Domino Island

by Desmond Bagley

  Idle laughed. ‘The changeover will be easier in this office than in most.’

  I said, ‘Tell me about the low-cost housing project.’

  ‘A few years ago Mr Salton came across a Canadian architect who had some good ideas about low-cost housing,’ said Idle. ‘On a pilot scheme the ideas worked and so he went to Western and Continental for development capital. We’ve built nearly a thousand houses and, at the moment, we’re completing them at the rate of about five a week.’

  ‘I hear they’re rented and not sold,’ I said, and Idle nodded. ‘How does that affect your cash flow?’

  ‘It doesn’t make things particularly easy,’ Idle admitted. ‘But we get by.’

  ‘Are the rents economic?’

  He grimaced. ‘Just economic. We might make a one per cent profit.’

  I said carefully, ‘Someone suggested to me that the rents weren’t economic and that Salton was building houses to buy votes.’

  Idle flushed and said hotly, ‘Whoever said that is a damned liar. The rents are low because we keep our overheads down and because of the architect’s smart ideas. We’re not out to make a profit, but we’re not out to make a loss either.’

  I turned to Stern. ‘Since Salton Estates is primarily a charitable organisation, I’d have thought it would be better established as a trust, with a proper board of trustees.’

  ‘Mr Salton was thinking of doing just that,’ said Stern. ‘His death interfered with those plans.’

  ‘What’s the situation now?’

  ‘We had a directors’ meeting. Mr Idle – who was general manager – was made managing director. I’m chairman.’

  ‘And Mrs Salton?’

  ‘She’s on the board.’

  I thought about it and I didn’t like what I was thinking. This was altogether too loose. Business trust is a frail flower and the best way of encouraging it is to ensure that there is no scope at all for larceny. Idle and Stern were probably pillars of mercantile rectitude, but there was an outside chance that they were otherwise, and that was a chance that had to be covered.

  I said deliberately, ‘It seems to me that, pending the formation of a trust, Western and Continental should have a representative on the board of directors. We have a lot of money invested here – about a quarter of Salton Estates’ fundings.’

  Stern said stiffly, ‘There’s been no suggestion of that before.’

  ‘Circumstances alter cases,’ I said. ‘I’ll be making that recommendation to Mr Costello. It’s up to him if he follows through or not.’

  Stern’s mouth was a tightly compressed line. He could see very well what I was getting at, and he didn’t like it. I couldn’t blame him – no one relishes the idea of a personal watchdog, as I was discovering with him. ‘Very well,’ he said.

  I was an intelligence consultant and not an accountant, so there was no point in me going through the books, even though I’d told Stern I wanted to. Figures, whether in a ledger or on a computer print-out, were just a lot of chicken tracks to me. I let him off the hook. ‘Well,’ I said genially. ‘I don’t think there’s much more I can do here, except one thing – I’d like to see Mrs Forsyth, Mr Salton’s secretary. I believe she works here now.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Idle. ‘I’ll send for her.’

  ‘I’d rather see her alone,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘I’ll take you to her office.’

  Stern stood up. ‘You won’t be needing me, Mr Kemp. I’ll get back to Marshalltown. Work doesn’t stop just because one isn’t in the office.’ Mrs Forsyth was evidently too low-grade to require his presence. He paused at the door on his way out. ‘I can’t tell you how shocked I was to hear of the assault on Mr Ogilvie. I truly hope he recovers.’

  I shook my head. ‘Too late for that, Mr Stern. He died this morning.’

  His face went pale. ‘My God, I’m sorry to hear that. Have the police found out who did it?’

  ‘They’re still looking,’ I said. ‘I don’t think they have much hope of success, though.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ he said. ‘Terrible.’ He made a fluttering gesture with his hands. ‘I don’t know what to say, Mr Kemp.’

  ‘There’s nothing much anyone can say.’ I looked at my watch. ‘I’ll come over to your office after I’ve seen Mrs Forsyth, if that’s convenient. There’s a small problem I’d like to talk over with you privately.’

