‘Why?’ Kay was close but keeping clear of the pocket that held the gun.
‘Who knows, this assassin here might have a mate. Did you see any signs of a dog when you were at the party?
She thought. ‘No.’
‘Me neither, but let’s have a poke around.’
The only car at home was a nice, conservative white Volvo.
That probably meant Keir was on his own; Baudin senior wouldn’t drive himself and I hadn’t seen any cars out on the street that might belong to any extra muscle. We went around the back to where the memory of the party lingered on. One of the barbecues still emitted a dull glow and a few paper plates floated on the surface of the pool like pale lily pads. There’d been a clean-up; bottles and glasses had been collected and there was no food lying about but it looked as if the work had been interrupted.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s go in the front door.’
‘My arm feels stiff,’ Rogers moaned.
‘Good. Behave yourself and you’ll be in hospital before dawn.’
‘I’m cold,’ he said.
We got back to the nice, moonlit path and walked up it to the flagstoned porch in front of the house. I took out the H amp;R and thumbed the catch back and forward a few times.
‘Put that bloody thing away Cliff, please,’ Kay said.
‘It’s just for show.’
I rang the bell twice and we waited until a light came on in the house. There were footsteps inside near the door and Keir’s voice came through blearily.
‘Who is it?’
I tapped Rogers’ good elbow with the gun.
‘Raymond Rogers.’
The door opened before the porch light came on which is always a mistake. I had my foot in the door while Keir was still focusing on Rogers’ face.
‘What…’ he said.
‘It’s no time for the snappy dialogue Baudin,’ I said. ‘Your friend here didn’t go about things in the right way.’ I pushed him back into the house and shepherded Rogers and Kay through the door. Keir was wearing a paisley dressing gown over his pyjamas; without the built-up shoes he was gnome-like. I switched out the porch light which left us with the soft, expensive lighting in the hall. Rogers leaned against the wall and a trickle of blood ran down it towards the carpet. Kay stood with her back against the door. In the sailor-suit dress and with her face pale and eyes dark she looked like a tragic mime. The scene terrified Keir Baudin.
‘Rogers,’ he stammered, ‘why are you…’
I made a backing motion with the gun and he backed. ‘Anyone here?’
‘My father.’
‘Where?’
He shuffled along the carpet and pointed to a door near the end of the hallway. We trooped down and I opened the door quietly. There was a night light on and its beam was falling directly on the old man’s lobster pink skull. He was lying on his back and snoring softly; his cream clothes were folded neatly over a chair and his teeth were in a glass.
I told Baudin we wanted the sitting room and he shuffled off obediently. The room was big with an elaborate ceiling rose, too many pictures on the walls and fussy furniture. Baudin was staring at Rogers as we sat down and he was licking his lips nervously. Kay went out and came back after a few minutes with a towel which she handed to Rogers; he dabbed at the blood and improvised a pillow for the arm. He didn’t look at her or thank her.
‘Let’s make this fast,’ I said to Baudin. ‘Rogers made a mess of things, he assaulted Miss Fletcher and we could press charges against him and you. I don’t think you’d like that.’
‘No.’
‘Also he’s in danger of losing his arm. The quicker you tell me things the quicker he gets treatment.’
‘He means it,’ Rogers whispered. ‘He means it, Mr Baudin.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Now what’s your problem, why all this aggravation?’
‘Well, Warwick…’ He stopped and it took a moan from Rogers to start him again but after that it came out fairly steadily. Warwick was blackmailing him. He’d lied about the last communication he’d had from him, now he produced it — a note scrawled on a postcard which was unstamped so it must have come in an envelope. It was undated:
Keir,
This will be the last time I ask you for money, I swear it. I’m on to something big but I need a decent appearance. $1,500 will do. Send it c/- Honey 10a Clark Street Darlinghurst. Last time I promise. When I get the money I’ll send your stuff back.
The note wasn’t signed. I felt a surge of excitement at this nasty bit of work, but the timing was all- important.
‘When did you get this?’ Baudin looked relieved to get a question he could answer.
‘A year ago, or a bit less.’
‘Did you pay him?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he have on you?’
The relief subsided, this was harder. He looked down at his tiny blue-veined feet. ‘Sexual things,’ he muttered.
I thought about it and didn’t like it much. Sending Rogers was an over-reaction even if he thought I was in collusion with Warwick; there had to be something more. I brought my hand up to rub my face and realised I was still holding the gun. Baudin jumped at the movement and shrank back in his chair.
‘Christ you’re jumpy. You’re hiding something. Did he send you whatever it was, this… stuff he talks about?’
‘No. He was always a cheat and a liar.’
‘And you’re an upright man, I suppose.’ I was feeling weary and out of ideas. I looked across at Kay who moved her shoulders in a sort of shrug. Suddenly I was angry, furious at the little creep and his thug who’d made me act like a sadist. I felt dirty and cheap and had to take it out somehow.
‘Why did you send Rogers after us?’
‘I told you,’ Baudin said. ‘I thought you and Warwick…”
‘Crap! I want the real reason.’
Baudin just stared at me and I forced myself to smile and relax in the chair.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘We’ll just sit here until I get it. That okay with you Raymond?’
‘Jesus,’ Rogers croaked. ‘Mr Baudin, this arm’s on fire. Talk to him, for God’s sake. I’ve got to get help.’ Baudin said nothing and Rogers screamed: ‘Talk to him!’ Kay had the look I’d seen on her face when I’d clobbered Rogers. She was on my side but scared of me too. I felt I was losing the grip and getting dirtier.
‘You talk to me,’ I said to Rogers. ‘Give me a clue, I’m easily satisfied.’
‘Indonesia,’ Rogers said. ‘Indonesian oil, he’s…’
‘Rogers, don’t…’
‘You shut up!’ I waved at Baudin with the gun hand. ‘What about Indonesia? Give us a bit more.’
Kay was leaning forward in her chair, professionally alert. Rogers wet his lips and his eyes bulged with the effort of talking.
‘He’s cleaning up money for them, using his father’s companies. He thought you might be on to him. I don’t know much about it, I swear. It’s a lot of money. Jesus God my arm!’
I stood up and beckoned to Kay. ‘We’re leaving,’ I said to Baudin. ‘Mucking around with Indonesian Colonels is about your style. I don’t give a damn. But if you’ve lied to me about your brother I’ll come back and see you. You’d better get him to hospital.’
Kay and I walked out and I put the revolver back in my pocket along with Warwick Baudin’s note. I could feel the nervous energy in Kay as she walked beside me, her shoulder and head nearly on a level with mine. She was steady and keen and I suddenly wished that I was on my own, that I could just get in the car and drive off. By
