‘Is Mr Andrew Harlow at home?’ said Taylor.
‘Who wants to know?’
‘I’m sure you can guess, Mrs Harlow.’ Jack leaned close to the speaker.
‘No idea.’
‘Yorkville Police.’ Jack again.
‘As it happens, he’s not here.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. Perhaps you could spare us five minutes of your time. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind–’
‘It’s OK, Detective Lisbon.’ Andy Harlow’s voice interrupted. ‘Louise’s rather protective of me. Please, come in.’
The detectives exchanged a puzzled look before the whisper-quiet automatic gates swung open.
‘She’s protective of him?’ Jack was incredulous. ‘The bloke could wrestle a water buffalo to the ground.’
‘I think it’s more a motherly type of protection.’ Taylor smiled.
‘Oh, right.’ Jack glanced up at the ubiquitous storm clouds. ‘Shall we go back and get the car?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, it’s only 30 metres to the front door.’
‘But it’s hot. And what if it’s raining when we’re leaving?’
‘Then we run. You’re on a keep-fit campaign, aren’t you?’
Jack failed to come up with an answer to that piece of logic. The front yard area was indeed modest, in size if not in its horticultural splendour, the bulk of the huge property was in the rear: Google Earth had shown an almost Olympic sized pool and a couple of acres of private rain forest. The beauty business must be booming.
An efficient maid who Jack guessed was from the Philippines served rich, flavoursome coffee. The best Jack had tasted in weeks. Maybe he should visit Harlow every day. Jack and Taylor sat on a feather-soft caramel leather lounge, Harlow and his wife opposite. The bear of a man contrasted starkly with the elfin Louise. She may have been anorexic thin, but there were traces of a former robust beauty lurking under that taut skin. Both husband and wife wore forced expressions that tried to be welcoming but didn’t quite pull it off. Jack sensed they wouldn’t be terribly upset if he and Taylor downed their coffees, asked their questions and buggered off as fast as possible.
‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ Louise held her fine china cup with her pinkie extended. She crossed one leg over the other tightly. Her grimace made you think she was busting for the toilet, but Jack guessed plastic surgery and Botox were the reasons for her bizarre facial expression. ‘We’ve never had a visit from the constabulary before, have we Andrew?’
‘Not that I recall.’
‘It’s about your husband’s missing colleague. I’m sure you’re aware Mr Bartlett disappeared around a week ago.’
‘I’m sure he’ll turn up.’ She tossed her shoulder length blonde hair one way then the other.
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Taylor, pen poised above her notebook. ‘How well do you know him?’
‘I hardly know him at all. My husband’s…hobby…is of little interest to me.’ Jack noted Andy flinch at the word hobby. ‘However Terry Bartlett’s reputation as a cheating womaniser is well known. I’m sure he’s shacked up with some bimbo or other and will resurface when he feels like it.’
Jack shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I have to disagree with your assessment, Mrs Harlow. The press has been giving lots of oxygen to this story. I’m sure Terry Bartlett would be aware of all the worry his disappearance has caused many people. Even his estranged son is concerned.’
‘Bullshit. Charlie hates his dad.’
‘I thought you said your husband’s…career… held little interest.’ Taylor took a sip of coffee, smacked her lips. ‘Perhaps you overstated things.’
‘I didn’t say no interest, did I?’ The terse woman was one of those literal people you can never pin down, Jack reflected. ‘Do listen. I know all about that philanderer’s home-wrecking ways. Not at all like my loyal Andrew.’ She rested her hand on the top of her husband’s.
‘I’m sure you’ve also heard of the death of Owen Kennedy,’ said Jack. ‘What can you tell us about him?’
‘Now hang on a minute.’ Andy Harlow rubbed a palm across his brow, beading sweat despite the air conditioning working perfectly. ‘You said you came here to talk to me, not my wife.’
‘She’s free to leave the room,’ Taylor said flatly. ‘No one is compelling her to stay.’
‘The absolute impertinence! Speaking about me in the third person like I’m not even here. This is my house and I’ll sit where I like.’