  IV

  I didn’t get much out of Mrs Forsyth. She was about sixty, extremely slight and with a brisk, no-nonsense air about her. Yes, she had cleared Mr Salton’s effects from the office in the Learjet. No, she had not touched his suits – they were none of her affair. No, she hadn’t found anything unusual in Mr Salton’s desk drawers in the aircraft. Anywhere else? His office at El Cerco? Anywhere at all? No, nothing at all, Mr Kemp.

  Thank you very much, Mrs Forsyth. For nothing.

  I drove to Stern’s office and waited twenty minutes while he disposed of a client. Then I was admitted and sat down. He put the tips of his fingers together. ‘You spoke of a small problem, Mr Kemp.’

  ‘Not really a problem, more of a delicate situation,’ I said. ‘When a man dies, his executors sometimes come across strange things. It might be discovered that a pillar of the church has amassed the finest collection of hardcore pornography in the world, for example. What did you find out about Salton?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ he said, but his eyes were watchful.

  ‘You are Salton’s executor,’ I said. ‘So you must have checked on Jildav Ltd. Isn’t that right?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘And Jildav Ltd owns property here in Marshalltown – the only place it does on the island, besides El Cerco. Isn’t that correct?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But what of it?’

  ‘Would I be right in saying that Jildav owns Gregory Plaza?’

  Stern stood up and went to the window. He stared into the street for a moment then swung around and faced me. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And I repeat – what of it?’

  ‘You live there, don’t you? On the eighth floor.’

  ‘I do, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.’

  I smiled. ‘Do you pay an economic rent, Mr Stern?’

  ‘That’s a damned insulting question,’ he said. ‘I pay the going rate, the same as anyone else who lives there. If you’re implying that …’

  I held up my hand. ‘I’m not implying anything, Mr Stern. Just trying to get at some facts. Do you still say that you haven’t found anything about Salton that might prove to be a matter of some delicacy?’

  He moved uneasily. ‘I don’t follow you.’

  ‘All right, I’ll spell it out. Who pays the rent on apartment 432?’

  ‘How would I know? I don’t know anything about apartment 432.’

  ‘Oh, come off it, Stern. That’s where Salton had his first heart attack.’

  He sat down suddenly as though the strength had gone out of his legs. ‘So you’ve got that far, have you?’

  ‘It wasn’t hard. Did you know about her before Salton died?’

  He shook his head. ‘I suspected something, but I wasn’t certain. After his heart attack I kept a check but he never went near the place so I decided I was wrong. It was only when he died and I went through his accounts that I discovered he was paying the rent.’

  ‘He’d have to pay the rent. He couldn’t just let her live there rent-free even though he owned the place. That would be too obvious. Did Mrs Salton know about Miss Tomsson before Salton died?’

  ‘No, not to my knowledge.’

  ‘Does she know now?’

  ‘I haven’t told her,’ he said. ‘And I don’t intend to. These peccadilloes in a man’s life shouldn’t be given a public airing after his death. If Mrs Salton doesn’t already know, there is nothing to be gained by telling her. It would hurt her dreadfully and unnecessarily.’

  ‘I agree,’ I said. ‘And I don’t intend to tell her. But someone else knows.’
<
br />   ‘Who?’

  ‘Joe Hawke. What are the odds on his blowing the gaff?’

  ‘My God!’ said Stern. ‘That’s something he’ll use. That bastard has no principles at all.’ The uncharacteristic language showed that he was perturbed. ‘How do you know that Hawke knows?’

  ‘Because he tipped me off about it. What are you doing about Miss Tomsson?’

  ‘What do you mean? What should I do?’

  I said, ‘Are you looking after her interests in any way?’

  ‘Looking after her interests?’ He was plainly baffled. ‘A woman like that?’ he said distastefully.

  ‘A woman like what?’ I demanded. ‘Don’t be such a bloody puritan. She was good enough for Salton, wasn’t she? I’d have thought he’d want her looked after – discreetly, of course.’ I stared at him. ‘Do you mean to tell me that you’re just letting the rent run to the end of the quarter and then leaving her to fend for herself?’

  ‘There is no legal obligation,’ he said primly.

