On Gary’s orders, Detective Alice White went to the doorway between the waiting and interview room and called out, ‘Nick Pecorino.’
As Nick seated himself in the interview room, Gary saw that Nick was looking far less at ease this morning than he had the previous night. Nick was a small man, about 60 kilos and 160 centimetres in height. He had a full head of jet-black hair and an olive complexion. Gary wondered if some of Nick’s black hair came from a bottle. It didn’t look natural.
After Detective White had established Nick’s full name, address, and contact details, Gary began the interview. ‘Thank you for making yourself available for the interview, Mr Pecorino. I understand it was you who first discovered the head.’
‘Yes, I was the one who first lifted the cloche from the platter and saw the head.’
‘We need confirmation that the head is that of Leong Chew. Are you willing to come down to headquarters in Wakefield Street after this interview to identify the head?’
‘I suppose I could, but I wonder if Jonathan Riddle might not be the best person to do that, given their close relationship.’
‘I plan to ask Jonathan as well, and it would be nice to get a blood relative, too. But I would prefer you both identify the head so we can inform the relatives with certainty.’
‘Well, you may have trouble finding a relative. Both of Leong’s parents are dead, and I understand he has a sister, but she is living in Brisbane. I couldn’t even tell you her name. All I know is that Leong is originally from Singapore. He moved here in his twenties, mainly because he was gay, and I understand they still lock you up for that in Singapore, even today. Leong often told stories about how, when he left Singapore forty years ago, he was in fear of his life if he was found out. Leong claimed gay men were often found drowned in the Singapore River. I told him I didn’t think Adelaide was much better.’
Gary immediately thought of the celebrated 1972 case of the murder of Adelaide University law lecturer George Duncan, drowned after police officers threw him and his lover, Roger James, into the River Torrens for making love openly on its banks. The case had had an interesting twist, with future convicted child killer and suspected serial killer Bevan Spencer von Einem being the one to find Roger James crawling along the road late that night with a broken ankle. George Duncan hadn’t been so lucky.
Gary was jolted from his thoughts by Nick saying, ‘You will have to ask Jonathan—he will know more and have a contact number for his sister.’
Gary moved on. ‘When did you last see Leong alive?’
‘Last night at about a quarter to twelve. We had finished dinner, and the waiting staff were doing the final clearing of the plates. The other chefs had already left for the night. They left just after you, actually, once the ford was down. Rebecca had already gone to bed. After you left, she lost all interest in the rest of us.’
Gary blushed, and Detectives Alice White and Kym Lee gave him a quick look. Gary had already told White and Lee of his presence at the dinner the night before and that he was therefore one of the last to see the deceased alive. He also had given them his alibi. One of his mates from the State Emergency Services had spent the night with him to help out if the temporary tarpaulin they had erected over the roof didn’t hold. The SES mate had left at about seven o’clock, just before Rebecca had turned up on his doorstep. Alice had already confirmed the alibi.
Nick went on. ‘After you left and Rebecca went to bed, Leong declared he would retire, as he had an early start the next day. I followed him out into the hallway to thank him for the effort he had put into the dinner—and to also tell him not to worry about the seafood entrée and blow it out of all proportion. I said some words of reassurance, but he still appeared agitated. He then left me, presumably to go to his room, and I returned to the dining room to say my goodnights, and then I too went to bed. The next morning, I had breakfast with Rebecca, Jonathan, Dorothy, and Francois. I then left for Jolley’s with Jonathan just before ten.’
‘You said he was agitated. What do you mean by that? Was he more agitated than he should have been over the cayenne-pepper incident? Do you know if something else was worrying him?’
‘Well, he certainly had reason to be agitated. A ruined course in front of influential diners, including his main rival, Francois Bacone, was a disaster for him. However, I know he had more than just some spoiled food worrying him. His restaurant, Chewie’s, is not going well. The place has been half empty even on Friday and Saturday nights. There used to be a three-month waiting list at Chewie’s—now Francois Bacone and his Le Petit Choux Choux have taken over that mantle. I’m sure Leong was having money problems, and he was jealous of Francois. The new bull taking over from the old. Yes, he did have lots of other things worrying him.’
