CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The next morning, Gary sat in his office reading an article on the internet about whether to give milk to a cat. High-powered experts were lined up on both sides of the issue. He'd almost finished when Terry Burke phoned his mobile.
Gary answered the call. "Hello, Terry."
Terry sounded unusually stressed. "Hi, mate. I just got a call from Madeline Arnott. She said a Homicide detective contacted her last night and said one of the bodies found in the beach house is Patrick's. The detective said all three people in the house were shot dead, but they've got no leads."
Gary's stomach dropped. "Shit. How did she take it?"
"Very upset, of course, poor dear. I'm going over to her place to see her."
"Will you tell her what really happened?"
"Of course not. You want to keep that quiet and I understand that - I really do."
"Thanks."
Gary hung up, feeling guilty about hiding from Madeline Arnott what happened at the beach house. But if he told her the truth, there was a big risk she would get upset and go to the police. Then his whole life would turn black and white. He had seen lots of people pass through the criminal justice system and knew the innocent suffered the most.
Gary felt too distracted to return to the internet article. Instead, to burn some energy, he went shopping for a couple of pairs of jeans. He'd just got back to his office with his purchases, an hour later, when he got another call from Terry; he answered it with some trepidation. "Yes, Terry?"
Terry's voice was dark. "Umm, Gary, I'm with Madeline Arnott right now."
"Really?"
"Yes. And, umm, she wants to chat with you."
Damn. "Chat? What about?"
"I'd better let her explain. Can you come over to her house right now?"
Terry obviously couldn't warn Gary what Madeline Arnott wanted to discuss because she was in earshot. Bloody hell. What was this about? But he could hardly refuse. "OK, I'll be straight over. What's the address?"
Terry gave Gary an address in Woollahra.
"Alright, I'll be there shortly."
"Good. We'll be waiting."
It took Gary 30 minutes to drive to the address he was given. He spent most of the journey wondering what Madeline Arnott wanted to talk about and eventually gave up. He'd find out soon enough.
Madeline Arnott's home was a modest Californian bungalow on a quiet tree-lined street. Gary strolled up a snaking flagstone path, took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer. After about ten seconds, the door swung open and Gary found himself looking at a dour-faced Terry.
Terry said: "Thanks for coming. Madeline's in the living room."
"What's this about?" Gary whispered.
A shrug. "She'll tell you."
Gary followed Terry up the hallway and into the living room. Its marble fireplace, oriental carpet, intricate floral wallpaper, ornate drapes and solid oak furniture obviously tried to mimic the original 1900s interior. Madeline Arnott was perched on the edge of a damask sofa; she had red eyes and a crumpled handkerchief in her right fist.
She looked up at Gary. "Thank you for coming."
"It's no problem."
Terry sat on another couch and pointed to an armchair. "You'd better sit over there."
Gary sat and studied Madeline Arnott for some sign she was upset with him. He saw grief without anger. "Umm, I'm sorry to hear that your son died. Please accept my commiserations."
She sat up straight, put her hands in her lap and sounded a little distant. "Thank you. I knew that Patrick might be dead and tried to prepare myself. But when the policeman contacted me yesterday, I was shocked. And then I heard that Patrick was shot dead, with two other people, in a burnt-out house. I couldn't believe it."
"Yes, ah, Terry mentioned that. Do the police have any idea what happened?"
She sat even straighter. "Not really. The detective said the other bodies in the house were Robert Merton and a stand-over man called Michael Oliphant. They're not sure who killed who, and they think a fourth person started the fire and ran away. That's all they know."
"And you couldn't help them?"
"No, except to say Patrick worked for Merton. The detective sounded rather surprised about that."
Gary's chest tightened. "Did you, umm, mention that you employed me to find Patrick?"
"No, that didn't come up. Of course, at first, I was too stunned to think about what happened in the beach house." She stared at Gary. "Then, this morning, I realised that Robert Merton was in the news because someone took a file about Angus Trewaley from his firm and put it on the internet. So I wondered if Patrick took the file and that was why he disappeared. I mean, it was the sort of silly and immature thing he would do."
Gary sensed that he had under-estimated Madeline Arnott. Despite her tennis tan, frozen features and dronish lifestyle, she was far savvier than he thought. "I suppose that's possible."
"And, if he took the file, Merton would have tried to get it back. So maybe Merton caught Patrick and took him up to the beach house to punish him."
Yes, he definitely had under-estimated her. His lips went dry. "That sounds plausible."
Her eyes narrowed. "But that leaves a couple of big questions."
"Oh, like what?"
"Merton obviously killed Patrick. But who killed Merton and the stand-over man? And who burnt down the beach house? It must have been the fourth person the detective talked about."
Something wet crawled across the nape of Gary's neck. "I suppose so. Maybe he worked for Merton."
"He couldn't have."
"Why not?"
