Fallout Read online

  ‘Hello there, this is Ann Smellie.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again. Not that I’m complaining.’

  ‘I should hope not. I hear you and our mutual acquaintance got on like a house on fire.’

  ‘I don’t know about that but, yeah, he’s an interesting guy. You could say charming in his own way.’

  ‘You could and he does,’ she said. ‘I wish I had a hundred dollars for every time I’ve heard him say it.’

  ‘I assume you’re still in touch?’ said Van Roon. ‘I only ask because he tried to tell me he’d have to call it off with you because of me. I didn’t believe him. In fact, I told Ihaka it was probably the only thing he said I flat-out didn’t believe.’

  ‘If I didn’t know better,’ she said, ‘I’d think there was a compliment lurking in there somewhere.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought you could miss it.’

  ‘It’s just as well we’re getting along because we need to meet,’ she said. ‘I have a message from you know who. He insists I deliver it in person.’

  ‘Good for him.’

  ‘How are you placed today?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I’m coming down to stay with some friends in Wairarapa. There’s a place in Carterton, on the main drag, called Café Mirabelle. It’s on the left if you’re heading north. Can you be there at twelve thirty?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Then we have a date.’

  Van Roon lay there staring at the ceiling. If he couldn’t get out of bed for Ann Smellie, he never would. He threw off the covers.

  Beatrice the supervisor spotted Tito Ihaka crossing the foyer. She caught up with him in the corridor. ‘Tina’s ex is over from Sydney. As I said the other day, we don’t intrude on family time.’

  ‘This is a murder investigation,’ said Ihaka. ‘They intrude on whatever they like.’

  He knocked on Tina Best’s door and went in. She was sitting in the armchair by the window. Roger Best had dragged the other chair across the room so they were sitting knee to knee. He had a full head of white hair, none of it out of place, and wore a navy-blue blazer with a red silk tie and matching breast-pocket handkerchief, dark-grey trousers and black brogues. Ihaka’s instant impression was that Best didn’t mind what he saw in the mirror.

  Before Best could complain about the interruption, Tina said almost gaily, ‘Well, speak of the devil. We were just talking about you, Sergeant. This is my ex-husband, Roger.’

  Ihaka stuck out his hand. ‘Detective Sergeant Ihaka. We spoke on the phone.’

  ‘Of course.’ Best’s handshake was as perfunctory as his eye contact. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  ‘Roger’s not very good at pretending,’ said Tina. ‘He’s not really pleased to see you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Tina,’ said Best huffily. ‘I was just hoping for a little privacy.’

  ‘But you rushed over from Sydney when you heard the police had been to see me,’ she said. ‘And just now you were telling me I had to be very careful what I said to them.’

  ‘Now you’re being a naughty girl,’ said Best. The baby talk and pasted-on smile didn’t soften the reprimand. ‘I said nothing of the sort. I was just trying to remind you, as I’ve often had to do, that you can be your own worst enemy.’ He turned to Ihaka. ‘I’m afraid Tina’s memory’s not too good and she has a tendency to, shall we say, be rather creative when filling in the gaps.’

  Tina’s face fell. She turned away, staring out the window at the pruned rose bushes and leaf-strewn lawn.

  ‘Is it Tina you’re trying to protect,’ said Ihaka, ‘or your son?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Best ponderously. He took off his spectacles, applied the handkerchief and put them back on. Going by his expression, the view hadn’t improved. ‘What on earth is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means your son’s a suspect in the Polly Stenson case.’ Ihaka glanced at Tina. Her eyes were bright, mind beams burning off the dreamy haze.

  Best had gone red in the face. ‘That’s insane.’

  ‘We have reason to believe he was at the scene of the crime around the time the crime took place,’ said Ihaka. ‘If you tick both those boxes and don’t come forward, you’re a suspect in anyone’s language. I get the feeling you two can shed more light on this than you’ve done so far. Now would be a good time.’

  ‘This is a travesty,’ fumed Best. ‘I refuse to be a party to it.’ He rounded on his ex-wife. ‘Surely you haven’t forgotten your role in this affair and the solemn undertakings you gave. If you go back on your word, that’s the end of it. I’ll wash my hands of you.’