‘But do you think he would have taken his own life?’
Nick Pecorino gave Gary a puzzled look. ‘I thought this is murder. How in the hell could he have killed himself and ended up with his head on a platter?’
‘I agree—on the face of it, it does look like murder, and it may well be, but we can’t rule out the possibility that he committed suicide, and then someone found the body and decided to cut off his head, cook it, and put it on a platter to be found at a media event. The motive could be anything. Someone wanting to embarrass the Australian Food Festival, perhaps?’
Nick stared at Gary. ‘Do you think that is what happened?’
‘I don’t know, but do you think Leong was in a state of mind that he could take his own life?’
‘Who knows?’ replied Nick, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. ‘He certainly wasn’t a happy man and had lots of problems, but killing yourself is pretty extreme.’
‘What about his boyfriend, Jonathan Riddle? Did Jonathan go to bed at the same time as Leong last night? Were they sharing a room?’
‘Well, he was supposed to,’ replied Nick. ‘But when I left Jonathan, he was asleep at the table, and I didn’t attempt to move him. I doubt whether anyone else did. He certainly didn’t appear capable of going anywhere by himself.’
‘How long have Jonathan and Leong been together?’
‘Oh, about three years.’
‘They didn’t seem to be getting on too well last night. How would you describe their relationship?’
‘Volatile. Last night’s antics were normal for them. They are—um, were—always fighting.’
Gary’s final question was open ended. ‘Is there anything else you can think of that we ought to know? Any enemies that Leong had who would want to see him dead? Or anything unusual you heard or saw last night after you went to bed that, in retrospect, could be significant?’
Nick Pecorino paused for a while. Finally he said, ‘No. I didn’t hear anything. I slept soundly. As for enemies, well, I’m sure Leong had his share. Francois was no ally. But the jealousy and animosity were more on Leong’s side than Francois’s. Leong wasn’t a pleasant man. He was rude to his staff and to most people.’ Nick paused again for a moment, as if remembering something, and then said, ‘And he did sack Will Oliver—his under chef, or sous chef—last night after that cayenne-pepper incident. But then again, he was always firing staff and then taking them back on again, as not too many would put up with him. Leong found it hard to get and retain good staff.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gary. ‘If you can think of anything else, here’s my card.’
After Nick Pecorino left the room, Gary turned to Detective Lee and said, ‘I want you to check out Leong’s will—see who benefits from his money and assets, whatever he had left. And seize the restaurant’s books, files, and computer. I want to know exactly what state the business was in, and I’ll need a list of all the staff that were on duty last night and this morning. They will all have to be questioned.’
Detective Alice White frowned. ‘Inspector, Nick Pecorino doesn’t have an alibi.’
‘I doubt whether any of them staying at Wattle House last night have an alibi unless they were shacked up with someone. Any one of the
m could have killed Leong in the middle of the night and disposed of his body and been back in time for breakfast.’
Gary’s mind wandered to Rebecca. He wouldn’t have minded being Rebecca’s alibi last night. He continued, ‘We need to see Jonathan Riddle next. Can you get him, please?’
Jonathan sat at the cherrywood table with a vague, faraway look. His eyes were puffy and red. Gary had heard Jonathan’s story the night before. Before the row between him and Leong, Jonathan had told Gary all about how he came from old Adelaide money and that he had been schooled at St Peter’s College, one of the top private boys’ schools in Adelaide. It was an enormously rich school set in thirty-two hectares of prime land just a kilometre from the heart of the city. Gary had even played cricket on one of the school’s seven ovals. While Jonathan had bragged about the three Nobel laureate alumni of the school, in Gary’s assessment he was more of an eccentric than an academic.