‘Indeed it is your house, Mrs Harlow,’ said Jack. ‘A lovely home it is, too. So lovely, in fact, I’m tempted to apply for a warrant to search it. We have reason to–’
‘Wait, wait, wait,’ Andy Harlow spluttered. ‘How about I come down to the station. My wife’s being completely honest when she says she’s ignorant of my working life. She’s only repeating gossip she hears from me when I get, you know, a bit down, a bit angry with the world. You know how it is.’
‘No I don’t,’ said Jack. ‘I’m single. Now, do you want a lift with us or can you make your own way to the station?’
‘How about you end this charade, Andy. Come clean and tell me exactly what the fuck’s going on.’ Jack tapped a biro on the table.
‘I’ve told you everything I know. Which is nothing.’
Jack took a deep breath, stood abruptly and paced back and forth behind his chair. Andy radiated calmness, belied only by sweat stains spreading under his armpits and across his chest. Mandarin polo shirt today to match fawn slacks, stylish for an overweight brute.
Time to rattle the cage. ‘Everything you’ve told me is a lie, isn’t it, sunshine? I don’t believe a word you say.’
‘Why not? Listen, I was on holiday in Sydney when Terry went missing. You can check if you like. Owen was probably murdered while we where there, too.’
‘Where exactly were you?’
‘I was with Louise and the kids.’
‘Not who, where!’
‘At my wife’s sister’s place in Manly. She’s got a lovely bungalow near the beach. The swimming’s better down there. No Irukandji jellyfish and no bloody crocs.’
‘Yeah, I heard the sharks ate them all.’
Harlow grinned and nodded. ‘Good one, Detective Lisbon. You’re a funny bastard.’
Jack ignored the compliment. ‘Can the sister corroborate that you were all there?’
‘Of course.’ Harlow held out his hands, palms open. ‘Ring her. Wendy Thompson’s her name. She’ll confirm we stayed there from the end of October until we flew back two nights ago.’
With the imprecise time established for Owen Kennedy’s death, any alibi was going to be useful for Harlow.
‘Write the number down.’ Jack tapped his fingernail on a Post-it note.
‘There. Happy?’
Taylor entered the interrogation room bearing coffee that smelled like burnt toast compared to the ambrosia served up at the Harlows’.
‘I’ll swap you one cup of mangrove sludge for a phone number.’ Jack handed Taylor the yellow sticky note. ‘Ring this woman and ask who her last visitors were.’ She gave him a polystyrene cup and scurried out of the room without saying a word.
‘Why did you go to Sydney?’ Jack turned his attention back to Harlow. ‘Seems a huge coincidence you being away right when Owen Kennedy gets himself killed and your partner goes walkabout.’
Harlow shrugged. ‘What can I say? That’s exactly what it is, a coincidence. We went there as a family to get away from stress.’
‘Stress?’
‘Yeah. I’m under constant pressure from the fighters, especially Danny. He’s a big tough man but he’s got some mental issues. He needs a lot of psychological care.’
‘I’m not surprised. Having your main rival knocked off and getting caught cheating with drugs will bugger up a man’s mind.’
‘He never had nothing to do with Owen’s death.’
‘Yeah? With Owen gone, Danny would be the champ by default, wouldn’t he?’
‘Ha
ha! Not for long. Jeremy Clifford’s waiting in the wings. Danny’s probably more worried about fighting Jeremy than Owen.’
‘Even though he could never defeat Owen?’
‘He was getting closer every fight. Next bout and Danny would’ve beaten him, no worries.’
‘Not everyone agrees with that.’
‘I can assure you, Danny would rather have fought Owen any day of the week. To be honest, even though Jeremy’s got no proper trainer yet, he has enough natural talent to beat anyone. He’s just waiting his turn. For that reason alone, Danny would be stupid to kill Owen before he had a chance to lift his crown.’
Lifted his ring, though. Harlow had a point Jack couldn’t easily argue. He’d seen Clifford sparring; the kid was destined for greatness.
‘That doesn’t get Danny off the hook as far as the drugs are concerned.’
