Chapters (30)
- Title Page
- CURATOR’S NOTE
- Dedication
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- AFTERWORD
- DOMINO ISLAND: A HISTORY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- DESMOND BAGLEY
- MICHAEL DAVIES
- PHILIP EASTWOOD
- By the same author
- About the Publisher
So far my poking was keeping her talking, but there was just a chance I’d push her too hard and she’d clam up. She twitched with irritation. ‘That’s another thing. You had to stick your nose in there too. You really wound me up when you talked about Mrs Salton selling it.’
I thought about that. What could they use an aircraft for? Smuggling? That was possible but somehow I didn’t think so. There was no necessity to isolate the El Cerco estate for a smuggling job. In fact, the reverse would be better: smuggling is something you don’t draw attention to. Of course, they could always steal the damn thing, but a Learjet is hardly the easiest of contraband to offload with a fence.
‘The biggest?’ I said, and put a sneer into my voice, an audible edge of doubt.
‘Yes, Kemp,’ said Bette. ‘The biggest. You don’t believe me, do you?’
I wondered just how vain Bette Haslam was. She was certainly vain about her prowess with a pistol and that might spill over into other things. I’d heard that criminals tend towards self-importance, which is why a lot of them get caught. They can’t resist boasting and sometimes they boast to the wrong ears. Maybe this would be an opening wedge.
‘Well, you’ve got to admit, it’s quite hard to believe, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘I mean, what the hell could be that big on a tuppenny island like this?’
‘Oh, Christ!’ she said. ‘You don’t know anything, do you? I thought you did once, but you’re just dumb. Dumb and goddamn lucky.’
‘Lucky?’ I looked around at our situation and didn’t feel at all lucky right at that moment. ‘How am I lucky?’
‘Because I took a shot at you and missed, and it’s not often I do that. You’re a real lucky guy – so far.’
Unconsciously my hand went up and rubbed the tape that was still on the back of my neck. ‘That was you?’
‘That was me,’ she said.
‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘Oh, come on, it’s not that hard to work out, surely? All right, Kemp, let me spell it out for you. I reckoned you’d caught on to us. I happened to be in the Salton Estate office when you were talking to Mrs Forsyth about the airplane and what she’d found in it. I didn’t hear it all because she came around and closed the door but I thought you were on to us. So I got back in my car, waited until you came out, then followed you until I got a chance to take a crack at you.’