Yesterday’s Shadow. Jon Cleary
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not large. The State College is there. She was born there, her father worked for the college – not an academic, he was just some worker around the grounds.’
‘She went to college? Graduated there?’
‘No. Her parents were killed in an auto accident when she was – I’m a bit hazy here – seventeen or eighteen. She was an only child. She left Corvallis and went out to San Francisco. Look, why all the background?’
‘Mr Pavane, we’re puzzled why she booked into a hundred-dollar-a-night hotel, under an assumed name. I take it that isn’t the usual sort of hotel she’d stay at?’
‘No-o. I’m just as puzzled as you are. We’ve never been short of money. I’m comfortable –’ Meaning he was wealthy; or, in Australian terms, rich. ‘Billie liked the best – she was frank about that and I didn’t mind. My first wife was the same. Women are like that.’
He wasn’t entirely a diplomat: the three Malone women would have had reservations about him after that remark. But Malone was diplomatic: ‘Yes, I guess they are. Had your wife been married before? She was what – in her late thirties?’
‘Thirty-eight. No, she hadn’t been married. She’d had boyfriends, but she had never settled for a husband. She was too busy making her career, she said. I – well, I accepted that. I didn’t talk about my first wife and she didn’t talk about her ex-boyfriends. You’re a married man, you know how it is.’
Not yet: I haven’t been home so far. ‘You said you met in politics. Did she have political ambitions?’
‘No, not at all. Not as far as running for office. We were working together on last year’s presidential campaign – there were hints of an ambassadorship for me and that excited her. We thought of one of the smaller countries in Europe. Denmark, maybe – I’d been to Copenhagen when I was at university in England and I’d liked it. Then the President named Australia – he thought I had certain talents, connections, that would work out here.’
‘And your wife liked that? I understand she’d been out here.’
Pavane looked puzzled again. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Miss Caporetto. She went to lunch with your wife and your wife told her she’d been here on a quick business trip some years ago.’
Pavane shook his head emphatically. ‘Miss Caporetto must’ve got it wrong. My wife didn’t want to come here.’
‘Why not?’
Pavane almost smiled, took his time. ‘Do you want me to be frank or diplomatic, Inspector?’
‘Frank, sir. I’m not so nationalistic that I think this is Utopia. One of our Prime Ministers once said not to forget we were at the arse-end of the world. Or words to that effect.’
The Ambassador did smile this time, though it was an effort. ‘Those were the words my wife used. Though she pronounced it ass-end.’
‘In the end she changed her mind?’
‘It took a lot of persuasion on my part.’ He was silent a long moment and Malone let him take his time. Then: ‘How much do we have to tell the media?’
‘Just the facts, sir. How she was murdered, who she is. Nothing more than that. We don’t have to tell them what happened beforehand.’
Pavane was grateful: ‘You’re an understanding man, Inspector.’
Malone nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Why did she come to Sydney on this particular trip?’
‘She wanted to go to the New South Wales Art Gallery. There’s an exhibition on there – the best of Australian art. Back home in Kansas City she’s on the board of the Nelson Gallery – that’s our main gallery. My father bought and donated paintings to it. She’s on leave of absence, but she’d told the board she would look at this collection – we don’t see much Australian art in our Mid-West.’
‘Righto, sir. We’ll see if she ever got to the gallery. As for what I’ve told you about last night, we’ll keep a lid on it as much as possible.’
‘Is there likely to be a leak from – well, the morgue staff?’
‘The DDFM –’ He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “The Deputy Director of Forensic Medicine, she did the post-mortem –’
‘I met her at the morgue.’
‘She’s a close personal friend of me and my wife and she’s the wife of my second-in-command at Homicide. She would sack anyone who talked out of turn to the media.’
‘Good enough. I apologize for questioning them. Will you tell Joe Himes?’
‘I’m afraid I’ll have to, sir, if he’s to work with us. But no one else.’ He stood up, put out his hand as the other man rose. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do everything I can to keep the dirt out of this. It’s not going to be a tabloid carnival.’
‘I’m going back to Canberra this afternoon. I want the body of my wife shipped back to Kansas City – I’ll go with her. Dr Clements, your friend, said they would release her within the next day or two, soon as the post-mortem is finished. There’ll be a press release put out from the embassy when I get back this afternoon. It will say as little as possible.’
‘We’ll try to do the same at this end, sir. You’ll be coming back from Kansas City?’
Pavane hesitated. ‘I’ll think about it. I really loved my wife, Mr Malone – we were very happy together. I have to get used to the idea that she is gone.’ Just before he opened the door to go out he turned. ‘Thanks, Mr Malone.’
Malone could only nod.
2
The Consul-General’s office was a bustle of departure. Random left at the same time as the Ambassador, DCM Kortright and RSO Bodine. Malone and Himes borrowed Ms Caporetto’s office again. Malone stood at the window gazing down on Martin Place at the ants coming back from lunch. There had been the usual lunchtime concert in the small amphitheatre in the middle of the tree-lined plaza and the musicians were packing their gear and moving on to – what? And what were all the human ants scurrying to? From here on the 59th level destiny was a distant prospect. He turned back to Himes: ‘Joe, what are your feelings on destiny?’
Himes was seated in the chair behind the desk, the presiding chair. Pull your head in, Malone, he’s not taking over. ‘I never worry about destiny. That’s for judges and juries.’
Malone grinned: he was going to like this man. ‘Righto –’
‘Righto? I thought only upper-class Englishmen said that. You know – “Righto, old chap.”’
‘If I’d been born an upper-class Englishman, my dad would’ve strangled me at birth. He’s never been near Ireland, but he’s an Irish patriot – more so than my mother, who was born there. No, righto has just stuck to my tongue since I was a kid.’
‘What do you say when things are okay?’
‘Okay.’
Himes gazed at Malone and after a long pause said, ‘I think you and I are gonna get along, Scobie.’
‘I hope so, Joe. We’re going to need help – a lot of it.’ He sat down, then told Himes of the intimate personal side of the Pavane murder. ‘We’re not putting out anything about that – our media would make a meal of it.’
‘Not just yours. Ours, too.’
‘There’s something else besides the sex bit. Mrs Pavane has some mystery about her, something that seems to puzzle even the Ambassador. Does the FBI have a bureau in Oregon?’
Himes smiled; he had big white teeth that seemed to alter