DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 5-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network and The Toy Taker

‘But something will be,’ Sean said. ‘A false business meeting, a dinner with clients that never took place. You would have put something in there to cover yourself.’

Hellier studied Sean, their eyes unconsciously locked together. He reached for his iPad with a sigh. His finger slid around the screen and within seconds he found what he was looking for − a false overnight meeting in Zurich. ‘The last time I saw Daniel was a week last Tuesday – eight days ago.’

‘Where?’ Sean pressed.

‘In Utopia.’

‘Did you ever go to his flat?’

‘No.’

Sean felt like being cruel. ‘And did you pay him to have sex with you in the club or somewhere else?’

‘I pay for sex because it’s less complicated. Keeps things simple. I can’t risk being involved in a relationship. That would make me vulnerable. You needn’t look so disgusted, Inspector. I don’t like the fact I pay for sex. I don’t like the fact I abuse the trust of family and friends. I keep things simple for all our sakes.’

‘So where did you have sex with him?’

‘I’ve admitted having sex with him – isn’t that enough?’

‘Are you absolutely sure you didn’t go back to his flat, ever?’ Sean asked.

‘Positive.’

‘And Wednesday night. Where were you Wednesday night?’ Sean continued.

Hellier paused before answering, his eyes narrowing. ‘You don’t … you don’t seriously think I had anything to do with his death, do you?’ He looked both incredulous and frustrated.

‘I just need to know where you were,’ Sean repeated with an almost friendly smile.

‘Well, if you must know, I was at home all night. I had a pile of paperwork to catch up on, so I left here at about six and went straight home, where I spent most of the night working in my study.’

‘Can anyone verify that?’

‘My wife. We had dinner together, but, like I said, I spent most of the night working, alone.’

‘Then we need to speak to your wife,’ Sean insisted.

‘Look,’ Hellier snapped. ‘Am I a suspect or not?’

‘No, Mr Hellier,’ Sean answered. ‘You’re a witness, until I say otherwise. But we’ll still need to speak with your wife.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Donnelly reassured Hellier. ‘We won’t tell her what we’re investigating.’

‘Then what will you tell her?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. That we’re looking into an identity fraud, a case of mistaken identity,’ Donnelly offered. ‘The sooner she can confirm you were at home Wednesday night, the sooner we can clear the whole mess up. Fair enough?’

‘You do want to help us, don’t you, Mr Hellier?’ Sean asked.

Hellier sat silently for a time before leaning forward and snatching a pen and paper. He quickly scribbled something down and pushed the paper towards Donnelly. ‘My wife’s name and my home address,’ he said. ‘I’ve assumed a phone call wouldn’t satisfy you gentlemen.’

‘Much obliged,’ Donnelly said, slipping the note into his jacket pocket.

‘Will she be at home now?’ Sean asked.

‘Possibly,’ Hellier answered.

‘Good,’ was all Sean replied.

‘And when my wife verifies that I was at home, I’m assuming that will be the end of it.’

Sean almost laughed. ‘No, Mr Hellier, it’s a little more complicated than that. We need you to come to the station within the next two days. Whenever is convenient to you will be fine. Bring that solicitor too, if you want.’

‘But I’ve told you all I know,’ Hellier argued. ‘I’m sorry, but I really can’t help you.’

‘You had sex with a young man who’s now dead,’ Sean told him. ‘Murdered. We’ve taken samples from the victim’s body. Forensic samples. If you had sex with him within the last couple of weeks, part of you could still be on the victim. We need to eliminate any foreign samples found on the body that may have been left by you.’

‘That really won’t be necessary. I always used a condom. I may be foolish, but I’m not mad. You won’t find any …’ Hellier stalled, trying to think of suitable words ‘… thing belonging to me on his body. You don’t need to examine me.’

Sean stood up and leaned in close to Hellier. ‘Oh yes I do, Mr Hellier. And you will give me what I need. If you don’t, then I’ll arrest you on suspicion of murder and take the samples anyway. I’ll get a warrant and search your home. I’ll search this office – and we won’t be as discreet about our business as we’ve been so far.’

He wasn’t bluffing; the more serious the offence, the more he could stretch his powers to the limit. He opened his wallet, took out one of his business cards and threw it on the desk. ‘That’s my office and mobile numbers. You have a day to call me. And I’ll require a full written statement from you at the same time. You’ll have to tell us about your relationship with Daniel Graydon. Absolutely everything. One day to call, Mr Hellier, and then—’

The door to Hellier’s office unexpectedly swung open. Another well-dressed man entered the office without asking. Sean assumed the rich-looking man in his late thirties or early forties had to be Hellier’s boss. He looked the man over, taking in details only a cop would see. He did it to everybody nearly all the time, an occupational hazard he was almost unaware of. The man had purpose and poise, not just because of his physical presence: he was at least six foot tall, strong and fit, his tailored suit not disguising his deep chest and slim waist. But he also had an aura about him, a sense of power and control. Sean knew the man would be the sort of boss his underlings would both fear and love.

‘James.’ The well-dressed man spoke into the room. ‘I heard about the theft. I trust you got hold of your bank before the bastards had a chance to cash any cheques?’ The man’s voice matched everything else about him: authoritative and dominating, but soothing and reassuring at the same time. Sean felt it was almost gravitational, drawing whoever he was talking to towards him, like a brilliant actor performing on the stage.

‘Yes. Yes I did. Panic over,’ Hellier told him.

The well-dressed man thrust out a hand toward Sean and Donnelly. ‘Sebastian Gibran. Senior Partner here. Always a pleasure to help the police in any way we can. Any idea who you’re looking for?’

‘No. Not yet,’ said Sean, shaking his hand, feeling a little thrown off centre by Gibran’s very presence. The handshake was firm, but not overpowering, although Sean believed Gibran could have crushed his hand if he’d wanted to.

‘Well, anything we can do to help, just let me know.’ Gibran’s smile was perfect – straight white teeth that shone almost as brightly as his eyes − and radiated warmth and charm, all wrapped in a protective sheath of power.

‘Thank you. I will,’ Sean replied. ‘Don’t get up, Mr Hellier. We’ll let ourselves out. And thanks for your time.’ Both detectives stood to leave the office.

‘Allow me to show you out,’ Gibran offered.

‘We’ll be fine,’ Sean said, keen to be away so that he and Donnelly could begin to speak freely. ‘I’m sure you’re very busy.’

‘I insist,’ Gibran argued, once again flashing his mouthful of brilliant white teeth. ‘Please, follow me.’

Sean and Donnelly followed Gibran, who smiled and nodded his acknowledgement to staff members they passed, using Christian names to greet each and every one. Sean had worked in the same office for over two years and still struggled to remember everyone’s names. Gibran’s smoothness only made him dislike him all the more. When they were alone, Gibran spoke again. ‘Where did you say you were from?’

‘We informed Mr Hellier where we are from,’ Sean responded.

‘I’m sure you did,’ Gibran replied. ‘But you didn’t tell me.’