Дональд Уэстлейк - Forever and a Death

By now, Fairchild was smiling. “I suppose it is,” he said. “Put it that way, and I do see what you mean. And if it weren’t for Captain Zhang’s suicide, I would be most inclined to think of Ms. Baldur as a young woman with far too much imagination. But here we have it. Captain Zhang. Why did he kill himself? You profess not to know. Would you like to hear Ms. Baldur’s theory?”

“I’d love to,” Curtis said, “though I have the feeling I should be eating popcorn while listening to it.”

Fairchild acknowledged that with the thinnest of smiles, and said, “She is convinced you wanted her dead, in order to tie up Planetwatch in the courts. She believes you wanted Captain Zhang to do the job, but that when he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, you arranged to have men intercept the ship, and ordered Captain Zhang to slow down to help the villains get there. She believes Captain Zhang was a basically good man who grew despondent at the things you’d asked him to do, and who grew afraid there would be too many questions directed at him. When Ms. Baldur’s parents tried to talk to him, he pretended not to speak English. None of us can understand why he’d do that, unless he had some guilty knowledge.”

Curtis sat back in the sofa, “Inspector,” he said, “you may be right. I’d never even suspected the man.”

Fairchild raised an eyebrow. “Of what?”

“I assume it’s some sort of smuggling,” Curtis said. “As I say, I’m rarely on the Mallory . Captain Zhang had the ship to himself most of the time. He could have been smuggling who knows what — dope? jewels? even people , for all we know — for years.”

Fairchild now was taking notes, and his expression was intense, brow furrowed. He said, “So you’re saying, these people who came aboard—”

“They weren’t from me,” Curtis told him. “I’ll say that flat out, that’s not the sort of thing I do. So if there were these people, and if Captain Zhang slowed for them, then they must have had something to do with him . And here was an unwanted witness, Kim Baldur, so naturally they tried to kill her. But she escaped, and Captain Zhang realized the truth would come out. No wonder he pretended he couldn’t speak English. And then he saw there was no way out. Or just the one way out.”

Fairchild flipped back and forth between new notes and old. “Ms. Baldur says she left the ship with George Manville.”

“Well, I don’t know why she’d say that. Unless— Inspector, when did she say that about George Manville? Was it after I’d accused him, but before I admitted I was wrong?”

“As a matter of fact,” Fairchild said, “yes.”

“Then there you are,” Curtis said. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The woman had no proof, no corroboration. In her fantasy, she thought Manville would agree to her story, to get back at me.”

“After you accused Mr. Manville,” Fairchild said, “did he, do you know, consult a lawyer locally, named Brevizin?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Curtis said. “I’m sure he consulted someone, but I don’t know who.”

“I’m wondering what he might have said to Mr. Brevizin.”

“Inspector,” Curtis said, “let me end this. Tomorrow I’ll arrange for George Manville to phone you from Singapore.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Fairchild said.

“Believe me,” Curtis told him, “if George had been involved in piracy and hugger-mugger on the Mallory , he would have mentioned it. He’s not one to keep a good story to himself.”

Fairchild laughed, and put away his notebook. “I’m sure you’re right.” Standing, he said, “I appreciate your time, Mr. Curtis.”

He’s converted, Curtis thought. All he has to do is hear from Manville tomorrow, and the new story is in place: Zhang was a smuggler, it was his associates who attacked Kim Baldur, and however she got off the ship it wasn’t with Manville. A dead smuggler and a disbelieved fantasist, and I can get on with my work.

Also getting to his feet, Curtis said, “Inspector, I meant to send a note and a check to Captain Zhang’s wife. I’m sorry it turned out he was betraying me, using my ship that way, but I’ll still send the note and the check.”

“Very good of you, Mr. Curtis,” Fairchild said.

“Without saying anything about these suspicions,” Curtis added. “We could still be wrong, I think. There could still be some other explanation.”

“I doubt it,” Fairchild said. “But we will, of course, keep an open mind.”

“Of course.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Curtis.”

“Good afternoon, Inspector.”

The instant Fairchild was gone, Curtis crossed to the telephone, and called the station. Helen Farrelly answered, in her quarters, and Curtis said, “Helen, would you unlock the office and let Morgan Pallifer in there and tell him to call me at the Heritage in Brisbane?”

Yes, she would, and everything was fine there, no trouble, and five minutes later the phone rang.

“Curtis.”

“Morgan here.”

“Morgan,” Curtis said, “I want you to spend some time today and tomorrow morning with Manville.”

“Oh, yes?”

“I want you to listen to him, because I want you to be able to do him by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Do him?”

“I mean talk like him. Talk enough like him on the telephone so that a man who’s never met him will believe it’s him.”

“That shouldn’t be hard. We’re both American.”

“Yes, but there’s the sound of the voice, the tone, if one person was going to describe it to another. Your voice is a little higher-pitched. Anyway, you can do it. And tomorrow at one you’ll call my office in Singapore, and ask for Margaret.”

“Margaret, yes.”

“Margaret will patch you in to a call to Brisbane, to a police inspector named Tony Fairchild.”

“I get it. I’m calling from Singapore.”

“And you’re George Manville. And on that last night on the Mallory , you slept like a baby, heard nothing, saw nothing, left the ship in Brisbane the ordinary way next morning. And you didn’t see Kim Baldur that morning, but you didn’t think about it. And you’re happy to be working for Richard Curtis again, and you’ll give Inspector Fairchild the number in Singapore— Margaret will tell you — where he can call you back if he needs any more.”

Morgan Pallifer laughed. “I’ve never delivered anybody’s last words before,” he said.

Andre Brevizin entered the offices of Coolis, Maguire, Brevizin & Chin at exactly ten-thirty Monday morning, as was his wont, and Angela Brother, the firm’s excellent receptionist, raised two fingers as she said, “Two calls.”

“Good God,” Brevizin said. “Before I even get to my office? My papers? I’m not sure I like the pace you’re setting, Angela.”

“They’re both interesting,” Angela promised.

“At this hour? Try me.”

“The one is from a police inspector, Tony Fairchild. He rang at nine this morning, he wants to meet with you sometime today.”

“A police inspector? As a client, or as a policeman?”

“As a policeman. You can help with his enquiries.”

“We’ll see about that. And the other?”

“Richard Curtis.”

It took a second for the penny to drop, and then Brevizin said, “Angela! No!”

“Yes. He would also like an appointment. I promised to call them both.”

“Yes, indeed. What do we know about this policeman? What’s his name again?”

“Tony Fairchild. I’ve put notes on your desk. He’s something high up in criminal investigation. He’s the one who captured Edders and Petersen, remember? The stock fraud people.”