Cold Blood

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘The Caley residence.’

  ‘Peters, will you check on Mrs Caley? And will you say to her that everything was all right and she has no need to worry. I will be home in half an hour or so.’

  Lorraine sat in her car. It was sweltering, the seat burning her backside, so she opened her windows all round. The portable buzzed and hissed.

  ‘Rosie, can you call Robert Caley? He’ll probably be at his office, so try there and ask if he’ll see me.’

  ‘Sorry, hang on a second.’ Rosie was munching a carrot, her cheeks bulging. She swallowed quickly. ‘Sorry, let me put Bill on, he wants a word. While you’re on to him I’ll call Caley, okay?’

  Rooney picked up the phone. ‘I’ve been trying to check out this casino deal.’

  ‘Yeah, what you got?’

  ‘Not a lot but I got what I could. Caley heads a consortium made up of him, a couple of local moneymen and a casino outfit from out of state. They’re ready to back the deal to the tune of around two hundred and fifty million.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yep, lot of dough, but Caley will take the major slice of ownership as he laid out the initial payment for the land, massive site near the riverfront. The complex will have a hotel and a lot of high-class shops as well as the casino.’

  ‘So what’s Caley’s problem?’ Lorraine interjected.

  ‘Well, there’s a number of little hitches. One, he’s been wanting to set this deal up for five years, but unfortunately the state of Louisiana hasn’t been too quick about getting legalized gambling on the statute book, while their good neighbours next door have been straight off the blocks – a lot of the gambling revenue for the whole of the south-east already has a happy home up the coast in Mississippi, and maybe it ain’t gonna move. Second, there’s some old money elements in the city that are dragging out some case about re-zoning the area, saying it’s prohibited by federal law: load of fucking horseshit, but they could hold things up quite a while. And third, get this, there’s some very fucking weird provisions in this gambling statute – the city gets to choose the guy who develops the site, but the state gets to say who runs the casino. Everybody has been thinking it would be Caley and his friends, as soon as they could get this legal mess straightened out about the site, but lately people are getting to wondering what’s holding things up. Some other rich guys down here seem to have got the message that maybe somebody else might just get the licence to run the show, so now Caley’s got a rival consortium on his back, call themselves Doubloons. One of his backers has dropped out until he has the operating licence in his pocket, and the other may walk too.’

  ‘You got the backers’ names?’

  ‘Yep, two guys named Bodenhamer and Dulay. They’re big-time owners of major corporations, Bodenhamer construction, Dulay liquor. They both stand to make a packet out of the casino, not only out of the gambling, but by selling the stuff they got to sell, and as yet they don’t stand to lose a cent. Caley’s in a lot deeper though.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lorraine asked, trying to assimilate all the information.

  ‘Caley paid for the land leases on the site. If he doesn’t get the licence he’s stuck with them. This is all common knowledge in New Orleans, but I’d get a lot more from being there.’

  ‘It might be common knowledge, Bill, but how come this isn’t detailed in any of the reports your pal Sharkey xeroxed for us?’

  ‘Maybe he was looking out for his own ass, I dunno, or maybe they didn’t think it important.’

  ‘No? Well, I think it is. You’re sayin’, in so many words, Robert Caley’s got to get the casino deal?’

  ‘Sure. He’s been cash-poor for years – he liquidated a lot of his assets, sold off properties in LA and Louisiana. If the deal is greenlighted he stands to make mega-bucks. So maybe Nick was right about Caley. He’s up against very tough opposition, mainly from this other consortium, but the door’s wide open now for anyone else to walk in.’

  ‘We got to get as much as we can and fast. I’ll see if Caley will give me further details. Rosie contacted him yet?’

  Rosie took the phone. ‘Yes, be there about four-thirty. He’s warned security to expect you.’

  Lorraine tucked the phone under her chin and started up the engine. ‘Okay, I’m on my way.’

  Rosie replaced the receiver and bent down to start removing tin-foil dishes from a carrier bag of takeaway, spreading a newspaper as tablecloth on Lorraine’s desk.

