Five-Ring Circus Read Free

down the back. I’ll take Mum and the girls home—”
    â€œGet a cab—”
    â€œDad, the car’s just around the corner in the parking station—”
    â€œGet a cab, I said! You’re not going up to that car park while that gunman is loose. Get a cab, go home!”
    â€œCan we do that?” said Lisa. “You just said that everyone had to stay till the police arrived.”
    She and the girls were pale, but composed. Lisa was no stranger to murder at close range, nor were the children; a dead man had once been fished out of the family swimming pool. That murder had been different; Scobie had not been in charge of a crowd scene. She had learned early in their marriage the harness that a policeman’s life put on the wife; she often resented it, but only occasionally did she express the resentment. Tonight, she recognized, was not such an occasion. Scobie’s job, as witness to a triple murder and not able to apprehend the killer, was going to be difficult enough.
    â€œWe’ll sit here and be quiet,” she said.
    He looked at the four of them for a moment, the crowd behind him forgotten; then he nodded and gently pushed Tom back into the seat. “Righto, I’ll get you out of here as soon as someone arrives.”
    He went back down to the last banquette, ripped a cloth off a neighbouring table and threw it over the three dead men as they lay with their faces in their meals. Then he went on out to the kitchen. Only Les Chung and the head chef were there.
    â€œWhere is everyone?” he asked, but was unsurprised.
    â€œThey’ve all gone home,” said Chung. “They were gone before I got in here. That’s why I came back, to try and hold them for you. I knew you’d want to talk to them.”
    Malone had no trouble hiding his cynical grin; he was in no mood for humour. “Thanks for trying, Les. How many illegals do you employ?”
    â€œNone that I know of.” Chung didn’t appear to be in the least upset; murder could have been on the menu. “We have all their addresses, Inspector. I’ll see you can get in touch with them.”
    â€œIf I’m lucky. Come back inside. You too, Mr.—?”
    â€œSmith,” said the Chinese chef. “Wally Smith.”
    Another illegal? “Righto, I’ll talk to you both as soon’s the police arrive.”
    â€œWhat about the media? I don’t want—”
    â€œI’m afraid they’re your problem, Les. But you don’t talk to them till you’ve talked to me, okay?”
    The first uniformed police arrived two minutes later; then two ambulances. Fifteen minutes later the Crime Scene team were at work and Clements and the three Homicide detectives had arrived. So had the media, appearing, as Malone thought of them, with the scent of vultures. The uniformed cops were keeping them out in the street, which was now crowded from pavement to pavement. Red and blue roof lights spun, clashing with the street’s neon. Two policewomen were running out blue and white Crime Scene tapes, doing the housekeeping.
    Malone turned control over to Clements and the senior uniformed officer. Then he got a uniformed man to usher his family out and escort them to the parking station. As they moved towards the front door the stout man stood up and demanded to know why they were being allowed to go.
    Lisa stopped opposite him. “Because I’m married to Inspector Malone. It’s one of the few privileges of being a policeman’s wife—we’re allowed to go home early. Satisfied?”
    And now Malone was seated opposite Les Chung in a banquette on the opposite side of the room from the murder booth. “Les, I asked you if you knew who had sent the killer.”
    â€œI have no idea.”
    â€œRighto, then. Have you any idea why he would come in here and kill your three friends? You were having dinner with them, weren’t you? There were four