“Do you have any way of getting in contact with your donors?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, no. Once they’ve donated the money, their part is done.” Haruto shrugged apologetically, as if it were somehow his fault.
I sighed. I would like something to go easily just once. Just once. Was that too much to ask? “I guess our next step is to track down something tangible about Allraise Ventures. I’m going to leave your protective detail in place for now. They will call me the moment they see something suspicious.” I gave Collins and Fawkes a pointed look, and Collins slapped Fawkes on the leg to wake her up. She snorted and shot upright.
“I’m awake,” she said quickly.
“We’ll call you, sir,” Collins promised.
“Good. This is where we leave you then. We’ve got another suspect to question.”
Fletcher and I stood and said goodbye to Haruto before we left him with the other constables, and I flipped the switch in my brain to hop over to the Wair case. We had a suspect stewing in interrogation. I needed another cup of coffee first. If only there was a way to add an extra shot of espresso or even a splash of whiskey. The pre-made pot just wasn’t cutting it.
“Ready to talk to a kidnapper?” I asked Fletcher, blowing on the hot coffee before I took a sip. I dumped a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and some milk into it, and that helped a bit.
Fletcher pounded her fist into her other hand. Moving as one, we crossed the station floor and let ourselves into the interrogation room, and I slammed the door behind us.
O’Connell couldn’t help but jump. He’d been given a fresh shirt and joggers, and I could see the bump of the bandage around his leg through the loose fabric. His biceps were as large as my head and strained the sleeves of his shirt, coated in a dark hair to match his head. After his initial shock, he gathered himself and glared at us as we took our seats across the table.
“Seamus O’Connell,” I began. “Quite a record you’ve racked up. What made you decide to add kidnapping to the list?”
“I’m not saying anything without my lawyer present,” O’Connell drawled.
I wanted to smack the smug look off his face, but instead, I opened the manilla folder in my lap. “Yes. It says here you called Smith, Flynn, and MacDonald. That’s a pretty high calibre firm, isn’t it, Fletcher?”
“Sure is,” Fletcher answered helpfully. “How does a common criminal like you afford representation like that?”
O’Connell didn’t answer, but I saw a sliver of unease pass through his eyes.
“Unfortunately, we just got word that your appointed lawyer is stuck in traffic, so it might be awhile before he gets here.”
“I’m not saying a thing without her here,” O’Connell repeated.
“Here’s the issue, though, we don’t have time for that.” I sounded almost apologetic, and I managed to keep the smirk off my lips. “So why don’t you just tell us everything? We’ve got you for kidnapping, assaulting an officer, interfering with a police investigation… Am I missing anything, Fletcher?”
“Being a prick?” Fletcher suggested.
“Sadly, that’s not punishable by law, but the others do come with some hefty prison sentences. How much more of your life do you want to waste behind bars?”
O’Connell had already been in prison for three years for assault and aggravated robbery. From the grey in his beard, he was getting on in life. I was hoping his desire to avoid prison would be stronger than his loyalty to his employer. I was sure there had to be someone else behind this, someone paying for that high-powered lawyer currently stuck in traffic. The lackeys we’d encountered so far didn’t really seem like the scheming type.
O’Connell hesitated, and I could tell I was getting to him. Undoubtedly, Smith, Flynn, and MacDonald could wriggle him out of any charge we threw his way, but maybe he was too dumb to realize that.
“Tell us what we want to know, and I’m sure we can come to an arrangement,” I said, trying to push him over the line into agreeing. Fletcher leaned forward as if sensing our oncoming victory.
But O’Connell doubled down and shook his head. “Lawyer. Now.”
I saw a flash of myself leaping over the table to smash his stupid, thick face into the wall behind him, but I shook the image away, forcing my face calm so O’Connell wouldn’t know he was getting under my skin.
“Fine,” I said and snapped his file shut. “We’ll be back when your lawyer arrives.”
I stood sharply and stalked out the door, though I took care not to slam it this time. “That went well.”
“What an absolute prick,” Fletcher huffed. “Did you also want to hit him over the head with a blunt object?”
“I was thinking the wall.”
Fletcher laughed quietly. “Are we going to wait for his lawyer?”
“Right now, we’re going to see MacGowan. Maybe there’s he didn’t think of before.”
“What are we going to tell Ainslee?” Fletcher asked as we made our way towards the back of the station where the holding cells were kept.
“I have no idea. The truth, I guess.” Ainslee Wair had a right to know what was going on in the case, even if it would cause her pain.
I held the door open for Fletcher, and we entered the cool, grey stone corridor that led to the holding cells. A glass partition blocked the hallway off from the rest of the room, and we signed in with the clerk there before he buzzed us through and pointed us towards MacGowan’s cell.
The thief lay on his back on the low wooden bench at the back of the cell, hands tucked behind his head, one knee bent. His eyes were closed, but I could tell he wasn’t sleeping. I rapped on the bars, and his eyes cracked open, his head turning to regard us.
“Looks like it