  ‘It ended a long time ago, Roger,’ she said calmly. ‘And if it wasn’t for this affair, as you call it, you would’ve washed your hands of me then.’

  She resumed looking out the window. Best glared at her, his clenched fists vibrating. Ihaka sensed a history of violence.

  ‘Damn you.’ Anger clogged Best’s voice. ‘Damn you to hell.’ He waved his arms at Ihaka, a rich old man feeling his control slip away. ‘What lies has she told you?’

  ‘None that I know of,’ said Ihaka. ‘But then she hasn’t really said anything about that night. And all she’s told me about your son is that he’s kept busy down on the farm.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ said Best.

  ‘I don’t give a shit,’ said Ihaka.

  Tina’s snort of amusement coloured Best’s cheeks like a slap. ‘You’re a disgrace,’ he raged. ‘You were a disgrace as a wife, now you’re a disgrace as a mother.’ To Ihaka: ‘I’m off to see my lawyer. You’re going to find you’ve bitten off a lot more than you can chew.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before,’ said Ihaka. ‘People keep under-estimating my capacity.’

  Best left, slamming the door behind him. Ihaka sat in the vacated chair. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ said Tina.

  ‘I need your son’s address.’

  ‘I can never remember it, but it’s in the address book on the bedside table. Under J for James.’

  Ihaka jotted down the address, then went back to the chair. ‘That wasn’t strictly true what I said. About you not telling me anything. The story about your mother and brother and the stepladder wasn’t really about them, was it? It was about you and James. And that photograph you gave me, how old were you then?’

  ‘Seventeen.’

  ‘The same age Polly was. James killed her, didn’t he?’

  Tina nodded.

  ‘Thinking she was someone else?’

  Tina closed her eyes and leaned back, her expression almost serene. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Lucy Barton told him you were upstairs with Johnny. He went up there crazy drunk looking for you, wanting to hurt you. He bumped into Polly in the dark and strangled her, thinking she was you.’

  ‘James didn’t really believe Lucy,’ she said. ‘But then he found Roger outside, in tears, with vomit down his shirt. Roger told him it was all true. By the time James got upstairs, I’d already gone back down.’

  ‘Polly would’ve waited for you to leave, would’ve been coming out as James came in. She probably walked right into him. When did you find out?’

  ‘The next morning. When we heard about Polly, James told Roger what he’d done. Roger said it was my fault. He said we’d both committed sins but mine was worse because it made James do what he did. We couldn’t bring her back, so it was our duty as parents to protect our son. He made me promise never to breathe a word.’ She gripped Ihaka’s arm. ‘They weren’t the same. I know I did a dreadful thing but James took that poor girl’s life.’ She released Ihaka’s arm and sat back. ‘And he meant to take mine. That didn’t seem to trouble Roger.’

  Ihaka stood up. ‘Are you going to be all right?’

  She nodded. ‘I feel better now. I’ve paid my debt
.’

  When Ihaka looked back at her from the doorway, she said, ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For hearing what I couldn’t say.’

  Ihaka nodded. ‘Thank you for wanting to be heard.’

  On his way out Ihaka stopped by Beatrice’s office to tell her that on no account should Tina’s ex-husband or son be allowed anywhere near her. Then he rang Central to organise uniformed protection for Tina and arrange for detectives from Hamilton to bring in James Best. Then he rang Finbar McGrail.

  A few minutes after Van Roon was seated at a corner table, Eddie Brightside walked into Café Mirabelle. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and was wearing a baseball cap and aviator-style dark glasses even though he’d come in out of the rain. He peeled off the sunglasses and looked down at Van Roon with his wiseguy smile. ‘How’re you doing?’

  ‘So-so.’

  ‘Well, let’s see if we can do something about that. Although I realise I’m behind the eight ball on account of being me, as opposed to the divine Ms S.’

  Van Roon shrugged. ‘When it comes to women, I’m nothing if not a realist.’

  ‘It pays in the long run,’ said Brightside. ‘Ever had cassoulet?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of. What is it?’