Jonathan sat opposite Gary, wearing his old cricket blazer with vertical royal-blue-and-white stripes, in keeping with the colour theme of the day. Gary noticed that the matching school cricket jumper was grubby and pulled tight over a bulging stomach. Gary made a quick calculation and guessed the blazer and jumper to be about thirty-five years old.
Hoping to ease into the interview with Jonathan, Gary gently asked, ‘How long have you known Leong Chew?’
Jonathan took in a deep breath. ‘I’ve known him as an acquaintance for over twenty years, but we didn’t become an item until Christmas 2011. We used to bump into each other at various parties around town. With me being in the food industry as well and with us both being gay, we moved in similar circles.’
‘What do you do in the food industry?’
‘Oh, I’m headwaiter. A professional waiter. Not like these uni students who do it part-time, mostly under sufferance because they have to pay the rent. I love serving people. I just have a knack for knowing what people need before they know it themselves. I love those who are passionate about food, and Leong was the best.’ Jonathan broke off, sobbing.
Detective White moved the box of tissues, already strategically placed on the table, closer to Jonathan. Jonathan pulled out about ten tissues, in what seemed to Gary to be a series of overly dramatic flourishes, before blowing his nose hard and then sipping delicately on a glass of water.
‘Go on,’ Gary said.
‘Well, I came to work for him just over three years ago, a few months before we became romantically linked. Leong was looking for a headwaiter, and I was his man. I had been attracted to him for some time, but we were both with other partners, so nothing ever came of it. Just after I came to work for Leong, I broke up with my fella. Leong had broken up with his about two months earlier. Leong was still a bit of a mess. Charles left him for Les Girls in Sydney. He cleared out while Leong was at work and just left a short note saying, “Au revoir, remember me fondly. Charmaine.”
‘Anyway, one night just before Christmas, I invited Leong over to my place for drinks with a few of my chorister friends at my traditional Christmas recital. He fell in love with me because of my organ.’
Gary’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean, he fell in love with your organ?’
Jonathan gave a wicked smile. ‘I have an 1837 Joseph and Claude-Ignace Callinet pipe organ in my North Adelaide villa. I had to get builders to raise the roof to fit it in. The renovations cost me almost as much as the organ. I was a senior organ scholar at Cambridge in my youth, playing at King’s College Chapel as part of my scholarship. Since I returned from Cambridge, I have played the organ for Handel’s Messiah at St Peter’s Cathedral every Christmas. After the Messiah is out of the way, I always have a small gathering at my house. I do my own mini version of the Messiah with a heavy emphasis on the “Hallelujah Chorus” and a few other favourites, such as “Angels from the Realms of Glory” or “Beautiful Bethlehem Bells”. It was in the middle of “Beautiful Bethlehem Bells” that I looked over to Leong and knew he was mine. Simple as that.’
‘Right,’ said Gary. He thought he probably had enough context. ‘I now have to ask you some specific questions about the last twenty-four hours. When did you last see Leong?’
‘It was last night at dinner. As you know, I imbibed rather heavily and didn’t make it to bed. I fell asleep at the table. I don’t even remember eating dessert.’
‘When did you wake up?’
‘I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t wake up until six thirty. I heard the mantel clock chime in the dining room and sat up and saw what time it was. After I realised where I was, I became angry that no one, particularly Leong, had even bothered to help me to bed. Everyone just left me there like a piece of leftover pudding. My neck was stiff as a board. I wasn’t very happy.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I went to our bedroom, Leong’s and my bedroom, but he had already packed his bags and left. I knew he had an early start. But I have to be honest and say I didn’t care that I had missed saying goodbye to him, as I was angry at him leaving me facedown at the dining table. But by breakfast I was over it. I don’t stay angry for long. It’s not in my nature.’
‘Why didn’t you go with him or plan to go with him that morning? As headwaiter, I would have thought he needed you to be part of the program launch and help him set up.’
