The room went silent.
‘He’ll never turn up here without ringing first,’ Lebie said.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ said Watkins.
‘He could ring at any moment,’ Harry said. ‘We have to gain some time. Any suggestions?’
‘Well,’ Yong said. ‘We could talk to the phone company and get them to block the number and deliver a malfunction message.’
‘And if he rings the phone company?’
‘Cable fault in the area due to . . . er, digging.’
‘That sounds fishy. He’ll just check his neighbour’s number,’ Lebie said.
‘We’ll have to get the whole area cut off,’ Harry said. ‘Can you do that, sir?’
Watkins scratched behind his ear. ‘There’ll be chaos. Why the hell—?’
‘It’s urgent, sir!’
‘Shit! Give me the phone, Yong. McCormack will have to sort this one out. Whatever happens we can’t have the phones in a whole district down for too long, Holy. We’ll have to start planning our next move. Shit, shit, shit!’
ELEVEN THIRTY.
‘Nothing,’ said a desperate Watkins. ‘Not a bloody thing!’
‘Well, we could hardly expect him to leave a note saying where she was, could we,’ Harry said.
Lebie emerged from the bedroom. He shook his head. Not even Yong, who had gone through the whole block, had anything to report.
They sat down in the sitting room.
‘It’s actually a bit odd,’ Harry said. ‘If we’d searched each other’s flats we would have found something. An interesting letter, a stained porn mag, a photo of an old flame, a stain on the sheet, something. But this guy’s a serial killer, and we’ve found absolutely nothing to suggest he has a life.’
‘I’ve never seen such a tidy bachelor pad before,’ Lebie said.
‘It’s too tidy,’ Yong said. ‘It’s almost weird.’
‘There’s something we’ve overlooked,’ Harry said, studying the ceiling.
‘We’ve been everywhere,’ Watkins said. ‘If he’s left any clues, they aren’t here. All the bloke does is eat, sleep, watch TV, shit and leave messages on his computer.’
‘You’re right,’ Harry broke in. ‘This isn’t where Toowoomba the murderer lives. The person who lives here is an abnormally tidy guy who isn’t worried about any close interest being taken in him. But what about the other one? Could he have another place? Another flat, a holiday cottage?’
‘Nothing registered in that name anyway,’ Yong said. ‘I checked before we set out.’
The mobile phone rang. It was McCormack. He had spoken to the phone company. To the argument that this was a life and death matter they had retorted that it could also be a life and death matter for neighbours ringing for an ambulance. But with a little help from the mayor’s office McCormack had managed to have the lines blocked until seven in the evening.
‘Nothing to stop us smoking in here now,’ Lebie said, plucking out a thin cigarillo. ‘Or dropping ash on the carpet and leaving big, fat footprints in the hall. Anyone got a light?’
Harry cast about for some matches and struck one. He sat staring at the box. And found his interest engaged.
‘Do you know what’s special about this box?’ he said.
The others dutifully shook their heads.
‘It says it’s waterproof. And it says it’s for use in the mountains and at sea. Do any of you walk around with waterproof matchboxes?’
More head-shaking.
‘Would I be wrong to say you can only buy these in specialist shops, and they cost a bit more than standard boxes?’
The others shrugged.
‘They’re not standard anyway. I’ve never seen any like it,’ Lebie said.
Watkins scrutinised the box closely. ‘I think my brother-in-law had boxes like that on board his boat,’ he said.
‘I was given this box by Toowoomba,’ Harry said. ‘At the funeral.’
There was a silence.
Yong coughed. ‘There’s a picture of a yacht in the hall,’ he said tentatively.
ONE O’CLOCK.
‘Thanks for your help, Liz,’ Yong said, ending the call. ‘We’ve got it! It’s in the marina in Lady Bay where it’s registered to one Gert Van Hoos.’
‘OK,’ Watkins said. ‘Yong, you stay here in case Toowoomba turns up. Lebie, Harry and I will head out there now.’
The traffic was light and Lebie’s new Toyota purred with contentment doing 120 kph up New South Head Road.
‘No backup, sir?’ Lebie enquired.
‘If he’s there three men are more than enough,’ Watkins said. ‘According to Yong, there’s no arms licence registered, and I have a feeling he’s not the type to brandish weapons.’