  ‘It’s Japanese, Bill, nothing fattening – that’s prawn, that’s salmon and that’s fish, raw fish. It doesn’t taste so good first time, but give it a good chew and a dip in the sauce. Then we got grated lettuce and broccoli.’

  ‘No thanks, I’ll get a hamburger.’

  ‘This is better for you – at least just try it.’

  ‘No thanks, I’ll wait.’

  Rosie laid out all the dishes, then speared a piece of fish on a fork and carried it to Rooney.

  ‘Just have a taste, it’s good, healthy, and if you don’t mind me saying so, that suit’d fit better if you lost a few pounds.’

  Rooney made a face, but opened his mouth and chewed, while Rosie leaned over him, waiting. He swallowed, nodding his head.

  ‘Not bad, bit like Chinese, isn’t it?’ Rosie prepared two platefuls as Bill hovered over the dishes, picking up a prawn and nibbling it.

  ‘No rice? Didn’t you get any rice?’

  ‘No, you can’t eat rice with protein because it’s a carbohydrate and you can’t mix them. Next meal we can have a huge plate of pasta, as much pasta as you can eat, but no protein.’

  ‘That’s interesting. Where you getting all this from?’

  ‘Lorraine, she put me on to it.’

  Bill sat down in front of his plate, tucking a paper napkin in his collar. ‘She knows a thing or two, does Lorraine.’

  Rosie nodded, pouring some spring water into two cups. ‘She always impresses me, sort of takes me by surprise. She’s a funny woman, though, and I don’t mean to bitch about her behind her back, but sometimes she can have a sharp tongue, and then other times she’s as soft as a baby.’

  Rooney had his mouth full, or he would have contradicted her vehemently, because in all the years he had known Lorraine Page he had never seen a side of her character that could be described as soft as a baby, but he said nothing, chewing in unison with Rosie. Even if what he was eating did taste like rubber and he would have preferred a huge hamburger special with sausage and bacon on the side, he liked the fact that he was not sitting at home alone. French fries he could get on his way home, sweet company he could not.

  A young man with slicked-back hair, wearing a grey designer suit and floral tie, led Lorraine into Robert Caley’s office. He tapped at an immense floor-to-ceiling door, a green light blinked on an intercom by the side, and the floral tie opened the door. He peered in, Lorraine just behind him.

  ‘It’s Mrs Page, Mr Caley.’

  He turned with a whiter than white, capped-tooth smile. ‘Please . . .’

  The office was a vast windowed room, with blinds cutting out the afternoon sunlight. An enormous black desk with black glass top dominated the room. The carpet was grey thick-pile, and soft leather bucket chairs formed a semicircle in front of the black monster. Expensive prints lined the walls but there were no filing cabinets, no stray tables. Only a bronze sculpture of what looked like an elongated man on a plinth pointing to heaven was placed discreetly in a corner.

  Robert Caley was speaking on one of the eight telephones lining his desk. The high back of his chair was facing Lorraine so she couldn’t see him, but his assistant indicated one of the bucket seats.

  ‘Fine, Bel Air, see you there.’ Caley eased round to face Lorraine as he replaced the phone. ‘Excuse me one moment, Mrs Page.’

  He looked at his assistant. ‘Call my five o’clock appointment and move him to six – I have to go out to the Bel Air for a while. And grovel some more to Dulay’s office, Mark, he’s really pissed off.’
r />   ‘Yes, sir. Do you want any refreshments?’

  ‘No, unless . . .’ Caley turned his attention to Lorraine.

  ‘Nothing for me, thank you.’

  Caley gave a curt nod and the doors were closed silently. ‘You wanted to see me, Mrs Page?’

  He swivelled from side to side, and, not waiting for her to answer, tapped the phone he had used with his forefinger. ‘That was trouble.’

  ‘I’m sorry, if it is inconvenient . . .’