  ‘No, there isn’t,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘She could blackmail the hell out of Mrs Salton but, if I’m any judge of character, she’s made no move to do so. How much would it be worth to Mrs Salton to prevent a story like that breaking? Do you think a man like Salton would shack up with any floozy? She’s a straightforward and honest woman and she deserves better.’

  ‘I don’t see what this has got to do with you,’ Stern said acidly.

  ‘I don’t either,’ I said. ‘I just don’t like seeing anyone knocked down. But think this one over, Mr Stern. David Salton had a quarrel with his wife just before he was found dead in most mysterious circumstances. You know it, I know it and Superintendent Hanna knows it. If it should prove that the quarrel was about Miss Tomsson, then Hanna is going to be putting two and two together to make five. Jill Salton wouldn’t be the first jealous wife to kill her husband. Very few people are murdered by strangers – it’s your nearest and dearest you have to watch out for.’

  Stern moistened his lips. ‘That’s a ridiculous hypothesis. And the inquest findings …’

  ‘That post-mortem was a joke. Besides, a policeman is not bound by the findings of an inquest.’

  ‘So what do you suggest I do about Miss Tomsson?’

  ‘Whatever it is, it will have to be very discreet. She wants to go to England, I believe, which should suit you. Paying her air fare and giving her a stake to live on until she settles down might not be a bad idea. But do it carefully and through a third party.’

  Stern grimaced. ‘I’m a lawyer and an officer of the court. Are you asking that I become accessory to a felony?’

  ‘What felony? As you said, it’s just a hypothesis, interesting and perhaps ridiculous. Maybe you’d better ask Hanna which of those descriptions he prefers.’

  I walked to the door and Stern came from behind the desk, rather more meek than I had seen him before. ‘I have to thank you for pointing out the delicacy of the situation, Mr Kemp. I must say that I hadn’t thought the thing through quite as cogently as you have. I might take some such action as you have outlined.’

  As I went down to the street I speculated about Stern. He knew on which side his bread was buttered and I suspected he liked the butter spread thick. Running an apartment in Gregory Plaza wasn’t cheap, even for a successful lawyer, and he had the wit to know that Mrs Salton was his meal ticket. If she was removed from the scene, then it was likely that he would no longer be chairman of Salton Estates Ltd and he could lose his other directorships in the lucrative Salton empire. I rather thought his legal ethics wouldn’t stand in the way of extending a welcoming arm to help Leotta Tomsson.

  I crossed the pavement and got into my car. The interior was like an oven so I wound down both side windows to allow the air to circulate. I took the key from my pocket and, as I moved my hand to put it in the ignition, it slipped from my fingers. I stooped to pick it up from the floor and something brushed the nape of my neck.

  I straightened, put the key in the lock and then felt the back of my neck. My fingers came away red with blood.

  The pain came later.

  SIX

  I

  ‘You think someone took a shot at you?’ said Superintendent Hanna.

  I winced as the doctor did something to the back of my neck. ‘Either that or you’ve got bloody big mosquitoes here. Ask the expert if you don’t believe me.’

  The hotel doctor was competent enough at administering first aid, given the constraints of my suite. I had rung Hanna immediately and, as he had promised, he came running. He looked sleepier than ever.

  ‘Well, doctor?’ he asked.

  ‘It looks like a bullet graze,’ said the doctor. ‘There’s nothing to say it isn’t. It certainly isn’t a mosquito bite.’

  ‘Very funny,’ said Hanna. ‘Did you hear the shot?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘But there was a lot of traffic noise.’

  ‘Which direction did the bullet come from?’

  ‘How the hell would I know?’ I said. ‘I didn’t even feel it at first.’

  ‘I think I can tell you that,’ said the doctor. ‘From the way the tissue is torn, I’d say it came from left to right.’ He pressed firmly. ‘That dressing should hold, Mr Kemp. You can lift your head now.’

  ‘That’s something,’ said Hanna. ‘Do you remember where the car was parked?’

  I straightened and flexed my neck. ‘Of course.’ Suddenly I shuddered.

