The Tattooed Man Read Free

blood Cassatt had left behind him was always somebody else’s.
    ‘Boss? Talk to me.’
    ‘You do what you’d normally do,’ Harrigan snapped back. ‘You find out how Cassatt died and what he was doing here in the first place. What difference does it make who he is?’
    ‘Because it’s not going to be that straightforward. Anything about the Ice Cream Man gives thecommissioner a coronary. When he hears about this, he’s going to want to put his oar in. God knows how much he’ll fuck us around. Then there’s you, boss.’ Trevor spoke more quietly. ‘There’s all those rumours out there about you and Cassatt. You’ve told me they’re shit and I accept that. But people are going to talk. The commissioner’s going to wonder what’s behind them, the way he always does. Every move we make, he’s going to be looking over our shoulders.’
    ‘Let him,’ Harrigan replied savagely. ‘You can handle it. That’s what you’re paid for.’
    He peeled off his gloves. Sweat prickled across his forehead. He felt a growing impatience needling at his self-control. ‘Let’s go talk to the minister. It’s time I introduced myself.’
    They found Senator Allan Edwards at the front of the house, sitting at a garden table and stroking a pedigree Rottweiler that sat with its head on his knees. Not far from his feet, a flock of tiny fairy wrens, their feathers satin-purple and bright powder-blue in the sunlight, picked their quick, indifferent way through the garden beds. Parked on the gravel, Harrigan saw the minister’s white government car, his driver standing beside it, smoking a cigarette and staring at the ground. The high walls surrounding the house and garden had turned this space near the garages into an artificial oasis, creating a sense not so much of calm as of stretched and tense inaction.
    ‘Senator Edwards? I’m Commander Paul Harrigan. New South Wales Police. I’m in charge of the Homicide and Violent Crime Command. My people are running this investigation. You’ve met my inspector, Trevor Gabriel. I’d like to give you ourdeepest sympathy for what’s happened here. I want to assure you we’ll do everything we possibly can to find whoever is responsible for this outrage and put them away.’
    Harrigan’s professional etiquette, his passionless voice, were doing the talking for him. In this job, detachment was his protection. While he spoke, he watched the politician watch him. Edwards must have been close to sixty. His cheeks were a mat of broken veins while his eyes had an aged, liquid white glaze to them. He might have accumulated an extra ten years in the last few hours. He didn’t offer his hand. Harrigan could see that it was trembling. The dog looked up with innocent eyes and then sat at the senator’s feet.
    ‘This is Matilda,’ Edwards said. ‘She was Julian’s dog. She was locked in his room. You’re going to solve this, are you? Are you going to bring my son back to life as well?’
    If only we could, Harrigan thought.
    ‘Did you come here to see him, Minister?’
    ‘No, I came to see Nattie. Julian wasn’t supposed to be back until tonight. She was expecting me, we’d organised this appointment a week ago. Check her diary, it’ll be there. Someone else must have checked it because they knew I was going to be here today. You can keep this. It’s not an official phone, it’s my personal one.’
    Edwards gave Harrigan his mobile phone. An SMS message was on display, a string of numbers and letters with the words: This will get you in the gate.
    ‘I received that message while I was on my way here,’ Edwards said. ‘When we arrived, no one answered the intercom. I told my driver to try the numbers like the message said. They opened the gateso we drove in. I could hear Matilda barking from somewhere inside. I didn’t know why she’d be here. I heard flies. I went through to the patio—’ He stopped. ‘I’ll never forget that sight. Not until the day I die.’
    After this,