction than shoals of paper.

“We're not happy,” said Daniela, no longer the coquette of the other night, “bringing us in like this. What's going on?”

“Take a seat.” Malone gestured at the two seats opposite him. He had decided not to use the interview room with its accusing eye of the video recorder; these women were not suspects. Or he hoped not. He nodded to Sheryl to take her place on the couch under the window. “We're only interested in your welfare.”

“I'm too ladylike to say it,” said Daniela, “but you know what I think of that remark.”

“You ladylike, too, Louise?”

“I'll wait till I hear what you have to say.”

Both women today were in black, the business colour at the turn of the century. Daniela was in a suit with a pink shirt, Louise in a slacks suit with a cream shirt. Each had a shoulder-strap handbag that looked as if it could carry all the arsenal of business. Louise also carried a thin laptop. But no bottles of
spring
water and not a mobile in sight . . .

“You've already started at Kunishima?”

“No,” said Louise. “Tomorrow.”

Malone leaned back in his chair, looked at Sheryl, then back at the two women. “Daniela, Louise—have another think about what you're getting into. Kunishima aren't taking you on because they're short of staff or because they want your wizardry on computers. You're bait to get Errol, Mr. Magee, to come out of hiding.”

The two women looked at each other, smiled, shook their heads. Then Daniela said, “You're crazy. Errol doesn't have the slightest interest in us, he couldn't care less, the bastard. And if he's been kidnapped, why would his kidnappers, whoever they are, worry about Louise and me?”

“You know Kylie Doolan was kidnapped?”

“Yes—” Both women sat up a little straighter. Then Louise said, “I thought it was her own stunt—”

“No, it was no stunt. She's back home, we've interviewed her. She was kidnapped by a man named Tajiri who, up till yesterday, so the bank says, was the director of human resources at Kunishima. Director of human resources, presumably, meant he was in charge of kidnapping.”

“You're a card, Inspector—”

“No, Daniela, I'm dead serious. A senior executive from Kunishima kidnapped her, threatened her, then eventually let her go when she convinced him she didn't know where Mr. Magee was. Mr. Tajiri, the director of human resources, is a
yakuza
, a gangster. We have an ASM out on him.”

“ASM?”

“All Stations Message. We'll pick him up. If he hadn't kidnapped Miss Doolan, he'd still be at Kunishima and you'd be working for him. You'd be willing to risk that?”

Daniela frowned, looked less confident now. “The
yakuza
? You're sure?”

“You've heard about the
yakuza
?”'

She nodded. “One of our Japanese clients, a big firm of lawyers, we found out they did a lot of
business
for the
yakuza
.”

“What happened?”

“Jared, Mr. Cragg, and I discussed it, then we took it to Errol.”

“And what did he say?”

“What we expected. He said I-Saw was in the IT business, not the morality business. We just went ahead supplying them.”

Malone looked at Sheryl. “Wouldn't you like to have Mr. Magee in here for a few minutes?” Then he looked back at Daniela and Louise. “How much have Kunishima offered you to go to work for them?”

“Enough,” said Daniela after a glance at Louise. “They asked what we got at I-Saw and they matched it.”

Malone looked back at Sheryl. “We're in the wrong game.”

It was her turn to take up the bowling: that was what he was telling her: “Louise, Daniela—when you were sleeping with Errol—”

Daniela's eyebrows went up in question of Louise: “You, too?”

Louise nodded. “Off and on. We all knew about you—”

“Thanks,” said Daniela and looked prim and insulted.

“Did he ever mention anything about retiring?” Sheryl said. “Going overseas to live?”

“Daydreaming?” Louise shook her head. “Errol never daydreamed, all he was ever thinking about was the next day. Why?”

“We're trying to trace the forty million he stole. Not us at Homicide—the strike force that's looking for him. He would have transferred the money electronically. To some secret account overseas—he could never hide that much money in this country. There would have been a password—” She glanced from one woman to the other. “Did he ever have a secret word with either of you? The way some—some lovers do?”

Malone tried to remain impassive, as if heard this sort of talk every day. What secret words had
Sheryl
exchanged on a pillow?

Daniela looked at Louise again, as if
they
might have been lovers with secret words. Then she turned back to Malone, who kept his face straight. Then finally back to Sheryl.

“Yes, I guess there were some. But not words you'd put on a computer.”

“Like on a porno website? Errol and I never used that sort of stuff,” said Louise and tried to look virtuous.

Suddenly Malone laughed; he couldn't help himself. “Righto, girls. Let's say Errol never gave you a hint of what he was doing or where he was sending the money. But was Kunishima going to have you playing code-breakers?”

“I don't know.” Louise was now beginning to look dubious. She had been holding the laptop on her knees, but now she put it down, as if it, too, might contain secrets she didn't want to know. Malone wondered what was on the hard disks in it, but he wasn't going to bother asking. “I think they may just have wanted to keep an eye on us. Mr. Nakasone told me he knew I'd had a—a relationship with Errol. I thought we'd kept it pretty—well, discreet. Unlike you,” she told Daniela.

