Росс Томас - The Singapore Wink

“A what?”

“An apartment.”

“Where did you first see Angelo today?”

“Here.”

“When did he first get in touch with you?”

“Early this morning, by radio-telephone to the yacht.”

“What did you talk about?”

“About Mr. Cauthorne. And what Mr. Cauthorne said last night.”

“He didn’t mention that his wallet was missing?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did he say about Cauthorne?”

“He said he wanted to see him. This morning. I suggested that we meet here and he agreed.”

“The Lozupone girl saw your husband the day before yesterday,” Dangerfield said. “She told Cauthorne that she did. You knew she saw him, didn’t you?”

Toh stirred in his chair. “My daughter has answered enough of your questions,” he said in his deep voice. “She will answer no more.”

“Yes she will,” Dangerfield said, turning to me. “Got a cigarette?” I handed him the pack and he shook one out and lighted it with a match from a folder. He looked around for an ashtray but couldn’t find one so he stuck the used match behind the ones still in the folder.

Toh rose. “Since my son-in-law is not here, I suggest that there is no point to this conversation. It is a police matter and you, Mr. Dangerfield, are not of the police. At least, not of the Singapore police.”

“Sit down,” Dangerfield said. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

“I’m sorry, but you leave me no choice,” Toh said. He started towards the door.

“I said sit down,” Dangerfield said and there was a hard edge to his voice that I hadn’t heard before. Toh paused at the door. He stared thoughtfully at Dangerfield for several moments and then said, “Why?” and the way he said it indicated that there had better be a very good answer.

“Because your son-in-law has something that I want and unless I get it I’m going to the police with the information about why Carla Lozupone saw Angelo yesterday.”

Toh turned from the door and crossed to an armchair. He sat down in it slowly. “What information?” he said softly.

“That Angelo was blackmailing Carla Lozupone’s father and that she was carrying around a letter that would allow Angelo, or anyone else, to get his hands on one million U.S. dollars in a Panama bank, no questions asked. I think the police would be very interested in that letter.”

Mrs. Sacchetti exchanged a glance with her father. Toh nodded slightly and I assumed that they had some private method of communicating. A lifted eyebrow might mean that cook had given notice again while Toh’s nod perhaps served to inform his daughter that rain had cancelled the party rally at the culture center.

Regardless of how they managed it, the communication was there and Mrs. Sacchetti picked it up quickly enough. “What do you mean ‘or anyone else,’ Mr. Dangerfield?”

“Just that,” Dangerfield said. “The letter was just like bearer bonds. Whoever has it collects the kitty — one million dollars’ worth. The Panama banks adopted the system several years ago and it’s a convenient way to transfer big sums anonymously. And it’s also the best motive around for the death of the Lozupone girl.”

“Why should my husband—”

Dangerfield interrupted her with an impatient wave of his cigarette and dropped some ashes on the rug. “You mean why should he kill her if he was going to get the letter anyway once Cauthorne here left town?”

Again the wife of Angelo Sacchetti glanced at her father and again he nodded slightly. “You have made an excellent point,” she said.

“Then you knew about the letter?”

“I didn’t know it was transferable.”

“Whoever killed the girl knew.”

“What you’re saying, Mr. Dangerfield,” Toh said, rolling his tones up from deep in his stomach, “is that whoever killed the young woman took the letter and then planted evidence to make it appear that my son-in-law murdered her?”

“You’re right. That’s what I’m saying. But it’s not much help to Angelo, is it? I mean he’s not going to the local cops and say, ‘Look, I was blackmailing this guy in the States, but somebody else killed his daughter and then framed me for the job.’ He’s not going to say that, is he?”

Neither Toh nor his daughter said anything. They continued to stare at Dangerfield who looked around for something to put out his cigarette in. He spotted a dish on a table, rose and ground the butt into it. It didn’t look like an ashtray to me. He turned to Mrs. Sacchetti again who sat in the chair, her back straight, her feet firmly on the floor, motionless except for her eyes which followed Dangerfield around.

“I bet I can tell you what Sacchetti’s doing right now,” Dangerfield said. “I bet he’s finding himself two or three witnesses who are going to account for every minute of his time yesterday and last night. And I also bet that he’s going to find two more who’ll swear that his wallet was lost or stolen last week or the week before. And for all I know, maybe it was. So maybe he’ll clear himself of the girl’s murder. I don’t know. I don’t even care. All I’m interested in is one thing and that’s the stuff that he was using to blackmail Joe Lozupone with and I have an idea that when I walk out of this house it’s going to be in my hip pocket.”

Toh’s deep, bass voice rumbled again. “Your theories are most fanciful, Mr. Dangerfield, and your threats are equally empty.”

Dangerfield laughed. It was a harsh laugh that had a sharp bite to it. “You like this house, don’t you, friend, and you like that Rolls that’s parked out in front, and from what Cauthorne here tells me, you like the money that Angelo cuts you in on every month. I hear you weren’t doing too well before Angelo appeared on the scene. I mean there was no house and no car and no yacht and no money. All you had was a certain amount of political muscle which was hard to cash in on until Angelo showed you how. Well, it takes money, real money, to get an operation like Angelo’s running.” He paused and turned to me. “Give me another cigarette.” I gave him one and he lit it and dropped the match on the rug this time.

“Now Angelo’s in trouble, bad trouble. It’s going to take him a while to get out of it, if he ever does. And what happens to the operation when he’s not around? I don’t think it’s going to run itself. So when he gets clear of the murder charge — if he ever does — then he’s going to need money. Lots of it. And if he doesn’t get clear of the rap, he’s going to need it even worse. And there’s only one place he can get it and that’s from Godfather Cole. You know about Angelo and his godfather, don’t you?”

Once again father and daughter exchanged glances and nods and raised eyebrows and this time the daughter spoke. “We are familiar with my husband’s operations, Mr. Dangerfield.” She paused for a moment “All of them; there are no secrets.”

“Now that’s just fine,” Dangerfield said. “Because you’re going to have to make a decision in about two minutes and it’s going to be a decision that you can’t check with Angelo so I sure hope that you’ve got the sense to make the right one.”

“What decision?” Toh said.

“If I don’t get that stuff on Joe Lozupone, then I’m going to cut off Angelo’s source of money.”

“I don’t believe you,” the woman said.

I sat there and watched Dangerfield operate and I was glad that it was them and not me. He ran a hand over his large white dome, brushed a few thick strands of hair into place, and grinned at Mrs. Sacchetti.

“Well, I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do unless I get that stuff, and then you can make up your mind about believing me. Unless I get the information that Angelo’s been using on Lozupone, I’m going to get word to Joe Lozupone that Charles Cole has been an FBI informer for years. Now once I get that word to Joe, Charles Cole is going to have about two days of living left and Angelo’s going to have a hell of a hard time blackmailing a dead man.”