Domino Island

by Desmond Bagley

  I leaned forward. ‘What is it to you who gets in power here?’

  ‘Commitments,’ he said. ‘Mutual obligations.’ His voice was hard. ‘When does your contract run out?’

  ‘About eight months. Why?’

  ‘Time enough,’ he said. ‘In eight months all this will have blown over. No newspaper will listen to you then. What editor likes an eight-month-old story? Don’t expect your contract to be renewed.’

  There it was, the flat threat. ‘So do I stay?’ I asked.

  He grunted. ‘Please yourself.’

  I said, ‘The story might get out anyway. I’m surprised it hasn’t already. There’s a smart man called Jackson at the Chronicle.’

  ‘Jackson is gagged.’

  A cool voice behind us said, ‘Who gagged him?’

  We both turned round. Jill Salton was standing half-hidden by some shrubbery. I don’t think either of us knew how long she had been there or how much she had heard. She came forward and said to Hosmer, ‘If Mr Kemp needs a job in eight months’ time, I’m sure he’ll be welcome in one of my group of companies. He has impressed me very much.’

  Hosmer was quicker than I to recover. ‘You know nothing about him.’

  ‘I know enough to trust him more than I trust you,’ she said cuttingly. ‘That wasn’t a pretty conversation I heard. And don’t think I knew nothing of the pressure you were putting on David. He told me everything, all about your tie-in with Cardew Street, your attempted bribes disguised as business deals, your threats to withdraw the loan from Salton Estates.’

  ‘Jill, you don’t understand about business,’ he said. ‘Whatever David told you, he must have misunderstood.’

  Her voice was as cold as ice and hard as a diamond. ‘You are not welcome in this house,’ she said. ‘There will be a car to take you to San Martin.’ She turned on her heel and walked away.

  I thought Hosmer would have a heart attack. His face turned a blotchy mixture of white and pink and a vein throbbed heavily in his temple. The cigar dropped from his fingers and lay disregarded on the paving, sending up a thin stream of light blue smoke. He stared at nothing for a long time and then began to lever himself out of the chair, pushing himself up with trembling arms. Suddenly he was a very old man.

  He ignored me completely. I watched him walk slowly away and somehow felt sorry for the old bastard. If I had been spoken to with such utter contempt as there had been in Jill Salton’s voice, I’d have been able to walk under a snake’s belly wearing a top hat. If there was one thing she could do, it was to cut a man down to size. Aristocratically.

  When he had gone, I sat in sheer wonder at the unasked-for display of feminine chivalry. Dame Jill Salton galloping to the rescue with lance poised and sharpened to kill was something I hadn’t expected, and I didn’t know whether I cared for it very much. Not because I was too proud to have assistance in fighting my battles, but because I would soon be asking her questions on behalf of Hanna – questions cunningly designed to find out whether or not she had killed her husband. I didn’t seriously believe she had: all the evidence indicated otherwise, and her rage at Hosmer on behalf of her husband had been utterly convincing. But, as Hanna had said, police routine means going by the book and all the questions must be asked. And answered.

  I stooped and picked up Hosmer’s cigar and laid it gently in the ashtray, being careful not to break the ash.

  III

  John said gravely, ‘Mrs Salton will see you now, sir.’

  I had been waiting on the patio for nearly an hour, making lists of people and what they’d said, and matching one conversation with another. It was what I had tried to do the previous evening before my brains went mushy. My brains were in better condition on that bright morning but the result was the same. I got nowhere. So I was happy to follow John into the same room where I had first met Mrs Salton.

  Her face was pale and I thought she must have been crying. She said unsmilingly, ‘Sit down, Bill. I’m sorry about that little scene.’

  I sat down. ‘Don’t be sorry on my account.’

  ‘I meant what I said about the job. You’d be very welcome.’

  ‘I might take you up on it, if necessary. How much of the conversation did you hear?’

  ‘Nearly all of it, I think. He’s an evil and vicious old man, Bill. You’ve made a dangerous enemy. He won’t extend your contract.’ She folded her hands in her lap. ‘Hadn’t you better tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘Before I do that I’d like to ask you a couple of questions just to get things straight in my own mind. Was that true, what you said to Hosmer about the pressure he put on your husband?’