“I was never sneaky about it—”

“Ladies—” said Malone warningly. He wanted these two women on side; he didn't know when he might need them. “Did either of you ever handle any money transfers for Errol? To overseas banks?”

“We were never in finance,” said Daniela as if that was a foreign country. “I did programs for legal firms. Here and overseas.”

“I was the ideas programmer,” said Louise. “Dreaming up new stuff. I worked with Jared Cragg most of the time.”

Malone took his time, then said, “Don't go to work for Kunishima.”

Daniela gave him a hard stare. “You're asking us to give up top money when jobs in our business are getting scarcer and scarcer.”

Malone waited for Louise to say her bit: “Are you trying to scare us, Inspector?”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

“
I'd listen to him,” said Sheryl, bowling from the other end.

“Unless you'd like to take the risk and work as a mole for us.” Malone saw Sheryl glance at him at that; but he wasn't trying to recruit Daniela and Louise, just frighten them. “Would you?”

“No,” they said in the one voice.

“Good. Tell Kunishima you've decided not to take the jobs. Tell ‘em you decided that on our advice.”

Both women looked dubious again; Daniela said, “I don't know—”

“Daniela, we're not playing games.” But he was, of course: on Okada and Nakasone and Tajiri, if he was still around. “Errol's maid was murdered, Miss Doolan was kidnapped, we have no idea where Errol himself is or if he's still alive—”

“We'll tell them,” said Louise, picked up her laptop and stood up.

Daniela hesitated, then stood up. “Give my love to Tom. He's a nice guy, he'll go a long way.”

In bed or in business
? “I'll tell him. Take care, both of you.”

Sheryl escorted them out through the main security door and he watched them go, seeing them even after they had gone. Two women of the new millennium: emancipated, confident, well paid. Yet still vulnerable to the danger that had beset their mothers and their grandmothers. Men . . .

“What am I thinking?” he said aloud.

“I dunno,” said Sheryl back in his doorway. “What are you thinking?”

He retreated behind a grin and a shake of his head.

8

I

“CHANTELLE—”

“Mum—” said Caroline Magee. “My name is Caroline, not Chantelle. When I first started work at the stockbrokers in London and said my name was Chantelle they thought I was a stripper for the Christmas party. The women there had names like Philippa and Rosemary and Diana—there were three Dianas, all blondes. So I became Caroline and said Chantelle was a family joke.”

“I always liked Chantelle,” said Darlene.

“You can have it, then. If you and I had been twins she'd have called us Charlene and Darlene and asked Glen Campbell to write a song for us. ‘Rhinestone Cowgirls' or something.”

“I'd of sung you to sleep with it,” said Shirlee, glad to have her eldest back with her, even if she was not the girl who had left here eight, no, nine years ago.

The three of them were in a coffee lounge in the Westfield shopping mall in Hurstville. Store windows blazed with big signs: SALE! 50% OFF! EVERYTHING MUST GO! One or two store assistants stood glumly in doorways, like store dummies also for sale. The economy had slowed, everyone was caught in the sludge. But not Shirlee, Darlene and Caroline. The ordinary flowed around them, if sluggishly; they themselves looked ordinary. Three neatly dressed women, one a little smarter than the other two, finishing off a day out.

A young waitress, a Turk or Afghan, obviously new to her job and grateful for it, appeared beside them. Caroline said, “A
café au lait
.”

“?”

“
Caffe latte
. Three,” said Shirlee and waited till the young girl had gone. “Bloody foreigners.
Why
can't they all speak English?”

“Wash your mouth out,” said Darlene wearily. “Bloody foreigners. You wanna get us run outa here?”

“Your father knew how to deal with ‘em. He held up only Lebanese and Greek service stations—”

“You ever hear from him?” said Caroline.

Darlene looked at her. “She never told you?”

“Told me what? Dad and I never got on, but I wrote him once. I don't know, maybe three or four years ago. He never answered.”

“He couldn't,” said Darlene. “She'd poisoned him.”

“She'd
what
?”

“We don't have to bring it up now.” Shirlee had taken out her vanity mirror, was checking her hair was neat. “We've got other things to talk about.”

Caroline leaned forward, kept her voice low. “Mum—you poisoned Dad? By accident?”

“No. He had it coming to him.” Shirlee put away her mirror, snapped her handbag shut, waited till the young waitress brought their coffee and then went away. “He was too much trouble, always
in
trouble—”

“And you don't think we're in trouble now?” Caroline sat back, all her poise suddenly gone. She looked at her sister. “How did you let it happen? Jesus,
killing
him!”

“I didn't know about it till it was all over. Only Corey and Pheeny knew.”

Three Muslim women and three young children came in and with some fuss arranged themselves at a nearby table. The young waitress approached them, there were smiles all round and she took their orders in a tongue that brought a sniff from Shirlee. Darlene smiled and wriggled her fingers at the children, all of whom smiled back, one foot on the road to being true-blue Aussies.

“Where is he?” said Caroline. “Dad?”

“They buried him in the timber up behind the house at Minnamurra.” Darlene sipped her
coffee,
added more sugar. “Their coffee here isn't as good as that other place further down. I said we should of gone there.”