  ‘A French peasant dish — bit of duck, bit of pork, bit of sausage, a shitload of beans. The version here’s a little peppery for my taste, but you won’t find it in too many other places in Aotearoa.’

  ‘I’ll give it a go,’ said Van Roon, getting to his feet.

  ‘You stay there,’ said Brightside. ‘This is on me. A glass of Rosé de Provence to wash it down?’

  ‘Why not?’

  Brightside went to the counter to order, returning with a bottle of rosé and two wine glasses. After he’d poured and they’d raised glasses, he said, ‘How goes the investigation?’

  ‘No idea. I told Ihaka you didn’t do it. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, so I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.’

  ‘Well, that’s a good note on which to get down to business: I have a proposition for you.’

  ‘Great,’ said Van Roon. ‘I could do with one.’

  Even though the other diners were several tables away and not paying them any attention, Brightside leaned forward lowering his voice. ‘You know Gerry Waitz has a house not far from here?’ Van Roon nodded. ‘In that house is a safe. Waitz would regard it as a secret safe, but he’d be labouring under a misapprehension because I know where it is and how to get into it. Waitz being paranoid, the safe is chock-full of rainy-day money — cash, uncut diamonds, bearer bonds. I propose that you and I gain access to that safe and help ourselves.’

  ‘Why do you need me?’

  ‘I’ll get to that. Based on what I observed unbeknownst to Waitz — admittedly it was quite a while ago, but the leopard won’t have changed his spots — there could be a mill five, maybe two mill. Your share would be one third.’

  ‘And what would I have to do for that?’

  ‘Terminate the son of a bitch.’ Van Roon’s expression made Brightside chuckle. ‘Did you think I’d cut you in for that sort of dough to hold my coat? No such thing as a free lunch, buddy.’

  Their meals arrived. Brightside peered at his boeuf bourguignon, exchanging rapid-fire French with the proprietor. When the proprietor withdrew, Van Roon hissed, ‘Why don’t you kill him?’

  Brightside ate, nodding approval. ‘Tried it once, didn’t agree with me.’

  ‘Good answer.’

  ‘You, on the other hand . . .’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Some people aren’t that bothered by it. That’s just the way they’re wired. I have the feeling you’re one of those people, and I have good instincts in these matters.’

  ‘Let’s leave my wiring and your instincts out of it, shall we?’ said Van Roon. Now that the shock of the second part of Brightside’s proposition had worn off, deflation was setting in. He should’ve known it was too good to be true. ‘Why do you want him dead?’

  ‘Remember me telling you I disappeared because I figured Waitz might try to get rid of me? The truth is, I knew for damn certain he wanted to get rid of me. Fortunately, the first guy he offered the gig to, an old CIA hand, owed me one. So then Waitz put out a contract: bring me the head of Eddie Brightside. I had to disappear; I had no goddamn choice in the matter. And he’s still after me — that’s why his proxies hired you to find me. As long as Gerry Waitz is above ground, I have to stay out of sight — and I’ve had a gutsful of it. It’s time to kick it in the head.’

  ‘And get rich in the process?’

  ‘The way I see it,’ said Brightside, ‘Waitz owes me for twenty-seven years of elaborate, expensive and inconvenient security measures and the stress of having to constantly watch my back. I regard it as fair and reasonable compensation. Besides, it’s no good to him where he’s going.’

  ‘I see a major problem in terms of my involvement,’ said Van Roon. ‘In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s insurmountable.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ said Brightside. ‘What is it?’

  ‘The money trail. The minute I come into money I can’t account for, my ex-employer is going to be all over me like a rash.’

  Brightside poured himself another glass of wine. ‘You had me worried for a moment there. The third part of my proposition is that you become my organisation’s New Zealand representative. We’ll set you up with a home office, meaning you can get out of that shithole into somewhere decent, and you can do as much or as little actual work as you want. Who knows, you might even enjoy it. If not, your contract, which I have in my backpack, contains a clause stating that in the event that we pull the plug on the New Zealand operation, you’ll receive an extremely generous pay-out. So the timing is up to you: a year from now you could have your full share, all shipshape and above board. Of course you’ll have to pay tax on it, but you can’t have it both ways.’