  Caley smiled glumly and leaned on his elbows, cupping his chin in his hands. ‘It is, but maybe I need something to take my mind off the fact I might go belly up. You want to see something?’ He sprang out of his chair and pressed a button at the side of the desk. Lorraine turned as part of the grey wall to her right slid back to display a large architect’s drawing. ‘This is what might do me in. Come here, let me show you.’ He showed her the proposed casino site, hotels, shopping precinct, and talked her through his plans, much as Rooney had outlined. ‘Looks good, huh? As I owned the entire site, I would of course be the main shareholder. But I didn’t count on the state fannying around for fucking years while they commission fifty reports on how gambling corrupts widows and orphans and makes you go blind, before they get around to deciding that actually it’s an emerging area of the leisure industry, worthy new area of economic development, provision of employment, economic stimulation, just what the city needs. They realized all of that first time around up the coast. Five years of my life go into this plan, and my partners, who unlike myself have not laid out so much as a dollar, are getting cold feet, while a gang of other guys around town decide they might like a piece of the pie and get themselves into a little huddle too. So . . .’

  Lorraine looked over the model. ‘So if your partners pull out, what are you left with?’

  ‘A lot of land, and no money. So you see, I need those partners, without them I couldn’t build myself a shed. That’s how deep in this mess I am.’ He clicked off the screen, pulled back the wall panel across the model and returned to his desk.

  Lorraine sat back in her chair. ‘Are your partners dumping you?’

  ‘Yep, one gone and one just about ready to. He called in the last hour – asked me what I propose to do to ensure this goes through when he’s the one pushing the Governor’s fucking golf cart for him every weekend. There’s only so long you can string people like Lloyd Dulay – the brewery magnate, if you don’t know who he is. When you have his kind of money there are a lot of people like me dangling deals and you know these mega-rich bastards are always intent on anything that’s gonna make them even richer, they just don’t want to wait.’

  ‘You mind if I smoke?’ she asked.

  ‘No, go ahead.’

  He opened a drawer and placed an exquisite onyx and gold box on the table. She took a cigarette, and he clicked open the gold Cartier lighter from inside the box for her. As she inhaled, she looked up and met his eyes. They stared at one another for a brief moment, then he let the cigarette box lid close with a snap. He passed across a black glass ashtray. ‘I need a drink.’

  She watched him cross the thick-pile carpet to yet another hidden section in the pale grey walls. Another panel slid aside to reveal a large drinks cabinet. She could hear the clink of ice against the glass and her heart began to beat rapidly. Was he going to offer her a drink? More importantly, would she be able to refuse it?

  Lorraine was there for a specific reason – to discover if Caley was financially in as much trouble over the casino deal as Rooney had surmised. Yet he had, without any prompting, told her. Either he was a consummate actor and had pre-empted her reason for being there, or he was being honest. He had confused her and she was at a loss as to how she should continue the meeting.

  ‘This office is a bit crass, isn’t it?’ he chuckled. ‘When I first took it over, I used to go down the corridor and down a back flight of stairs to the John. I didn’t know which button to press for my own en suite bathroom. Fucking nightmare of grey on grey, but it’s only rented.’ He placed a long crystal glass of sparkling water with ice and lemon on the desk. He had a small, square, cut-crystal glass with brandy.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

  Again he met her eyes, and this time he smiled. ‘You didn’t think I’d offer you alcohol, did you?’

  ‘For a moment I did.’ He was throwing her sideways.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that to you, I know you have a problem. I should do, I live with a woman who has not one, but a number. But then I think we have already discussed my wife’s situation.’

  She nodded, wondering if one of the grey walls also slid back to reveal a bed. If it had done and he did reveal it, she wouldn’t know how she would react. She found him even more attractive today, liking everything about him; his hands were strong and tanned, his suit more casual than the floral-tied assistant’s, and he wore a collarless shirt with two buttons open at the neck, and simple loafers. Everything about him was casual, apart from his blue eyes: they were as dangerous as his smile.

  ‘I have to go to New Orleans, tomorrow maybe. You want to come with me?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sipped the iced water.

  ‘I guess you want to see what you can dig up there.’ He laughed. ‘Dig being the operative word. I might be digging for the rest of my life if I don’t pull this deal off.’