‘Piss off detective. He was framed, everyone knows it. Danny’s never taken drugs in his life. He’s clean.’
‘The test said otherwise.’
‘I don’t trust the people who run the testing. They could tell you anything; how are you supposed to know what’s true and what’s not?’
‘Welcome to my world.’ Jack stretched his arms wide and yawned. They needed to pump more air into this little room. ‘The fact he got off with a small fine’s the bit I don’t understand. These days cheating athletes are generally made examples of, turned into pariahs. But Danny gets, what was it, a two grand fine and no suspension?’
‘Yeah. And that tells me the testing body hasn’t got a fucking clue. If they were sure he was positive, he would’ve been banned for years. Maybe life.’
‘What about the fact Terry Bartlett used to sit on the Association’s board? Maybe that led to Danny getting a light punishment, if you could even call it that.’
Harlow leaned back, crossed his arms. ‘You’d have to ask Terry that.’
Smart-arse. Maybe another approach would help crack this nut. Jack was sorely tempted to punch the man square in the mouth but he knew Batista was watching the entire show behind the glass. ‘Hang on a minute, will you Andy. I’ve just gotta have a slash.’
‘Don’t be long. I’ve booked a fancy restaurant for me and Louise tonight.’
Jack thought she’d be the cheapest of cheap dates: a small green salad and a glass of water would be enough to fill her up. ‘Be right back.’
‘Oi, where’s Lisbon? He said he’d be coming back.’
‘He’s been called away. Something’s come up that could crack this case wide open.’ It hadn’t, but that’s what Jack told her to say.
A scintilla of fear flashed across Harlow’s eyes. Was he thinking the police had found evidence to incriminate him? If so, he wasn’t saying. ‘You look a bit worried, Mr Harlow. Something you want to tell me?’
‘Ah, no. Why should there be?’
‘No reason. Anyway, perhaps you’ll be more forthcoming with a female asking you questions. DS Lisbon can be quite intimidating. He used to be a boxer back in the day.’
‘That might explain why he assaulted Danny. I won’t be letting that one go easily.’
‘Come on, Mr Harlow. We both know that kind of allegation won’t wash.’
The interviewee scowled but said nothing.
‘I’d hazard a guess Louise runs a pretty tight ship, keeps you in line, am I right?’
The fear on Harlow’s face was replaced by tightening lines of confusion. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘We understand it’s your wife who provides for your, how shall I put it, luxurious lifestyle.’
‘Louise has a successful business, it’s true. But I pull my weight, too.’
‘Fifty-fifty, is it?’
‘Listen, I’ve just about had enough of your innuendo. If you’re implying I consider myself less of a man because my wife makes more money than I do, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m a firm believer in equal rights. If Louise is the main breadwinner, big deal.’
Taylor coughed into her fist, then scribbled a meaningless doodle on a notepad. ‘I didn’t mean to offend. Just a few more questions and we’ll be done.’
‘Good.’
‘We rang your sister-in-law and she confirms your story.’
‘For fuck’s sake! It’s not a story, it’s the truth. If you want copies of my airline bookings, credit card statement, you can have the bloody lot.’
‘Again, I apologise.’
‘Accepted, but only because you aren’t rude like that bastard Lisbon.’ Harlow glanced at his watch. ‘I really have to be going soon.’
‘A couple more background questions that might help us get into Terry’s mindset. You know him better than just about anyone. Do you think he would go underground like your wife suggested? Perhaps he snuck off somewhere with a woman, to get away from it all, like you did with your family.’
‘I guess.’
Dammit, he was going all tight-lipped.
‘What about your own personal relationship with Bartlett.’
‘Professional on all levels. I trust him and he trusts me. We supplement each other: he teaches the skills, I look after the motivation.’
‘So you aren’t friends?’
‘Yeah, I guess you could say we are. We don’t hang together outside of work, but at work we’re mates, for sure.’
‘What about his romantic affairs?’
‘His business.’
‘Is there a woman he could be secretly staying with?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Last question. Do you know of anyone who would want to cause harm to Owen Kennedy or Terry Bartlett?’