  ‘So you’ll take everything in the safe and drip-feed me my share in the form of a salary?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘How will you get it out of the country?’

  ‘You let me worry about that,’ said Brightside. ‘I’ve been moving money around the world for donkey’s years.’

  ‘Well, you’ve solved one problem,’ said Van Roon, ‘and I have to admit that’s a nifty solution, only to raise another.’ Brightside smiled as if he knew where this was going. ‘Waitz is dead; I’m here with nothing to show for it; you’re off in the wild blue yonder with all the money. What’s to stop you deciding to keep it all? And what could I do about it if you did?’

  ‘There’s no guarantee I can give you that gets around that,’ said Brightside. ‘But frankly, Johan, if we’re going to do this thing, there has to be some mutual trust. Ann will be joining me in the wild blue yonder, but first she’s got to sell her cottages. That’ll take a few weeks, possibly months, and I wouldn’t dream of exposing her to risk by welshing on the deal.’

  Van Roon stared. ‘What risk? What do you think I am?’

  Brightside shrugged unapologetically. ‘I think you’re someone who wouldn’t take kindly to being shafted. Hell, as fastidious as I am, if I was in your shoes under those circumstances, I’d be out for blood. And, as I said, I have the sense you don’t share my fastidiousness.’

  ‘OK. I assume that once it’s done, you’ll be off in a cloud of dust, whereas I’m not going anywhere. That being the case, I’m wondering what you’ve got planned to steer the investigation in some direction other than mine?’

  ‘How’s the cassoulet?’

  ‘Different.’

  ‘Not too peppery?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want it any more peppery.’

  ‘Yeah, I see you’ve got a bit of a glow on. What you mean is, a compelling theory?’
r />   ‘What I have in mind,’ said Van Roon, ‘is a theory that’s so fucking compelling the investigators won’t feel the need to pursue other lines of enquiry with any great vigour.’

  Brightside grinned. ‘Great minds think alike. I’ve been planning this for a long time. Believe me, I’ve got my ducks in a row. Waitz’s demise will be big news in the States. It’ll also trigger a spate of revelations about his shady business dealings with various shady characters, the sort of guys who don’t phone their lawyers when the other party doesn’t live up to their side of the bargain, if you get my drift. The compelling theory will be that Waitz stiffed one of his shady associates whose response was to send a pro down here to put him out of business permanently. The beauty of it is that the more the media digs into Waitz’s business activities, the more potentially shady shit they’ll come across. And if the working premise is that it was a hit initiated in some faraway place, there’s not a hell of a lot your former colleagues can do except accumulate air points.’

  ‘That sort of guy would have some pretty serious security, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘He would,’ said Brightside, ‘and when he’s most other places in the world, Waitz does. But he feels completely safe here. That’s why he comes here, to get away from all that shit. And bear in mind the picture of Waitz that emerges post-mortem won’t be entirely accurate: there’ll be hype, embellishments, false trails. But a man could spend a fair while establishing that. Hopefully assorted assholes here and elsewhere will.’

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ said Van Roon.

  ‘As I said, years in the planning.’

  ‘So what’s the time frame?’

  ‘It goes down tomorrow night.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘The day after tomorrow Waitz flies out to Europe,’ said Brightside. ‘He won’t be back for months. Tomorrow is his annual open day when he lets the public take a nosy around his house and grounds for a couple of hours. There’s no way he’ll be sticking around to meet and greet the rubes — he’ll go for a drive or play golf or something. I’ll take the tour and find a hiding place — I know that house very well. Around six a chef from one of the vineyard restaurants will arrive to prepare dinner. He or she will be gone by seven thirty at the latest. After dinner Waitz will settle down with a Cuban cigar and a bottle of five-hundred buck cognac to watch Fox News or porn, depending on his mood. At nine I’ll let you in the back door and we’ll get to it. I don’t know what Waitz has got lined up in Europe, but there’s a pretty good chance the alarm won’t be raised till after the weekend, or maybe not even till his property manager checks the place in a week or so.’