Crown 2, page 14
part #2 of Crown Series
‘How was that again about who was using who?’ Crown asked wryly.
‘We all make mistakes,’ Jenny answered curtly.
‘Trying to recoup your losses from Tiroa would have been a lulu,’ Chang said.
Jenny became miserable again and hung her head in a half nod. But it wasn’t that at all. Just a gesture of how she felt about making another confession. ‘I didn’t go to see him for money,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I told Kai that’s what I intended. But really I went to tell Tiroa where Kai was waiting for me. He deserves something like that after what he did.’ She gave Chang a sidelong glance. ‘But you got to his house just after me, and I hid in the bushes.’
‘What about the murder last night?’ Crown wanted to know.
‘It was as I told you. But I know the girl was brought to the Stardust. The room next to mine has been empty a long time. While the Dutch sailor was with me, I heard noises in there. But no screams or anything like that.’
‘And this morning? Conning a ferry ride out of the man?’
‘I was frightened. About the dead girl. Of you. Of Kai. The Macao ferry berth is close to the bar. A boat was just leaving. I didn’t know anybody saw me.’
Crown rose from the chair and stretched, as if he had been sitting there for a day and a night instead of thirty minutes. ‘That’s Po for you,’ he said lightly. ‘When he goes after a girl, he never lets up.’ He leaned on the desk. ‘What kind of authorization do we need to pay Gold a visit, Captain?’
Aravjo tapped the breast pocket of his neatly tailored jacket. ‘My police card.’ He pointed towards Jenny. ‘What about her?’
‘Extradition is a long, drawn-out business,’ Crown replied. ‘Bloody nuisance. Hardly worth the effort for a small-time blackmailer.’
The captain gave his familiar nod. ‘All right, you can go,’ he told the woman.
She swallowed hard. ‘But only Ng is dead,’ she shrilled. ‘The other man—the one with the gun—is still free.’
‘You want to be locked up?’ Aravjo asked lightly.
She furrowed her brow in thought, then gulped again. ‘I’d like police protection to the ferry so I can go back to Hong Kong. I know places to hide in Hong Kong.’
The Portuguese looked at the Australian.
‘Ask my partner,’ Crown said. ‘Most of the time he’s a gentleman. I might do something I’d regret later.’
Jenny’s bovine eyes looked pleadingly at Chang.
‘Give her that much,’ Chang agreed.
‘A gentleman,’ Crown said with over-emphasized pride. ‘Can we fix it on the way to see Gold?’
Aravjo did so, arranging with the smartened-up, uniformed man in the lobby to escort Jenny Lau back to the ferry berth. Then the three detectives waited out on the sunlit pavement for the captain’s car to be brought to the front of the building. It was more crowded outside now, for the time was past noon and the surrounding buildings were pitching out their occupants for the lunch break.
‘Which way does our man live?’ Chang asked.
Captain Aravjo pointed south west up the steeply inclined Rua Central. The high ground of Colina da Barra showed through the heat haze in the distance. Macao did not have so many peaks and ridges as Hong Kong, but enough to serve Chang’s good humoured purpose.
‘It wasn’t only they went thataway that used to be said in the old-time Westerns,’ he said to Crown.
The Australian was deep in thought, but surfaced to invite: ‘Hit me, Po.’
‘How about there’s Gold in them there hills?’ the Chinese supplied.
‘Ain’t he the funniest Chink you ever met?’ Crown asked of Aravjo.
‘Very funny,’ the captain replied, and smiled politely.
Chapter Thirteen
THE VILLA OVERLOOKING the sea on Rua da Praia Grande gleamed starkly white in the sunlight. The big black Mercedes parked beside it was dull by comparison but would soon outshine the house. For the stockily-built Chinese chauffeur was in the process of waxing it. He was stripped to the waist and just on the point of attacking the dried polish with a cloth as the police car halted. The official vehicle was unmarked but the chauffeur eyed its disembarking passengers with the expression of one who knew the score.
‘Nobody here but me and the maid,’ he said gruffly as Aravjo led the way towards the wrought iron gate guarding the porch.
‘Where’s Gold?’ the local detective wanted to know, matching the chauffeur’s unfriendly stare.
‘Gone away.’
The three detectives moved away from the gate and aligned themselves in front of the chauffeur.
‘Where?’ Crown asked.
