Five-Ring Circus Read Online Free

not going to let it lie, Les, understand?” He stood up, pushing Clements ahead of him out of the booth. “In the meantime we’ll talk to Jack Aldwych. What I know of Jack, he never liked his business partners being bumped off.”
    Chung didn’t move from the booth. Hands folded on the table in front of him, he looked up at the two big detectives. “I’ll talk to you in the morning. Without talking to my mother, just to my lawyer.”
    â€œDo that, Les. In the meantime I’m going to get a court order to close down the Golden Gate till we know what’s going on. Next time some innocent customers might get in the way.”
    III
    The street outside was still crowded; those that had lingered had been augmented by the crowd spilling out from the Entertainment Centre round the corner. The police cars, the media vans, the Crime Scene tapes: more entertainment, hey guys, let’s hang around. The windows on both sides of the narrow street were stuffed with people; close to Malone and the other police expectant faces leaned forward, as if hoping that the score had gone up. Half a dozen reporters, recorders held up like guns, rushed Malone, but he waved them away, drew his detectives around him.
    â€œWhat’d you get?”
    Phil Truach, the sergeant, shook his head. An habitual smoker, he had had three cigarettes while in the restaurant; he knew the Chinese, civilized people, were the last ones to condemn smokers. But he never smoked in front of Malone, a lifelong non-smoker. “Nothing, Scobie. We’ve got six descriptions of the guy who did the shooting—all different.”
    â€œWas he Asian? Chinese?”
    â€œThree said Asian, three said Caucasian.” Gail Lee had a Chinese father and an Australian mother. It was usually the Chinese heritage that prevailed in her, but Malone put that down to her having decided that was the best way of handling the Australians who surrounded her. She was close to being beautiful, but a certain coldness, perhaps suspicion, turned one off her before one could look at her in impartial appreciation. She was a good detective.
    â€œWhat about Wally Smith, the head chef? The killer would’ve gone right past him in the kitchen, coming and going.”
    â€œSaid he saw nothing, he had his head buried in a pot of chop suey.” John Kagal was in black tie and dinner jacket; he had been on call but had obviously hoped not to be called. He saw Malone look at his outfit and he smiled. “My mother and father’s fortieth wedding anniversary. They like to dress up.”
    So do you, thought Malone unkindly; Kagal was the fashion plate of Homicide. “Not chop suey, John, not at the Golden Gate. Okay, that’s it for the night. Who’s in charge here from Day Street?”
    On cue a lean, medium-height man in an open-necked shirt and a lightweight golf jacket stepped forward. He was Ralph Higgins, the senior sergeant in charge of the local detectives. Malone had worked with him before, knew his worth. He had a constantly harried look, but it was never apparent in his work.
    â€œG’day, Scobie. We’ll handle it, do the donkey-work—” Even his grin looked harried, as if he were unsure of his jokes. “But I gather you were the principal witness?”
    â€œDon’t remind me. This’ll need a task force, Ralph. You set it up and we’ll co-operate. I’ll check it out with Greg Random and you do the same with your patrol commander. Russ here will be our liaison man. Phil will exchange notes with you. We’ve got bugger-all so far.”
    â€œWhat else is new?” said Higgins. “This is Chinatown, mate. The day I walk into an open-and-shut case around here will be time for me to retire.”
    Malone glanced at Gail Lee out of the corner of his eye, but her face was a closed-and-shut case. “Righto, Ralph, it’s all yours. Russ and I are going out to have a chat with Jack