  ‘He never liked David,’ she said. ‘Remember I told you my family was against the marriage? He was the one who caused most of the trouble.’

  ‘You’ll get more trouble from him now,’ I said. ‘He’ll call in the loan on Salton Estates.’

  ‘The contract is cast iron and if he tries to fight it I can employ as many lawyers as he can. If I lose I can stand it.’

  Forty million dollars makes a comfortable cushion. I could stop worrying about the future of Jill Salton. ‘Why did you go to New York so suddenly?’ I asked.

  ‘To see David’s sister. Something came up about the estate that she was worried about. What of it?’

  I grinned. ‘I think you had Superintendent Hanna a little worried. I suspect he was wondering if you were going to come back.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I don’t see why he should.’ She stopped and drew in her breath.

  ‘Precisely,’ I said. ‘He’s still investigating your husband’s death.’

  ‘Commissioner Barstow told me the case was closed.’

  ‘Barstow may think he runs Hanna. Hanna has other views.’ I leaned forward. ‘Jill, the air needs clearing. An important question has come up and only you can answer it. What did you and your husband quarrel about on the day he went missing?’

  ‘Am I under suspicion?’ she said in a thin voice.

  ‘In a case like this, nobody is above suspicion.’

  ‘My God!’ She stood up and paced the room. ‘All I have to do is call Barstow and Hanna will be put firmly in his place.’

  ‘That would look really iffy,’ I observed. ‘You do that, and Hanna will definitely believe you have something to hide. Have you, Jill?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Then why all the fuss? Just a simple answer to a simple question will get Hanna off your back.’

  She said primly, ‘I refuse to parade my private life before the world.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be doing that. Coppers can keep secrets.’ I thought about that and added, ‘So can insurance investigators.’ I watched her stalk angrily up and down the room. ‘Let me try to make it easier for you. Was it about Leotta Tomsson?’

  She stopped in mid-pace and whirled around to face me. ‘What do you know about her?’

  ‘She was your husband’s mistress. When did you find out?’

  Her face was white. ‘I didn’t – not really. Just suspicions.’

  ‘Hanna knew eighteen months ago,’ I said. ‘As I told you, coppers can keep secrets. Was she the cause of the quarrel?’

  Jill nodded miserably. ‘I was stupid. I tackled him about it before I had any real proof. He never lied to me, so he admitted it. But he said he’d broken with her, that he hadn’t seen her for six months. I told him I didn’t believe him.’

  ‘Even though he never lied to you?’

  ‘What was his mistress but a constant, unexpressed lie?’ cried Jill passionately.

  ‘It so happens he was telling the truth.’ In a sad, sad way, I thought. ‘They didn’t see each other in the last six months.’

  She sank into a chair and her face was now paper white so that a dusting of freckles stood out against her skin. She looked bleakly into the past and her hand went nervously to her mouth as she breathed, ‘My God!’

  ‘You’ll have to talk to Hanna,’ I said.

  ‘I can
’t do that. David mustn’t be dragged down.’

  ‘He’s dead, Jill,’ I said gently. ‘It won’t matter to him now.’

  ‘It will to his name, to his reputation.’

  My recent run-in with Hosmer had reminded me of the power of reputation, but this was different. ‘It’s too late, Jill. David’s political opponents already know. This thing must be cleared up once and for all, especially after what happened to Owen Ogilvie.’

  She looked at me blankly. ‘What about Ogilvie?’

  ‘Don’t you know? He was killed – murdered – just after he left Negrini’s casino.’

  She closed her eyes and I thought she was going to faint. ‘Oh, that poor young man,’ she whispered. ‘He showed me a picture of his wife and child in his wallet. He was so proud of them.’ She opened her eyes. ‘Why was he killed?’

  ‘Because he was going about asking questions about how David Salton died.’

  Her hands were trembling. ‘It could have happened to you, Bill.’

  ‘It nearly did,’ I said grimly. ‘They had a go at me yesterday afternoon.’ I told her about it.

