‘What’s her name?’ Villani said.
‘They don’t know,’ said Dove. ‘Know nothing about her. There’s no ID.’
‘Neighbours?’
‘Aren’t any. Six apartments on this floor, all empty.’
The lift came, they fell thirty floors. On the sixth, at a desk, three dark suits, two men and a woman, waited. The plump fiftyish man came forward, pushing back limp hair.
‘Alex Manton, building manager,’ he said.
Dove said, ‘This is Inspector Villani, head of Homicide.’
Manton offered his hand. It felt dry, chalky.
‘Let’s talk in the meeting space, inspector,’ Manton said.
The room had a painting on the inner wall, vaguely marine, five metres by three at least, blue-grey smears, possibly applied with a mop. They sat at a long table with legs of chromed pipe.
‘Who owns the apartment?’ said Villani.
‘A company called Shollonel Pty Ltd, registered in Lebanon,’ said Manton. ‘As far as we know, it’s not occupied.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘Well, it’s not a given to know. People buy apartments to live in, investment, future use. They might not live in them at all, live in them for short or long periods. We ask people to register when they’re in residence. But you can’t force them.’
‘How was she found?’ said Villani.
‘Sylvia?’ said Manton. ‘Our head concierge, Sylvia Allegro.’
The woman, dolly face. ‘The apartment’s front door wasn’t fully closed,’ she said. ‘The lock didn’t engage. That triggers a buzzer in the apartment. If it isn’t closed in two minutes, there’s a security alert and they ring the apartment. If that doesn’t work, they go up.’
‘So there in four, five minutes?’ said Villani.
Sylvia looked at Manton, who was looking at the other man, fortyish, head like a glans.
‘Obviously not quite,’ said the man.
‘You are?’ said Villani.
‘David Condy, head of security for the apartments and the hotel.’ He was English.
‘What’s not quite mean?’
‘I’m told the whole electronic system failed its first big test last night. The casino opening. Orion. Four hundred guests.’
‘The open door. The system tells you when?’
‘It should do. But what with…’
‘That’s no?’
‘Yes. No.’
‘Panic buttons up there.’
‘In all the apartments.’
‘Not pressed?
Condy ran a finger in his collar. ‘No evidence of that.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘It’s difficult to say. With the failure, we have no record.’
‘That’s not difficult,’ said Villani. ‘It’s impossible.’
Manton held up a pudgy hand. ‘To cut to the whatever, inspector, a major IT malfunction. Coinciding with this matter, so we look a little silly.’
Villani looked at the woman. ‘The bed’s stripped. How would you get rid of sheets and stuff?’
‘Get rid of?’
‘Dispose of.’
The woman flicked at Manton. ‘Well, the garbage chute, I suppose,’ she said.
‘Can you tell where garbage has come from?’
‘No.’
‘Explain this building to me, Mr Manton. Just an outline.’
Manton’s right hand consulted his hair. ‘From the top, four floors of penthouses. Then six floors, four apartments each. Beneath them, it’s fourteen floors of apartments, six to a floor. Then it’s the three recreation floors, pools, gyms, spas, and so on. Then twelve more floors of apartments, eight to a floor. Then the casino’s four floors, the hotel’s ten floors, two floors of catering, housekeeping. And these reception floors, that’s concierge, admin and security. The casino has its own security but its systems mesh with the building’s.’
‘Or don’t.’ Villani pointed down.
‘Under us, the business floors, retail, and hospitality, ground floor plaza. Five basement levels for parking and utilities.’
In Villani’s line of sight, the door opened. A man came in, a woman followed, even height, suits, white shirts.
‘Crashing in,’ said the man, loud. ‘Introductions, please, Alex.’
Manton stood. ‘Inspector Villani, this is Guy Ulyatt of Marscay Corporation.’
Ulyatt was fat and pink, cornsilk hair, tuber nose. ‘Pleasure, inspector,’ he said. He didn’t offer a hand, sat down. The woman sat beside him.
Villani said to Manton, ‘This person’s got something to tell us?’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ said Ulyatt. ‘I’m head of corporate affairs for Marscay.’
‘You have something to tell us?’ said Villani.
‘Making sure you’re getting maximum co-operation. No reflection on Alex, of course.’
‘Mr Manton is helping us,’ said Villani. ‘If you don’t have a contribution, thank you and goodbye.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Ulyatt. ‘I represent the building’s owners.’
Silence in the big room. Villani looked at Dove. He wanted him to learn something from this. Dove held his eyes but there was no telling what he was learning.
‘We Own The Building,’ said Ulyatt, four distinct words.
‘What’s that got to do with me?’ said Villani.
‘We’d like to work with you. Minimise the impact on Prosilio and its people.’
‘Homicide, Mr Elliot,’ said Villani. ‘We’re from Homicide.’
‘It’s Ulyatt.’ He spelled it.
‘Yes,’ said Villani. ‘You might try talking to some other branch of the force. Impact minimisation division. I’m sure there’s one, I’d be the last to know.’
Ulyatt smiled, a genial fish, a grouper. ‘Why don’t we settle down and sort this out? Julie?’
The woman smiled. She had shoe-black hair, she’d been under the knife, knew the needle, the dermabrasion, detailed down to her tyres like a saleyard Mercedes.
‘Julie Sorenson, our key media person,’ said Ulyatt.
‘Hi,’ she said, vanilla teeth, eyes like a dead deer, ‘It’s Stephen, isn’t it?’
‘Hi and goodbye,’ said Villani. ‘Same to you, Mr Elliot. Lovely to meet you but we’re pushed here. A deceased person.’
Ulyatt lost the fish look. ‘It’s Ulyatt. I’m trying to be helpful, inspector, and I’m being met by hostility. Why is that?’
‘This is what we need, Mr Manton,’ said Villani. ‘Ready?’
‘Sylvia?’ said Manton.
She had her pen ready.
‘All CCTV tapes from 3pm yesterday, all lifts, parking,’ said Villani. ‘Also duty rosters, plus every single recorded coming and going, cars, people, deliveries, tradies, whatever.’
Ulyatt whistled. ‘Tall order,’ he said. ‘We’ll need a lot more time.’
‘Got that down?’ said Villani to Sylvia Allegro.
‘Yes.’
‘Also the CVs and rosters of all staff with access to the thirty-sixth floor or who could allow anyone access. And the owners of apartments on the floor and other floors with access to the floor. Plus the guest list for the casino function.’
‘We don’t have that,’ said Ulyatt. ‘That’s Orion’s business.’
‘The casino function was in your building,’ said Villani. ‘I suggest you ask them. If they won’t co-operate, let Detective Dove here know.’
Ulyatt was shaking his head.
‘We’ll show the victim on television tonight, ask for information,’ said Villani.
‘I can’t see the necessity at this stage,’ said Ulyatt.
Villani delayed looking at him, met the eyes of Dove, Weber, Manton, Allegro, not Condy, he was looking away. Then he fixed Ulyatt. ‘All these rich people paying for full-on security, the panic buttons, the cameras,’ he said. ‘A woman murdered in your building, that’s a negative?’
‘It’s a woman found dead,’ said Ulyatt. ‘It’s not clear to me that she was murdered. And I can’t see why you would go on television until you’ve examined the information you want. Which we will provide as speedily as we can, I can assure you.’