‘Not done, no, not at all,’ said Villani. ‘But we can conduct this interview in other circumstances.’
‘Is that, we can do this here or we can do it at the station? Jesus, what a cliché.’
‘That’s what we deal in,’ said Villani.
‘I’m a minister of the crown, you grasped that, detective?’
‘I’m an inspector. From Homicide. Didn’t I say that?’
Koenig looked at the ceiling. ‘What?’
‘Did you see the news last Saturday night?’
‘No. I had meetings in Canberra. Went up on Saturday morning. Want to check that?’
Villani thought that it would be a pleasure to arrest Koenig, tip off the media, have them waiting. ‘Let’s start with how you arranged for the woman,’ he said. ‘Who you had dealings with.’
‘I think I need my lawyer,’ said Koenig.
‘Of course,’ said Villani. ‘We’ll interview you in the presence of your lawyer. Would you like to give me a time today? St Kilda Road headquarters. Give your name at the desk, someone will come down.’
‘I rang a number someone gave me. I said I wanted a certain kind of woman. The person told me the price, cash, in advance. I said okay, gave the address. She arrived. I paid her, she went out to a car, she came back. Later she left.’
‘You had the cash?’
‘Well, I didn’t pop out to a cash machine, I can tell you.’
‘A certain kind of woman. What kind?’
‘None of your business.’
Villani looked at Dove, blinked at him, Take him on. ‘Tell us about her, minister,’ said Dove.
Koenig’s mobile rang, sharp buzzes. He listened, said Yes a few times, then No twice. ‘Tell him I’ll get back to him ASAP.’
He ended the exchange. ‘I don’t have all day,’ Koenig said to Villani. ‘Can we get this over with?’
‘The woman.’
‘Young, long hair, ten words of English. Very pale. White.’ ‘Caucasian pale?’ said Villani.
‘Oh yes.’
Dove said, ‘So you specified a non-Asian?’
Koenig stared at him. ‘Not in a fucking SBS crime show, sonny. You could quite soon find yourself liaising with your drunken brothers in Fitzroy. Sharing a cask.’
Villani looked around the room, nothing to look at. ‘I take that to be a racially offensive remark, Mr Koenig,’ he said.
‘Really? My, my, how could you conclude that?’
‘The number you rang,’ said Villani. ‘That would save us some time.’
‘Meaning?’
‘You can give it to us, Mr Koenig, or we can seek to get it by using the powers given to us under…’
Koenig raised his right hand, rose and went to the window, put his bum on the sill, hands in his pockets. His belly rode over his belt. In a smart bar in Prahran, he had once pushed and shoved and grabbed by the ears a much younger man who gave him cheek. The next day there had been a stiff-jawed public apology.
‘Let me get this clear,’ he said. ‘I can’t be a suspect in a murder investigation. I can account for all my time. That’s an alibi in the correct sense of the word, which you probably don’t know.’
Dove put up his right hand. ‘Sir, sir, I know, sir!’
Koenig didn’t take his eyes off Villani. ‘Shut up, sunshine,’ he said. ‘You’re dead in the water. So, although I have no involvement in anything, Homicide is threatening me with a warrant to look at my telephone records. Is that right?’
Villani thought about how sensible it would be to say that Homicide had not intended to give any such impression, Sorry, Mr Koenig.
‘Not right,’ he said. ‘We make no threats. You may wish to take advice about the rights and obligations of someone who possesses or is reasonably believed to possess information material to an investigation.’
‘I don’t have the number anymore. I threw away the card.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Possibly to avoid temptation.’
‘The person you spoke to last time…’
‘A woman.’
‘Accent?’
‘Australian.’
‘Who gave you the number?’
‘I forget. I said that. I’ve said that.’
‘How many times have you called it?’ said Dove.
‘You can call me Mr Koenig. Show some respect.’
‘How many times, Mr Koenig?’
‘None of your fucking business.’
Villani said, ‘I’ll repeat myself. Reasonably believed to possess…’
‘Twice,’ said Koenig. ‘The first time they didn’t have anyone available.’
‘Talk to the same woman?’ said Dove. ‘Mr Koenig.’
‘I really don’t know.’
‘Tell us about marks on the woman’s body, Mr Koenig,’ said Dove.
In that instant, Villani knew that Dove was not a mistake. He was a smart aleck but he was not a mistake.
‘Marks?’ said Koenig.
‘Marks.’
‘An appendix scar, that’s all I saw.’ ‘Sure about that?’
‘I know an appendix scar when I see one. I’ve got an appendix scar.’
Oh, Jesus.
Villani stared at Koenig for a while. ‘Sure we’re talking about the same woman here, minister? Not some other visitor to your house?’
‘Fuck you. I couldn’t be more sure.’
Phipps had made a mistake. This was a major error. He didn’t look at Dove-they couldn’t back off.
‘We need to know who gave you the number,’ he said.
‘A bloke at a party gave me the number, wrote it on a card.’
‘His card?’ said Dove.
A hesitation. ‘No, mine,’ said Koenig. ‘I gave him my card. He wrote it on the back.’
‘A bloke you know?’
‘No. Big party, we’d all had a few.’
‘Whose party was it?’ said Dove. ‘We can go down that route.’
Koenig licked his lower lip, an unhealthy tongue, spotted. ‘Now that I think about it,’ he said, ‘It was at Orion. Or Persius, maybe Persius. Could have been the snow, though. Yes, might have been at the snow last winter.’
Dove said, ‘I suggest you know who gave you the phone number, minister.’
‘Really?’ Koenig said. ‘I suggest you pull your fucking head in, sunshine. And you, Villani, you’ve made a very bad career move today, you and this clown of yours.’
Villani said to Dove, ‘Record that at this point Mr Koenig made what appeared to be a threat to Inspector Villani, with the words, quote, You’ve made a very bad career move today, you and this clown of yours. Unquote.’
Dove wrote, slowly. Villani watched him. He didn’t look at Koenig until Dove was finished. Then he said, ‘Mr Koenig, we’ll probably want to take a formal statement from you. You might want to bring your lawyer with you. In the meantime, we’d be grateful for the security system vision.’
‘I’ve wiped the tapes. I wipe them once a week. That’s part of my Sunday-night routine.’
Villani rose, Dove followed.
‘Thank you for your time, Mr Koenig,’ said Villani. ‘We’ll be in touch about the statement.’
‘You think this up on your own?’ said Koenig.
‘No idea what you mean, minister,’ said Villani. ‘Good day.’
Outside, going down the steps, Dove said, ‘I think there’s been a mistake. Putting it delicately.’
Villani was putting on his sunglasses. ‘You’re the designated thinker here,’ he said. ‘I take it then you and Weber didn’t just forget to mention the appendix scar I didn’t notice on the Prosilio girl?’
‘No, sir. There’s no scar.’
‘Well, then the way I’d put it, delicately, is our careers are fucked. For the moment.’
‘So what now, boss?’
‘Every call the prick’s made in the last two months. But that’s only me.’
‘Can I ask why?’
The question hung, they came to the vehicle, Dove was driving. In the traffic, Villani said, ‘You’ll never hear me use the term fishing trip. We do things by the book.’
‘I respect the book,’ said Dove. ‘The book is the way and the life.’
‘Pity Weber’s married,’ said Villani. ‘You have much in common.’
‘What grounds do I offer?’