  ‘But why?’ she said helplessly. ‘What was it about David’s death?’ She stood up again and walked to the window. ‘You’re right. This business must be cleared up. I’ll talk to Hanna.’ She paused uncertainly. ‘It gives me a motive, doesn’t it? It makes me a suspect. Hell hath no fury …’ Her voice tailed away.

  ‘You can’t be suspected of Ogilvie’s death,’ I said. ‘You were with me when he was attacked. And the two go together – they must. You weren’t even in the country when they took a crack at me.’ Uneasily I wondered how many murders could be commissioned with forty million dollars. As I said before, suspicion is corrosive.

  John came into the room, walking cat-footed. ‘You are wanted on the telephone, sir.’

  ‘Thanks.’ That could only be Hanna. I excused myself to Jill and followed John to the telephone. He was learning fast: he hadn’t brought along a portable to be plugged in.

  He handed me the receiver and went away, stiff-backed. One thing he hadn’t learned was to like me. ‘Kemp here.’

  ‘This is McKittrick. I’d like to see you, Mr Kemp.’

  I was surprised. ‘How did you know where to find me?’

  ‘Does it matter? It’s important that I see you.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘As soon as possible.’

  ‘Where?’

  There was a pause for thought before he said, ‘Remember the field I was planting with corn? I’ll see you there. It’s close to my home.’

  ‘I’d still like to know how you found me.’

  ‘You haven’t exactly been hiding,’ he said.

  Neither had I been broadcasting my movements to all and sundry. Only Hanna and the copper on the motorcycle knew where I was. And Lord Hosmer. And Jill Salton. And … ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Give me an hour.’

  I put down the telephone and went in search of John, who was polishing silver in a pantry next to the kitchen. He rose to his feet as soon as he saw me. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Do you listen to every telephone call in this house?’ I asked bluntly.

  Not a muscle in his seamed face moved but there was an almost imperceptible widening of the eyes. ‘Sir?’ he said, apparently in surprise.

  ‘The last time I was here I had a private telephone call during which I discussed certain theoretical matters with a Mr Ogilvie. The next day rumours of that discussion were all over this bloody island and Ogilvie was dead.’

  John’s face turned an unhealthy grey and he swayed on his feet. The polishing cloth dropped from his fingers. ‘Dead?’

  ‘Dead. And I was nearly dead, but I was lucky. Did you just tell McKittrick I was here?’

  He leaned on the table. ‘Excuse me, sir.’ He eased himself shakily into the chair, looked uncomprehendingly at the fork he was holding, and then dropped it with a clatter.

  I raised my voice. ‘Did you tell McKittrick?’

  He was stricken. He lifted his head and his lower lip trembled. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it, sir. I was just passing on a message.’

  ‘Was it to McKittrick?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Right, let me get this straight. You told Dr McKittrick the details of my telephone call with Mr Ogilvie? Is that right?’ He nodded tremulously. ‘There were riots in San Martin the next day,’ I said. ‘People were hurt because of that. All because of your meddling.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that to happen.’

  ‘What I don’t understand is why you did it. Why tell McKittrick?’

  ‘He’s my grandson,’ said John simply.

  IV

  McKittrick was waiting by the roadside, the field behind him all neat and tidy. As I pulled the car to a halt, he stepped forward and then stopped to look back along the road. I glanced into the mirror and saw the copper on the motorcycle come to a halt, the regulation two hundred yards behind. Dust rose in the hot air.

  McKittrick bent down and said through the window, ‘Why did you bring him?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ I said. ‘He’s fastened to the back of the car with an invisible length of rope. Whither I go, he goeth. I suppose he’s some kind of bodyguard.’

  ‘Do you need one?’

  ‘Superintendent Hanna seems to think so. Someone took a shot at me yesterday. Gave me a real pain in the neck.’

  McKittrick looked back at the motorcycle. He seemed worried. ‘Let’s go to my place,’ he said, and opened the door. He settled in the seat and I set off. ‘Who would want to kill you?’

  I looked sideways at him. ‘Don’t you know?’

  He jerked. ‘How would I know?’