‘I did help him. My job is front of house and making guests feel comfortable. I arrived at Jolley’s Boathouse and Popeye in plenty of time to do my professional duty—in fact, earlier than I had initially planned. It is always different at a publicity event anyway. You aren’t dealing with sit-down meals—it is just finger food and drinks. I was there in enough time to brief the staff on how the program launch would run and what we needed to do. Besides which, I and a couple of staff did a lot of prep yesterday, decorating the boat, setting everything up at Jolley’s Boathouse, readying it to go down to the boat this morning.’
‘Were you worried that Leong wasn’t there when you arrived this morning?’
‘Of course I was worried. I tried calling his mobile. I called it at least a dozen times. But it just kept going to message bank. I knew he was not in a good frame of mind because of his business and money problems. I had offered to lend him some money, but he said he didn’t want to be beholden to me. He said he had another plan.’
‘What sort of plan?’
‘I don’t know exactly. Perhaps he thought his spring menu would turn things around. He was very secretive in the last couple of months. I was cranky with him about it. It was one of the reasons we weren’t getting on as well as we normally do, and I was worried.’
‘Do you think he might have harmed himself?’
‘Well, yes, I was thinking he might have done something silly. I thought he might have finally cracked. You see, Leong never acted unprofessionally. His restaurant was never closed during normal operating hours. No matter how sick, how tired, Leong delivered. I thought, even if he hasn’t harmed himself, not showing up meant he was in a bad way. Coupled with his secretive behaviour, yes, I fear he may have harmed himself.’
‘Do you have any idea about where he may have gone? Favourite haunts, places he escapes to?’
‘Well, I do have a place at Carrickalinga. It’s a beach shack my mother left me when she died. Leong loved going there.’
Gary was familiar with Carrickalinga. It was home to no more than two or three streets of mostly old-fashioned shacks adjacent to one of the most beautiful beaches in Australia. The shacks were mainly owned by old Adelaide money, although a bit of new money was creeping in, much to the chagrin of the long-timers. Gary often played the golf course just up the road from Carrickalinga, called Links Lady Bay. Indeed, he was planning to play a round at Lady Bay in a couple of weeks, but at this rate he would probably have to cancel.
Gary nodded to Detective Lee. ‘Check out the beach house. See if you can find any evidence of Leong having been there in the past twenty-four hours.’ Gary was confident this wasn’t a suicide with a n
asty twist by some sadist. It felt like murder to him. ‘That will do for now, Jonathan. We need to take your DNA samples and fingerprints.’
‘Am I a suspect?’ Jonathan gasped.
‘Everyone is a suspect at this stage of the investigation. Nothing personal.’
‘Nothing personal? What could get more personal than being a suspect in the murder of my lover?’ Jonathan was getting shrill.
‘Settle down, Jonathan—you know what I mean. We can’t rule anything in or out at this stage. I suggest after the samples are taken you go home and get some rest. We will be in touch.’ Gary thought better of asking Jonathan to identify the head.
With that, Gary stood and instructed Detective White to escort Jonathan Riddle from the room and to bring in Francois Bacone for questioning.
Francois was a tall, slim, well-groomed man in his early thirties. He spoke with a French accent that Gary imagined women, and some men, would swoon over. True to Gary’s style of trying to relax the witness—and in this case, a suspect—he asked him how long he had been in Australia and what brought him here.
‘I backpacked around Australia about ten year ago, fresh out of Ferrandi, the top chef-training school in Paris. I had just finished my apprenticeship under the great Alain Ducasse in his restaurant, Benoit. I fell in love with your beautiful country and especially Adelaide with its food and wine culture so strong. Its freshness and freedom enchanted me. I did not return to France, and last year I became an Australian citizen. This country has given me so many opportunities. If I had stayed in Paris, I would probably still be Alain’s sous chef, julienning carrots.’
‘So you are doing well then?’
‘Oui, I am, how do you say, raking it in. My restaurant, Le Petit Choux Choux, is booked out for months. I am in discussions with my business partners about other ventures. The times are very exciting for me.’
The Popeye Murder Page 5