Jason rang the number he’d written in biro on his hand.
“Hi, this is Jason Armstrong-Beaufort.” He’d decided to use his name rather than his title when dealing with the police here in Australia. He thought that using his title would provoke disbelief. And they didn’t have time to waste. “I phoned about 20 minutes ago to tell you about a message a friend had left me saying he was in danger. Yes. Well, I just want to tell you that you don’t need to come because the police are already here. Yes. My friend must’ve called you guys before he called us. Yeah, you can talk to one of them. Sergeant Kaminski.” He handed his phone over to the policeman.
When Kaminski had finished speaking he handed the phone back to Jason.
“What are you going to do now? Don’t get involved. Let us do our job.” They were obviously no longer suspects.
Jason shrugged. “Colin made me promise not to get involved. What are you going to do now?”
“We’re putting out a KALOF …” he interrupted himself when he saw their puzzlement “… a Keep a Lookout For …. Luigi’s car and the killer’s.”
“How did you know the killer’s name? And his car number?” Jason was beginning to get frustrated.
“We—well, the police—raided his house earlier this morning.” Kaminski looked very uncomfortable.
“And …?” said Jason, his voice hard.
“He got away.”
“Wonderful,” exclaimed Jason. Keith hadn’t thought anyone could put so much sarcasm into a single word.
The policeman coloured and stiffened. He didn’t say anything, though.