Dilemma by Jon Cleary

Author:Jon Cleary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AudioGO
Published: 2013-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

II

“Not necessarily,” said Tilly Orbost. “We don’t know if she was the one who wanted the child. It could have been him. I want to know a lot more about both of them before I point the finger.”

Malone had invited Gallup into Homicide to meet Tilly Orbost. There was no mention that she had arrived the previous day. Gallup knew of the Bureau of Criminal Intelligence and its work in investigative analysis and he was not wary of it. He seemed impressed, in more ways than one, with Tilly.

“I’ve got Constable Dallen working on that,” said Clements, one of the four in Malone’s office. Sitting beside Gallup on the couch, both of them looking up at Tilly in the higher chair opposite Malone. “They’re both celebrities—” He held up his hands, fingers crooked in quote symbols. “We’ll get the surface stuff with no trouble. Underneath?” He dropped his hands, spread them. “That may take a little time.”

“Why has Vanheusen disappeared?” asked Gallup. “His Range Rover has been found, out at the airport. We’ve checked the manifest of every plane that went out last night after ten o’clock, but his name wasn’t on any of them. He wouldn’t have to produce identification to buy a domestic ticket.”

“Wouldn’t someone have recognized him?” asked Tilly. “You said he’s a celebrity.”

“Celebrities are a dime a dozen—they invent themselves, them and a paparazzo or two.” Clements had a low opinion of them.

“Depends who was on the airline desk,” said Gallup. “Say it’s an older guy, someone like Russ here—”

“Thanks,” said Clements.

Gallup grinned. He’s becoming more relaxed, thought Malone, fitting into the team. Or letting us fit into his team. “Russ, do you follow the fashion news? Neither do I. He might of been cunning enough to pick someone like that. We’ve got Immigration on the lookout for him, but he could of caught a plane to anywhere in Australia. Then what does he do? Shave off that lairy haircut of his and his moustache, find out where he can buy a passport. And—” he made a spitting noise with closed lips—“he’s gone.”

“Is Damien Vanheusen his real name?” asked Clements. “If he had another name, maybe he has a passport in that one. Are people born with names like Damien Vanheusen?”

“They are these days,” said Malone. “He wouldn’t have a shaven head in an earlier passport. That fashion’s only come in since the gays decided to save money on haircuts.”

Tilly smiled. “A nest of homophobes.”

The men all smiled in return, safe in their own estimation of their tolerance.

“Righto, it’s a late fashion. He’s been Damien Vanheusen for at least the last ten years, we know that. He could’ve shaved off his mo and worn a cap when he bought his ticket.”

“He didn’t use a credit card,” said Clements. “Seven people paid cash on the various counters. Three to Melbourne, two to Brisbane, one to Cairns, one to Perth. But no one remembers what any of the cash customers looked like.”

Malone pondered a while, then asked, “Would he have shot through because he’s scared of her?”

“You may be right,” said Tilly.

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