  ‘But surely your wife has a considerable amount—’

  He interrupted her. ‘Let me make this very clear, Mrs Page. My wife’s money is hers, I make my own. We have separate bank accounts, always have done, and in case you haven’t unearthed it yet, I signed a pre-nuptial agreement. What is my wife’s is hers, what is mine is mine, for what it’s worth.’

  ‘If she dies . . .’ Lorraine said quietly.

  He glared.’What?’

  ‘You are her main beneficiary, aren’t you.’

  ‘No, Mrs Page, my daughter is . . .’

  ‘But if Anna Louise is dead?’ she said, keeping her voice soft.

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Dear God, is that the reason you are here? What the fuck do you think I am, huh? We are talking about my daughter, what do you think I have done, killed her so that I can get my wife’s money? Do you think I’m making plans to kill my wife, is that it? What do you think I am?’ He shook his head. ‘Jesus Christ, that is so sick.’

  ‘I’m not here for that.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it, because if you were I’d throw you out of here myself.’

  ‘I’m looking for motives for Anna Louise’s disappearance, Mr Caley. Maybe you’ve given me one.’

  He glared again. ‘You seriously think I would be capable of murdering my own daughter?’

  ‘I don’t know you, Mr Caley, but as an investigator I have to look at all possibilities. You are, as far as I can see and in so much as you have just told me, the only person that, like it or not, would benefit from Anna Louise’s death.’

  ‘And I’d benefit a whole lot more if my wife also died, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you think I am arranging to kill her? Is that what you came here to discuss? To find out by what means I intend to murder my wife? Well, in your capacity as a so-called investigator, maybe you could give me some tips.’

  ‘I am not, Mr Caley, a so-called investigator.’

  ‘You weren’t much of a cop.’

  She stood up and leaned towards him across the desk. ‘You have no idea what I was and I am not prepared to sit here and be insulted.’

  ‘But you can insult me? Anna Louise is my daughter, now you get out of this office and do the job my wife hired you to do, because I did not kill my daughter and I have no intention of murdering my wife.’

  Lorraine coughed, trying as best as she could to appear nonchalant. ‘Perhaps one of your business associates may have a connection.’

  He sat back in his chair and stared at her, then swivelled round so she could not see his face. His voice became deeper, quieter. ‘Go on, Mrs Page . . .’

/>   ‘Well, you’ve just made it perfectly clear; there’s a lot of money to be made, there’s you and a rival consortium, and things would be a lot easier for them if you were just suddenly to lose interest in this project. Plus there’s the riverboats – presumably a casino like yours would take a lot of their business, right? So there is a possibility that your daughter may have been part of some kind of plot.’

  ‘Like what?’ he snapped.

  ‘Well, someone may have kidnapped her to persuade you not to go ahead with your project. You own the land, and your partners haven’t put in a cent so far . . .’

  He remained silent for a moment and then slowly swivelled round in his chair to face her. ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s just a theory, but someone may have been considering using her to make you back off. Has anyone approached you directly, warned you off personally?’

  He stared, then shrugged. ‘No, no, they have not. You mean hold her to ransom?’

  She nodded. ‘Has anyone offered just to buy out your land?’

  He began to toy with his empty glass, moving it slowly along the desk top. ‘No, but tell me this, why, if what you are saying were true, was there no ransom note, no request for a meeting, no contact whatsoever? The Doubloons consortium has so much muscle that I do not believe for one moment they would resort to kidnapping Anna Louise as a means of threatening me.’

  ‘But they may have used some unsavoury goons to pick her up, maybe hold her, and it went wrong.’

  ‘You mean they killed her?’

  There was that awful pain in his eyes, and she had to look away. ‘Possibly, which would explain why there was no note or no contact with you. All the publicity surrounding your daughter’s disappearance must have had an adverse effect on the deal.’

  Caley pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘But they are successful enough at blocking any advancement of my development without my daughter, they didn’t need her. And if I continue to lose my partners, then . . .’

  ‘You’ve considered this, haven’t you?’