Angel of the Dark

“Well, if you’re really sure,” said Matt, “I’d be delighted. Thank you.”

“Good.” Lisa Baring smiled. “Miles always used to say that two heads were better than one.”

THAT NIGHT AS HE LAY IN bed, Matt stared at the ceiling fan spinning around and thought how his life seemed to be spinning equally fast. How on earth did I wind up here, in a luxury villa in Bali of all places, the guest of quite possibly the most interesting, attractive woman I’ve ever met? And how ironic that a sadistic killer, the man who murdered my father and raped that woman, should have played Cupid.

He ought to call Danny McGuire in Lyon and inform him of developments. And he would. But not quite yet. Matt Daley wanted to keep Lisa Baring to himself for a little while longer. To figure out what made those intelligent eyes so sad in the peace and tranquillity of this magical island.

Think of it as a vacation, he told himself as he drifted off to sleep between soft Egyptian-cotton sheets. A long-overdue vacation. Raquel, the divorce, Danny McGuire, and everything about life on the outside felt wonderfully far away.

For the first time in months, Matt Daley fell asleep happy and excited at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MRS. JOYCE CHAN. INTERVIEW COMMENCING, NINE A.M.”

The plump Chinese woman blinked at Inspector Liu nervously. She was afraid of policemen generally, but of this one in particular. He carried himself with importance and kept frowning, tapping his left foot against the leg of his chair in an irritated manner. Joyce knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, but that didn’t necessarily matter when it came to the Hong Kong police. If they wanted a scapegoat and chose her, there was nothing she could do about it.

Inspector Liu was in a bad mood. But it had nothing to do with Joyce Chan. In fact, he was very much hoping that the housemaid from the Barings’ mansion might finally provide him with the breakthrough he so desperately needed in this case. With Lisa Baring being so stubbornly uncooperative, Inspector Liu had made precious little headway in catching Miles Baring’s killer, a failure that was starting to embarrass not just Liu himself, but his superiors. Indeed, it would not be stretching the point to say that Inspector Liu had come to hate Miles Baring’s widow, with her arrogant, Western beauty and her refusal to submit to his authority. Any sane woman would have been grateful for police protection, under the circumstances. And any genuinely grieving woman would have wanted to stay and help the police catch the man responsible for her husband’s death, not to mention her own violation. The fact that Lisa Baring hadn’t done these things, but had fled to a compound in Bali, outside of Inspector Liu’s jurisdiction, further hardened the detective’s heart against her. Lisa Baring was listed as the sole beneficiary in her husband’s will. That gave her motive. By her own admission, she was present when the murder took place. That gave her opportunity. Of course, she hadn’t raped herself. But did she know more about her “attacker” than she was letting on? And if so, was she afraid of him, or protecting him?

Inspector Liu would have dearly loved to force Lisa Baring to return to Hong Kong and answer these questions herself. But short of arresting her, for which he had no grounds, his hands were tied.

That was where Joyce Chan came in.

“How long have you worked at 117 Prospect Road, Mrs. Chan?”

Sweat trickled down the maid’s fat cheeks. “Long time. Mr. Baring buy house, 1989. I working there two year later. Long time.”

“And what were your duties?”

Mrs. Chan looked at Inspector Liu blankly.

“Your job. What was your job?”

“Oh. I in charge all the maids on bedroom floors. Level two and three. They change sheet, keep it clean. I organize.”

“I see. So you were a supervisor. You did not clean yourself.”

She nodded eagerly, pleased to have provided a correct answer. “Supervisor. Yes. Only sometime I clean for Mrs. Baring. Special thing.”

Inspector Liu’s ears pricked up, like a deer scenting danger on the wind.

“What sort of ‘special thing’?”

Mrs. Chan’s hands shook. She mumbled, “Private thing.”

Belatedly, Liu realized that the poor woman was terrified. He tried to reassure her. “You’re not in any trouble, Mrs. Chan. This is all very helpful information, I assure you. It may help us to catch the man who killed Mr. Baring. Do you understand?”

She nodded dumbly.

“What private cleaning did you do for Mrs. Baring?”

The maid squirmed. ?

??Mrs. Baring have a friend. Sometime visit in the day.”

“A friend? You mean a man?”

Joyce Chan nodded. “After, she like me make everything clean. Only me.”