‘I just drive the boss’s car.’ A shrug. ‘He don’t confide in me.’
‘He must tell you where to drive him,’ Chang pointed out.
‘And if I told everyone what he told me, I’d be out of a job.’ He glared at Chang as if he had a special enmity towards his fellow-countryman for being a cop.
Aravjo delved into his breast pocket and showed the chauffeur his police card. ‘We’re not everyone. We’re special. And if you don’t answer our questions, losing your job will be the least of your worries.’
A flicker of fear rose through the man’s uncomfortable nervousness. The boss took a cab,’ he said suddenly.
‘You know how big Macao is?’ the Captain asked Crown.
‘About five square miles,’ Chang replied.
‘He’s a bright boy,’ Crown said.
‘That’s about right,’ Aravjo allowed. ‘One tip of an island with the sea on three sides and the Barrier Gate to keep us out of Red Chinese territory in the north. Not really the kind of place where you need a chauffeur-driven limousine on call twenty-four hours a day. But if you go to the expense of the luxury, would you travel by taxi?’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Crown agreed.
‘I never think about anything I can’t aspire to,’ Chang said.
Aravjo hit the chauffeur. Fast, but not hard. A backhanded slap across the right cheek. The chauffeur began a lunge as a reflex action, then forced himself into a freeze. He was trained, either by experience or premeditation, to react instantly to attack. But it was not all-consuming. A corner of his mind remained cool enough to consider the consequences of hitting a captain of police.
‘You are a liar,’ Aravjo accused flatly.
The chauffeur slid into movement: but only to rub slowly at the red mark left on his face by the slap. His pained eyes swivelled back and forth in their sockets, like the panning lenses of two half-concealed cameras. They saw the way ahead blocked by the three detectives. The car was a barrier behind him.
‘You want Mr. Gold for something real bad?’ he asked.
‘I’m like your boss,’ Aravjo said.
The chauffeur expressed confusion.
Aravjo rubbed his hands together, as if anticipating another slap. ‘I don’t confide in you,’ he explained. His pleasant mouth became set in a cruel line. ‘It would be better if you co-operated. Better for all of us.’
The frightened man remained silent for five seconds. Then: ‘Look, I didn’t tell you, Captain. You found out somewhere else. Somebody saw them get out of the car at the hydrofoil pier.’
‘Them?’
‘Mr. Gold and Mr. Tiroa.’
Aravjo looked proudly at Crown, pleased to have elicited the information with such a small effort.
‘How long ago?’ Crown asked.
‘I just got back in time to wax the car before you arrived,’ came the reply. ‘Less than an hour. Longer than thirty minutes.’
‘You saw them get on a boat?’ Chang wanted to know.
‘I didn’t wait.’
‘When are you going to pick up Gold?’
A shrug of the bare shoulders. ‘Late. Tonight. Mr. Gold will telephone me.’
‘Po?’ Crown asked.
‘Yes, Mr. Crown?’
‘You reckon he knows where in Hong Kong they went?’
Chang locked his gaze with that of the chauffeur. The chauffeur looked ready to kill the detective.
‘I told you,’ the chauffeur reminded. ‘Mr. Gold don’t confide in me.’
‘Just you and the maid left here?’ Chang asked.
An emphatic nod.
‘Can you keep them on ice for a while, captain?’ Crown asked.
Aravjo smiled. ‘You saw the way I had to defend myself from his assault. And the maid is a material witness, I think.’
‘Look, I don’t—’
‘Protective custody should be enough,’ Crown said. ‘Just to keep them away from a telephone.’
‘I told you, I don’t—’
Crown cut in on the chauffeur again. ‘In your interest, feller. As well as ours. Gold is a bad man to cross.’
‘You’re just the type to do a guy like me a favor,’ the chauffeur said acidly.
Aravjo stopped rubbing his hands together and used one to slap the helpless man again. ‘This gentleman’s my guest in Macao,’ the captain hissed. ‘To insult him is to be disrespectful to me.’ He turned towards Crown and smiled. ‘Feel free to use the radio in my car, superintendent. The driver will send a message to headquarters to be relayed to Hong Kong.’
‘Get to it, Po,’ the Australian instructed. ‘A tail that’s just tight enough to keep tabs on them without being spotted. Arrest only as a last resort.’
‘Anyone in particular, Mr. Crown?’
