Free Autumn Maze by Jon Cleary Page A

he was once the biggest criminal in the country. A cop can’t take favours from a man like that.”
    Maureen had raised herself in her seat, taken a polite look at Jack Aldwych, who gave her a small wave. She sank back. “I read about him in the papers. He’s retired, it said.”
    â€œPeople would still look at it the wrong way.” Especially now . This very week two senior police officers were being investigated for having lunched with two top crims.
    Claire gave him a smile and patted his hand. “Well, it’s nice to know you’re not bent.”
    â€œThanks,” he said and looked at Lisa. “What more can kids say about their father than that? Now, when dinner comes, eat everything, since I’m paying.”
    â€œWe knew you’d say that,” said Maureen and produced a plastic bag. “So I brought a doggy-bag, just in case.”
    They had almost finished dinner when Jack Aldwych, tall and well-dressed, looking more like a slightly battered banker, of whom there were many these days, than a man who had murdered and ordered murders, came past their booth. Lisa put out a hand.
    â€œMr. Aldwych, we haven’t met. I’m Lisa Malone and these are our children. We’d like to thank you for your offer of dinner. It wasn’t meant to be a rude refusal.”
    Aldwych smiled at her. He liked good-looking women and this was a good-looking woman: blonde, well-figured, quietly dressed, with a frank but intelligent face. There had been a time when, intent only on the male enemy, cops and other crims, he had made little attempt to understand women. Except, of course, Shirl, the wife, whom he had understood and loved.
    â€œMrs. Malone, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And you, too.” He looked around the booth at the three children; then at Malone: “Scobie, I understand. I wasn’t offended—I read the papers. It’s just a pity a simple gesture is suspected. I don’t mean you, you know who I mean.”
    â€œSure, Jack. You well?”
    â€œHoping to live till I’m a hundred. I’ll buy you all dinner on the day. By then I should be respectable.” He smiled again at the children, then at Lisa. “Goodnight, Mrs. Malone. The children are a credit to you. So is he.”
    He winked at Malone and passed on. Claire said, “What a nice old man! It’s hard to believe—”
    â€œBelieve it,” said Malone, “whatever it is. Why did you do that, darl? Stop him?”
    â€œIt was spur of the moment,” said Lisa. “I’ve been hearing about him off and on, bits and pieces, for—what?—three years now. A wife gets curious, whether she is married to a policeman or not. I just wanted to see if he was real.”
    â€œIs he?” said Tom.
    â€œYes, he is. Very real.” And she looked across the table at Malone. Somehow, he thought, she had seen inside Jack Aldwych, seen the ruthlessness, dormant now maybe, that had been his nature for so long. “But why did you bring us here?”
    â€œBecause it’s the best restaurant in Chinatown. I’d just forgotten he’s a part-owner. Righto, now here’s the worst part of the evening. The bill.”
    Going through their usual mockery of him, the two girls opened their purses and Tom put his hand in his pocket. Their mother said, “Put your money away. If he doesn’t pay, we’re all leaving home.”
    Malone grinned and even left a tip, a bounty that left the Chinese waiters unimpressed. It was only five per cent, but it was almost a mortal wound to the donor.
    II
    Next morning Chief Superintendent Greg Random, Commander of the Regional Crime Squad, came across from Police Centre to the Hat Factory. Malone had just called the morning conference when Random walked in.
    â€œDon’t look at me like that,” he said. Tall, lean and grey-haired, laconic as a recorded weather report, he had once been in charge