‘Good morning, Martin,’ says the elder of the two, his face wearing a frown as if it has been cast that way.
‘Morning, Martin,’ says his younger colleague, apparently unperturbed.
‘Morris. Ivan.’
‘In there?’ asks Lucic.
Martin nods.
The young detective grimaces and heads up the stairs to the house.
‘You okay?’ asks Montifore.
Martin shakes his head. Inside him, something is starting to move, to shift. Beside him on the bench, Eileen Fuller is staring out into the uncaring beauty of the day.
Forensics start moving up past them and into the house. Montifore offers Martin a last look of concern then follows the plastic-encased team. Martin looks at his watch: more than an hour has somehow disappeared. A young policewoman, voice gentle, guides Eileen away. Montifore comes back some undeterminable amount of time later, his face pallid. ‘You okay?’
The question makes no more sense the second time around. Martin can only shake his head.
‘Come on. Let’s sit in the car.’ Montifore leads him back down through the still-open gate. Martin pauses to close it after him. Montifore watches him closely.
Inside the car, the detective speaks. ‘You saw. Inside.’
Martin nods. ‘Yes. I saw.’ The words feel foreign on his tongue, a language belonging to some other tribe.
‘Accidental death, then suicide,’ says Montifore flatly.
That has his attention, bringing him into the present. ‘You think so?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Martin thinks it through. ‘If it was accidental, if Max choked, then surely the woman would have tried to free him, to revive him. Maybe if she failed, then she might have shot herself. But she didn’t try. He was still hanging there.’
Montifore examines him. Martin can feel the weight of the detective’s scrutiny, but he doesn’t care.
‘I agree,’ says Montifore. ‘Murder-suicide, then.’
‘Or made to look like it.’
Montifore lets more time pass. ‘What were you doing here?’
‘Max Fuller is my old editor. Semi-retired. He called to say he had a big story, wanted me to help with it. I couldn’t. Not with what happened with Mandy. Once I knew she was safe, I decided to drop round and tell him in person before we headed home.’
‘What was the story about?’
‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me over the phone.’
‘Nothing?’
Martin turns to look at him for the first time. ‘I asked him if he’d ever heard of Tarquin Molloy. He told me I should come and see him.’
‘When was this?’
‘Yesterday. When I was driving down. Mid-afternoon.’
‘And he knew about Molloy?’
‘He just said it was too big to discuss on the phone.’
‘Too big …’ he muses. ‘And that was the last time you spoke to him?’
‘I rang him last night, but it went through to voicemail.’
Now it’s Montifore’s turn to stare out the windscreen. When he returns his attention to Martin his face is stern, his voice heavy. ‘Mandalay Blonde encountered two men pretending to be policemen. They scared off her captors. Their names are Henry Livingstone and Joshua Spitt.’
‘And?’
‘These guys, they’re worse than ruthless. Psychotic. Livingstone killed his high school teacher at sixteen. Got out of prison in his mid-twenties, killed again. Spitt’s almost as bad. You need to get Mandy and get going. Back to Port Silver. Or New Zealand. Somewhere safe.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes.’
‘You think this is connected, that they killed Max?’
Montifore shrugs. ‘Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. But if whoever did kill your editor searched his phone, they would see he’s been talking with you.’ The policeman waits a couple of heartbeats before continuing. ‘This thing, whatever it is, it’s not finished. Livingstone and Spitt—these are men who operate in the shadows, using fear and intimidation. Now they’re out in the open; Livingstone even told Mandy his name. And I’m scared.’
‘What are you scared of?’
‘That more people are going to die.’
Through the windscreen Martin can see a helicopter come in low, close enough that he can see the camera operator in his harness. ‘Who was the other victim?’ he asks. ‘The woman with Max?’
Montifore begins to shake his head, then relents for some reason. ‘Not for publication?’
‘Agreed.’
‘Max Fuller’s sister-in-law, Elizabeth Torbett.’
‘Torbett? Isn’t she some sort of judge?’
‘New South Wales Supreme Court.’
‘Fuck me.’
Montifore leans forward, starts the car. ‘I’ll take you to the station. We’ll need a formal statement. Then you and Mandalay should make yourselves scarce. You and that boy of hers. If they’re killing Supreme Court judges, they’ll kill anyone.’
Martin waits until Montifore has navigated the smaller streets and is heading down Bellevue Road before he speaks. ‘How are Atticus Pons and George Giopolis connected to Molloy’s murder?’
Montifore looks at him, apprehension spread across his face, before returning his eyes to the road. Then he pulls over, bringing the car to a stop so he can give Martin his full attention. ‘Where did you hear those names?’
‘From you, as it happens.’
‘What?’
‘Winifred Barbicombe says you dropped them into an interview you conducted with Mandalay in Port Silver last year.’
Montifore says nothing, averts his eyes. Martin lets him stew on it; he’s not helping him out. The policeman is shaking his head as if in regret, some internal remonstration. Finally he turns back to Martin. ‘If you ever publish this, I’ll lose my job.’
‘Then I won’t publish it.’
‘Don’t even talk about it.’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘Did you ever wonder why I was sent to Port Silver last year to look into the death of a small-town real estate agent? I’m one of the state’s most senior investigators.’
‘We did. Winifred and I. We thought it might have something to do with Mandy.’
‘Correct.’ The policeman closes his eyes, squeezes them tight, an expression of discomfort, as if experiencing pain. ‘When I was assigned to the case, I was told to keep it out of the media.’
‘That worked well.’ Martin laughs at the memory of the media storm. Even Montifore cracks a smile. ‘Who assigned you?’
‘My boss. As usual. But I heard the request for me came all the way from the top. Roger Macatelli. Deputy commissioner. I asked around, spoke to a few trusted colleagues. A source told me your girl Mandy might be involved in some investigation