Crown grinned. ‘Yeah, toss it at Eric James. He’s wasting his time with the Dutchman.’
While Chang went to confer with the police car driver, Crown together with Aravjo, shepherded the chauffeur ahead of them into the villa. He led them reluctantly to Rosita’s tiny bedroom, where she was sleeping. She wore only a pair of bikini briefs and screamed in horror when she awoke to find herself being minutely examined by three pairs of male eyes.
‘Indecent exposure?’ Aravjo suggested lightly.
‘On her, that’s not criminal,’ Crown said, and took a dress from over the back of a chair. ‘Put it on, sweetheart,’ he instructed.
‘What is this?’ Rosita demanded, trying to get the dress on without treating the interested eyes to more than the minimum of exposed flesh.
‘The fuzz,’ the chauffeur muttered. ‘I think they’re trying to bust Mr. Gold.’
Rosita sighed and slid her feet into a pair of sandals. ‘Well, it was good while it lasted,’ she said.
‘What was?’ Crown asked as Aravjo went with the chauffeur into his room so he could put on a shirt.
‘The job,’ the girl replied, and donned an earnest expression. ‘And that’s all I know, I swear. I liked my job here. That’s the end of it.’
‘I sure hope it is,’ Crown told her as all four of them started down the stairs into the courtyard with the playing fountain.
The brass-studded door was self-locking. The wrought iron gate had a padlock on it and the chauffeur fastened it. Then he took the keys from the ignition of the Mercedes and locked the car.
‘It’s hell to get a shine when the wax dries this hard,’ he said grimly, pushing a finger through the powdered polish.
‘It will be somebody else’s problem,’ Aravjo pointed out, nodding for the two prisoners to go ahead of him towards the police car. Chang was leaning against the front wing of the official vehicle, talking with the driver. The driver began to climb out from behind the wheel as he saw Aravjo and Crown herding the chauffeur and Rosita around the corner of the villa.
‘Something you didn’t ask me, but I think you ought to know,’ the chauffeur growled, squinting as he moved out of the shade into the sunlight.
‘It could help if we get enough on you to take you to court,’ the captain encouraged.
‘They met somebody at the pier.’
‘Somebody with a name,’ Crown asked.
‘Tough cookie called Lam Ju.’
Crown looked at Aravjo and received a shake of the head. The Macao detective didn’t know the name.
‘Who’s he?’ Aravjo asked.
‘Pretty regular visitor here. From Hong Kong. Him and another hard nut called Willie Ng. But I hear Willie got creased by a car today.’
Chang rattled out a fast, accurate description of the gunman who had fired at him.
The chauffeur nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yeah, that’s him. Packs a gun.’
‘He go with them?’ Chang asked.
A shrug. ‘I just dropped Mr. Gold and Mr. Tiroa and left. I didn’t know I was going to get grilled about what happened down at the pier.’
‘You weren’t grilled that time,’ Crown pointed out. ‘You must be scared about something to volunteer the gen.’
The chauffeur seemed as if he was about to spit, but confined himself to a mild growl of discontent. ‘I know Mr. Gold ain’t straight,’ he said. ‘He makes too much money without working. And the associates he has like Ng and Lam. So I figure you guys are gonna nail him. He’ll know you’ve taken me in. Ain’t a lot I can tell you, but Mr. Gold will figure I shot off what I do know. There’ll be a hit order out for me. And I wouldn’t want to get hit for something I didn’t do.’
‘All that make sense to you, Po?’ Crown asked.
‘Sure,’ Chang answered. ‘If you’re going to carry the can for something you didn’t do, you might as well do it’
‘If it’s fun,’ Crown allowed.
‘Don’t you like Gold?’ Chang asked.
‘I don’t like the way he treats Rosita,’ the chauffeur answered.
The girl made a face, ‘You’re just jealous,’ she accused. ‘For no reason, either. You’ve been getting your share.’
‘Some men don’t like to share,’ Aravjo said. ‘Get in the back of the car.’
‘She’s got no pride,’ the chauffeur rasped at Crown. ‘Mr. Gold didn’t even look twice at her when the Hong Kong girl was paying us visits. But when he passed her on to Mr. Tiroa, Rosita jumped at him like a lap dog soon as he snapped his fingers.’
‘What was the Hong Kong girl’s name?’ Crown wanted to know.