‘No. Both men were respected and well liked in the MMA fraternity. Who they mixed with outside of that is none of my business. I could only speculate a jealous husband might want to take out their anger on Terry, but that’s it.’
‘Did Owen have a girlfriend?’
‘Hey, that’s another question.’
‘Can you answer it please? Then you can go.’
‘He did, yeah. A sweetheart back in Perth. I heard he was making arrangements for her to join him in Yorkville in time for Christmas. Absolute tragedy for all concerned.’
Taylor failed to detect an iota of sincerity in Harlow’s words. ‘Thanks for your time, Mr Harlow. And since you so kindly offered, we would like copies of your travel bookings and credit card statements.’
Before he could reply, the door flew open, the handle banging on the wall.
‘Please remain seated, Mr Harlow,’ said Jack. ‘You aren’t going anywhere.’
Chapter 19
‘What’s the hell’s going on?’ Harlow screwed up his eyes. ‘Your partner said we were done.’
‘Sorry, sunshine.’ Jack offered his best consolation smile. ‘Not yet. There’s one more thing I want to discuss with you, if you don’t mind.’
‘No.’ Harlow’s growl set Jack’s teeth on edge. ‘I’m gonna be late for a dinner date with my wife.’ A twitch pulsated in the man’s left eye.
‘Don’t stress. If you’re straight with us, you’ll make your dinner date with time to spare.’
‘All right, get on with it then.’ A squeak crept into Harlow’s usually deep voice.
‘I’m not going to beat around the bush, Andy. I’ve discovered your little secret.’ Jack took off his jacket and hung it over the spine of his chair, which he spun around and sat on backwards.
Harlow’s cheeks glowed red. ‘I have no secrets. I’m an open book.’
‘I may’ve overstated that a tad.’ Jack sighed through puffed cheeks. ‘Let’s call it a problem then.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Harlow stood, hands on the table. ‘Enough is enough.’
Jack nodded at Taylor who moved to block the door. Symbolic, but the message was clear. ‘I’ll decide when this discussion is over, not you, understood? You leave now without answering some important questions, and I’ll make damned sure what I’ve found out becomes public knowledge. There’s
a certain TV reporter who’d love to get her grubby little hands on the information I’ve stumbled on. A weekend feature in the Yorkville Times would soon follow, I’m guessing. Embarrassing for you, Mrs Harlow, probably your kids.’
A shadow of horrified understanding passed across Harlow’s face. He resumed his seat slowly, let out a deep breath.
‘You can probably guess where I’m heading with this.’ Jack coughed into a fist, opened a manila folder and scanned a couple of A4 sheets. ‘While you were so kindly answering DC Taylor’s questions, I took the liberty of delving into your wife’s business affairs.’
‘You have no right to–’
‘Uh-uh.’ Jack waggled his forefinger like Beyoncé in the “Single Ladies” video. ‘I have every right. You’re a person of interest in a murder investigation and a missing person enquiry. I have every…fucking…right…to look into whatever I want. Do you understand?’
‘A person of interest? Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Indeed you are. Of immense interest.’
Harlow shrugged. ‘How can I be? First it’s Danny, now me. You’re clutching at straws.’
‘We prefer to call it being thorough. Surely you, a fine upstanding member of the sporting community, would expect us to investigate properly. You should be grateful we’re doing all we can to find your partner and solve a murder. The problem I have with you, Andy, is how you’re acting all suspicious, your body language is all wrong, son. And that’s why I know you’ve got something to hide.’
‘If you were serious, you would’ve charged me officially with…something.’
‘We’re serious, all right.’ Jack glanced at Taylor. ‘Wanna know what I found out, Claudia?’
‘I’m dying to hear it. Whatever it is has got Mr Harlow in a terrible fluster.’
‘What I learned is that Lou-Har Pty Ltd is slipping further and further into the red and is currently on the verge of bankruptcy. The company’s been haemorrhaging cash for months. The only thing saving it is intricate corporate structuring. I’m predicting soon her whole empire will come crashing down.’
Kill Shot Page 13
