Free Cold Killing: A Novel by Luke Delaney Page B

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 gave the man the once-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, and not just because of his physical presence: he was at least six feet 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 checks?” 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 toward 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 center 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 acknowledgment 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 name. Gibran’s smoothness only made Sean dislike him all the more. When they were alone, Gibran spoke again. “Where did you say you were from?”
    “We informed Mr. Hellier of where we are from,” Sean responded.
    “I’m sure you did,” Gibran replied. “But you didn’t tell me.”
    “Our dealings with Mr. Hellier are confidential,” Sean said firmly. “If he wants to tell you more, that’s up to him.”
    “If James is involved in anything that could damage the reputation of this institution, then I should be informed, Inspector,” Gibran argued. “Look,” he said, taking a conciliatory tone, the smile back in place, “a lot of people rely on me for their welfare and security in these uncertain times. It is my responsibility to protect their interests. The need of the many is greater than the need of the individual.”
    “Meaning if Hellier looks like he’s going to be bad for business, you’ll throw him to the wolves,” Donnelly accused.
    Gibran stared hard at Donnelly before speaking again. “James is very privileged to have both a detective inspector and a detective sergeant investigating what appears to be a minor