‘I don’t remember,’ the chauffeur said vacantly as he watched Rosita climb into the car.
‘Does Huang Mu Li mean anything?’ the Australian wanted to know.
The man’s eyes brightened. ‘You got it, mister.’
‘She got it,’ Crown replied sadly as Aravjo hurried the chauffeur into the rear of the police car. Then he leaned in after him. ‘Did Gold made a habit of switching his women to Tiroa?’
‘No. Mr. Gold buys most of his women locally. It was just that he happened to take a shine to this particular girl when he was over in Hong Kong on a trip. Then, one time while Mr. Tiroa was visiting, bingo. Mr. Gold can be generous sometimes. He can afford to be.’
Crown nodded and closed the door. The driver got back behind the wheel.
‘Anything more I can do for you, gentlemen?’ Aravjo asked.
Chang looked into the car. ‘You’re full up, captain.’
‘We’ll take a cab,’ Crown said. ‘You’ll hold them until you hear from me?’
‘Who knows when I may need help from the Hong Kong police,’ the captain said with a grin and extended his hand.
Crown and Chang took it in turns to shake hands with him. Then the smartly dressed Aravjo marched around to the far side of the car and got in beside the driver. The opening of the door released a rapid mixture of Portuguese and Cantonese as the chauffeur and Rosita traded insults in their native languages. Their expressions seemed somehow more animated after the closing of the door silenced their voices. Then the car gunned away from the sidewalk.
‘And we’re accused of running a police state in Hong Kong!’ Chang said, puffing out his cheeks as he stared after the departing car.
‘It’s the same system, Po,’ Crown answered. ‘But we’re lumbered with the British tradition of fair play. Which means we have to wear kid gloves. In Macao they wear their iron fists naked.’ He raised his voice. ‘Hey, taxi!’
A cab slid into the sidewalk and Crown told the driver to take them to the hydrofoil pier. The cab took a route along the edge of the bay, then kept on Rua da Praia Grande past the Jorge Alvares statue. It caught up with the unmarked police car at the junction of Avenida do Infante. Traffic was heavy, tightly-packed in streams of revving, horn-sounding vehicles driven by impatient drivers objecting to the waste of time and unavoidable necessity of breathing in exhaust fumes on the already over-heated air. The cause of the snarl-up was a stalled petrol tanker which had ground to a halt across two carriageways as it swung on to Avenida de Almeida Ribeiro from Praia Grande.
The cab driver first swore profusely to the accompaniment of his own horn, then swung around to offer a smiling apology to his passengers. But Crown was already out of the car and Chang was halfway out, extending two dollars towards the driver.
‘I can give no change,’ the driver said. ‘Standard charge.’
Chang nodded and grinned. ‘My expenses are looking better all the time,’ he said, and left the driver scratching his head.
The police driver was just returning to the official vehicle and Captain Aravjo was winding down his window as Crown and Chang reached the car. The fetid heat had become too much for the chauffeur and Rosita to maintain their quarrel and they sat hunched and grimly silent in the rear seat.
‘Nobody can find the truck driver,’ the policeman reported. ‘He said he was going to telephone his garage, but that was five minutes ago.’
‘We have plenty of time,’ Aravjo replied, shouting like his driver to be heard above the raucous noise of impatience. ‘Hong Kong traffic is like this?’ he asked Crown.
‘Noisier,’ the Australian shouted in answer. ‘Even when its moving. Have a restful afternoon, captain. I need the exercise and Chang’s in training, anyway.’
As the two Hong Kong detectives moved away, Lam Ju ducked out from a shop doorway and elbowed his way through the crowd of watchers. In one hand he carried a stainless steel hip-flask which he raised to his mouth as he stepped off the sidewalk. There was not much whisky left in the flask and half of it trickled down the killer’s chin. The liquor which did burn a course down inside his throat was not enough to fire his determination any further. Not that more fuel was needed. Ju had been drunk when he received his instructions from Gold just before the Australian boarded the Hong Kong bound hydrofoil. Drunk to soften his grief about the death of Willie Ng. But he had been able to hide the fact from the angry Gold. The faintly amused Tiroa had probably not been fooled. But Ju didn’t care about the supercilious Portuguese for the contempt which coloured their relationship was mutual. He was concerned, however, about making amends to Gold, particularly since by the same act he could avenge the death of his partner. And Gold had given him another chance.