  Hanna leaned forward and stared at me. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘The thought just came into my mind of what would have happened if I hadn’t dropped the key.’ I lowered my head a little and then raised it. Touching the side of my neck, I said, ‘The bullet would have entered just about here. It would have cut through the carotid and I’d have bled to death in about two minutes.’

  I began to laugh as the hysteria kicked in, and the doctor shook out a couple of tablets from a bottle. ‘Take these.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Just a sedative,’ he said soothingly. ‘You’re a bit uptight right now.’ He went into the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and I took the tablets. ‘I’d stay in your room tonight,’ he said. ‘Rest as much as you can. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.’

  As the doctor packed his bag, Hanna said, ‘Don’t talk about this to anyone, doctor. It’s police business.’

  ‘I never talk about my patients.’ The doctor went away.

  ‘So someone took a shot at you,’ said Hanna. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, and then a thought struck me. ‘How do you suppose alcohol would combine with a sedative?’

  ‘No idea.’

  I crossed the room and picked up the telephone. ‘Get me the hotel doctor.’

  ‘People don’t shoot at people for no reason,’ said Hanna.

  ‘They don’t necessarily give a reason.’ I listened to what the telephone said. ‘I know, he’s only just left my suite. Ask him to give me a ring when he gets in, would you? The name is Kemp.’ I hung up the phone and lay on the bed.

  ‘First Ogilvie and now you,’ said Hanna.

  ‘First Salton,’ I corrected him. ‘Ogilvie came later.’

  ‘The connection between you and Ogilvie is obvious – maybe a little too obvious,’ said Hanna. ‘But it’s the methods. I don’t like the variety of methods. Ogilvie was beaten up and you were shot.’

  ‘It comes to the same thing in the end,’ I said. The telephone rang and I picked it up.

  ‘Ogilvie could have survived,’ said Hanna. ‘The attempt on you was intended to be more final.’ He shook his head irritably.

  I said into the telephone, ‘Hello, doctor. How would alcohol mix with the sedative you gave me?’

  ‘You mean you want a drink?’ He paused. ‘It should be all right, provided you don’t drink the whole bottle.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll do the same for you some day.’ I put down the phone and said to Hanna, ‘There are glasses on the tray and
scotch in the minibar. Do you mind?’

  He sighed tiredly and got up from the chair in which he was sitting. ‘You really think this is to do with Salton’s death?’

  ‘Don’t you? It seems as though anyone asking about Salton runs into trouble.’

  Hanna put down two glasses on the bedside table. ‘No one has shot at me,’ he said. I frowned as he uncapped a half-bottle of malt and poured the drinks. ‘Who did you see today?’

  ‘A man called Roker from the Caribbean Banking Corporation.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘I don’t have to tell you all my business,’ I said.

  Hanna smiled. ‘Tell me something, even if it’s only a lie. What did Roker want?’

  ‘You remember me telling you that someone had been pretty insistent about me leaving – that was Roker. He wanted me to cease and desist. It seems I’m rocking his boat.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him what he could do with his suggestion. Then he tried to bribe me.’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Jake McKittrick, Joe Hawke, Abel Stern and Martin Idle of Salton Estates. Oh, and Mrs Forsyth, Salton’s secretary. There was also an anonymous character on the telephone who said that if I didn’t quit I’d get the same as Ogilvie.’

  Hanna raised his eyebrows. ‘You should have told me about that. Were those his words – the same as Ogilvie – is that what he said?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But you were shot. That’s not the same as Ogilvie.’

  ‘The manner of my death won’t make any difference to me when I’m dead,’ I said tartly.

  Hanna sipped from his glass. ‘Good whisky,’ he said approvingly. ‘You’ve left someone out, Mr Kemp. Leotta Tomsson, 432 Gregory Plaza, Marshalltown.’

  Hanna was a crafty devil and not nearly as sleepy as he looked. ‘You know about her?’

  ‘I work on the political detail, Mr Kemp – seeing that visiting dignitaries don’t get shot full of too many holes, that sort of thing. To do that, I have to know who is likely to do the shooting. So we keep an eye on everybody. We ran security checks on Salton as a matter of routine after he came back to Campanilla. We came across Leotta Tomsson eighteen months ago.’