Free The Bear Pit by Jon Cleary Page A

non-adhesive: fragments occasionally stuck that gave a hint of a recognizable picture. At the moment it was like trying to paint a picture on water.
    â€œWhy would I kill Hans Vanderberg? I voted for him in the last election. I’d do the same at the next. He was sly and conniving and half the time you didn’t believe what he said, but he got things done.”
    â€œWho’d you vote as? John June?” asked Gail.
    â€œYes. The Electoral Commission can’t always check on whether you are who say you are. They were satisfied I was an honest citizen—which I am.”
    â€œBut John August, the real you, might not care one way or the other?”
    August just looked at her, the mere shadow of a smile on his lips, and Malone said, “Detective Lee has a point. Which bank do you and Mrs. Masson use? We can get a court order—”
    â€œThere’ll be no need for that.” This time his voice was snappy. “I’ll give you permission to look at mine. But you’ll have to ask Lynne about hers—”
    â€œWe’ll do that. We also want a release from you in the name of John August. Just in case you have two bank accounts.”
    August shook his head; the lock of hair fell down again and he pushed it back. He seemed now to be losing patience; or confidence. “You’re wasting your time. But okay, I’ll sign a release in my real name. Or what was my real name.” He looked down at his hands, stared at them, then at last looked up. Both detectives were surprised at the sadness in his eyes: “How much are you gunna tell Lynne? About my past, my record?”
    â€œIf we find you’re in the clear,” said Malone quietly, “we’ll tell her nothing. That’s up to you . . . Why did you shoot him, John?”
    But that didn’t catch August off-balance: “Try someone else, Inspector. It wasn’t me who shot him. I’ve read what’s been going on lately. He has enough enemies to kill him from a dozen sides.”
    Malone stared at him, then looked at Gail Lee: “Any more questions?”
    â€œJust a couple . . . How much do you know about guns, Mr. August?”
    â€œNot much.”
    â€œBut you knew where to buy a gun? You used a gun in that job you did time for, the armed robbery one.”
    â€œThat was Melbourne. I’ve forgotten where I got it.”
    â€œ So a gun’s an everyday item with you? You buy one and forget where?”
    â€œIt was twelve years ago, for Crissakes!” For a moment the calm demeanour was gone; then he put it on again like a mask: “Sorry. I’ll remember and let you know. Can you remember what you were doing twelve years ago?”
    â€œI was about to start Year 10 at high school. I wasn’t buying a gun.”
    His look was almost admiring. Then he said, “It’s different these days, in high school, I mean.”
    â€œKnives, Mr. August, not guns. Not yet.” Then she said, “Where do you live?”
    He gave an address in Lane Cove. “It’s a flat, in Lynne’s name. Why?”
    â€œWe’ll get a warrant to search it. Just routine.”
    The mask dropped. “Christ, how do I explain that to Lynne?”
    â€œMaybe you’d better tell her the truth about yourself.” Malone stood up. “Righto, John, you can go. Detective Lee and one of my men will drive you back to Longueville. But if you want to keep your secret from Lynne, maybe you’d like to wait while Detective Lee gets the search warrant. Then we can search your flat and maybe Lynne won’t need to know.”
    â€œI’ll wait. I’m not gunna hurt Lynne, if it can be avoided.”
    II
    â€œDo you think the hit was meant for one of us?” asked Aldwych.
    â€œNo,” said Jack Junior. “All the union trouble is over. They’ve moved on to fight other developers.”
    â€œI still don’t trust our Chinese partners. I