  ‘You’ve got a hell of a lot to answer for,’ I said. ‘I’ve just had a fast talk with your grandfather. Jesus, when I talked to you the other day I thought you were all right. Now I don’t know if you’re a damned fool or a raving maniac.’

  He was silent, then he said, ‘Turn right here.’ I wheeled the car around the corner and checked the mirror to see if Old Faithful was still with me. He was. McKittrick said, ‘It’s Joe Hawke – he’s pushing hard.’

  ‘Why don’t you leave him?’

  ‘Where would I go? Join Conyers and his mob?’ He sounded sick.

  ‘You could always go back to the Liberals. Now Salton is dead they need leadership.’

  ‘I left them once. I doubt if they’d have me back. I’ve been thinking over what you said. Salton was right and I was wrong.’ He shook his head. ‘But it’s too late now.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Better men than you have turned their coats twice. Churchill did it, went from the Conservatives to the Liberals and back to the Conservatives again to become leader of the party.’ I smiled grimly. ‘He said that anyone can rat once, but it takes a man to rat twice.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ His tone was unconvincing.

  I said, ‘Whoever set up that political demonstration was looking for trouble. The police were waiting.’

  ‘That’s Joe,’ said McKittrick. ‘He’s trying to make as much political capital out of Salton’s death as he can. After the inquest things cooled down but when you came, he saw the chance to stoke the fire again. There was another riot today.’

  ‘For God’s sake, why did you pass on your grandfather’s message to Hawke? Leaving aside the ethics of it, it was a bloody foolish thing to do if you really feel as you say you do.’

  ‘Joe was there when the call came through. I saw no reason not to tell him. He went off like a fire cracker.’ McKittrick pointed ahead. ‘That’s the house.’

  It was not very large but neat and of modern design. When we got out of the car McKittrick said, ‘I’m still living in a Salton Estates house too, and that doesn’t make me feel any better.’

  I thought that McKittrick needed a swift kick in the pants to bring him out of his self-abasement, but I didn’t say anything. We went into the house and he introduced me to his wife, a pret
ty young woman called Lena. She said, ‘Make yourself at home, Mr Kemp. Would you like a cold beer?’

  ‘That would be very nice.’

  She went away and I looked around the room. It was well furnished but did not reek of money, as a lot of other rooms had that I’d visited recently. There were a lot of books. My gaze returned to McKittrick, who was slumped in an armchair. ‘What do you want to see me about?’

  His voice was low. ‘Later.’

  I sat down and Lena came back with glasses and cans of beer on a metal tray. As she put it down, I noticed four glasses on the tray. My confusion was shortlived: Joe Hawke came out of the kitchen, a thunderous frown on his face. ‘What did you bring the fuzz for? And that’s a cop car you’re driving.’

  ‘Hertz and Avis have got competition,’ I said. ‘Would you believe the Campanillan Police Force?’

  ‘Don’t crack wise, peckerwood.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ I said. ‘I’ll talk English if you will. That phoney lingo makes my ears hurt.’

  He grinned and the twinkle returned to his eyes. ‘Someone’s been talking out of school. Could it have been my friend Superintendent Hanna?’ His voice was now cool and well-modulated eastern States. He handed me a glass and a can of beer. ‘All right, we’ve had our fun, so let’s get down to business. That cop outside – what’s he there for?’

  ‘To see that I come to no harm.’

  ‘It figures,’ Hawke said to McKittrick. ‘Someone tried to shoot Kemp yesterday.’

  That was curious: McKittrick hadn’t known but Hawke did. I made a mental note to tell Hanna that Hawke might have a pipeline into his department. ‘They didn’t try,’ I said. ‘They succeeded. I can still feel the pain. Any idea who it was, Joe?’

  ‘No. I put out the word but got no answer.’ He filled his glass carefully. ‘What did you think of Leotta Tomsson?’

  ‘Nice girl.’

  ‘That all?’

  ‘What else is there?’

  Hawke laughed shortly. ‘Cagey, aren’t you?’

  ‘It’s just that I’m not on your side,’ I said, and tasted the beer. It was cold and bitter on the tongue.