"Because, if he did, he wouldn't have shot Merton, would he? No, the fourth person must have been on Patrick's side. That's why he killed Merton and his henchman."
The wet slug veered down Gary's back. "Patrick's side? How's that possible?"
Her stare intensified. "I've got a theory."
"Really?"
Her eyes gleamed. "Yes. I think you were the fourth person."
Shit. Gary's time as an undercover cop made him a good liar. Now, he summoned up that talent and locked eyes with her. "Me? I wasn't the fourth person. I wasn't even there. That's crazy talk."
"Is it? You were chasing after Patrick and were the only person who might have tried to save him. You know, before I hired you, Terry said you're very resourceful and don't take a backward step. You didn't take a backward step at the beach house, did you?"
"You're mistaken - very mistaken. I wasn't there."
"Yes you were. But don't worry Mr Maddox, I understand your predicament: you're afraid that, if you tell me what happened, I'll go to the police. I promise you that, if you do, I won't." A pleading look. "I just want to know what happened to my son."
Half of Gary admired her perspicacity, while the other half desperately considered his options. He could, of course, keep lying. After all, she couldn't prove anything. But it would be undignified to keep doing so and he felt obliged to help relieve her pain. Anyway, if he didn't come clean, she would probably take her suspicions to the police. Time to lay at least some cards on the table. He wouldn't tell her everything - just what she needed to know.
He took a deep breath and glanced at Terry, who nodded. "Alright, Madeline, I'll be frank with you. But you must promise that, if I tell you what happened at the beach house, you'll keep it to yourself."
Her chin wobbled with emotion. "Don't worry, I will."
"OK. But first, I apologise for not telling you what happened before now. I did some things that could get me into a lot of trouble. I was afraid you'd talk to the police."
"I understand, I really do. But don't worry, I won't talk."
He started to relax. "Good. Then I'll tell you what happened. I won't tell you everything, just the important stuff if that's alright?"
"That's fine."
"OK then, you're right: Patrick stole the Trewaley file from Merton & Co. When I caught up with him, at a terrace in Alexandria, I asked him why he did that and he said it w
as his Christian duty to expose Trewaley. Unfortunately, he gave me the slip - he went back to his apartment to save his cat, of all things - and a couple of Merton's thugs grabbed him. They took him up to the beach house. I found out and followed Merton up there. When I arrived, I heard shots inside the house. I ran into the living room, but Patrick was already dead."
He didn't want to reveal that Patrick actually died in his presence, in a cross-fire, in case she blamed him for his death. So he put a little distance between himself and it.
"Then you shot Merton and one of the thugs?"
"They shot at me and I shot back. I got first prize."
A savage smile. "Good, good. But you said there were two thugs."
"Oh, yes. One of them got away."
"What happened to him?"
"He expired soon afterwards."
A savage gleam in her eyes. "Excellent. That's good news. Thank you - thank you very much - for risking your life to save my son and killing his murderers. It's a great relief to know the scum are dead. But why didn't you tell the police what happened? Why did you burn down the house?"
"Because, in this state, if you shoot someone, you're almost always put on trial for murder. No ifs or buts. Then you've got to prove you acted in self-defence or whatever. No thank you. I don't trust juries and had no intention of letting one decide my fate."
"I understand. Well, don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Like I said, I'm profoundly grateful to you for what you did."
Gary felt a great burden fall away. He didn't have to hide the truth from Madeline Arnott anymore and sensed she would honour her promise to keep quiet. "Thank you. I'm just sorry I didn't save Patrick."
Her eyes misted over. "Don't worry, I know you did everything you could. Patrick was a lovely son, but I'm afraid he was a bit, umm, immature. He got himself into a situation he couldn't handle."
"Well, at least you know he got into trouble doing the right thing. I mean, if I stole that file, I would have handled the situation a bit differently. But, in the end, he exposed Trewaley and destroyed his career."
"Yes, that is comforting. Did you put the file on the internet?"
"Yes, I worked out where Patrick left it and pinned it up."
"You've been very busy. All I asked you to do was find my son."
A smile. "I can't stay out of trouble."
Terry said: "I'll vouch for that."
She said: "Now, I hope you will send me a bill for your services. I would like to pay it as soon as possible."
Gary shrugged. "Don't worry. This one is gratis."
A frown. "No, I want to pay it."
Gary accidentally acquired $200,000 while doing the job. It would be cheap to ask for more. "Look, I won't accept any more of your money. But you have paid an advance. Why don't I keep that and we'll call it quits?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. And I've got your son's cat. Do you want him back?"
"Oscar?"
"Yes. Do you want him back?"
She shrugged. "Do you want to keep him?"
"Yes, if you don't mind. I kind of like him."
A quick smile. "Then please do. He's all yours."
Gary felt relieved. "Thanks. I'll take good care of him."
"I'm sure you will, though you don't strike me as a cat person."
Terry interjected: "I agree with that."
Gary sighed. "I wish people would stop saying that."