Free The Fire Man by Iain Adams Page A

directors’ responses to all their questions had been refreshing. At no time had he experienced even the slightest impression of evasiveness. Kanelos had spoken frankly about their rather robust attitude to hiring and firing. The company enjoyed, if that was remotely the right word, a high turnover of staff and a reputation as a difficult place to work. Kanelos had even volunteered the fact that some of the office computers were overdue for replacement – hardly a generous concession, but a little unusual nonetheless. All in all, there was no doubt that the fire was arson, but on paper, there seemed no reason to conclude that it was beneficial to Hellenic. And yet … McRae wanted to know more about Mr Kanelos.

9
    Birmingham, May 2007
    Ristorante Di Mario
was a damn sight too quiet for the owners’ liking.
    Nico Speroni gazed despondently at the virtually empty room. Just two lousy white linen-spread tables occupied in a restaurant with sixty covers! And it was eight o’clock on a Friday night! He was losing a fortune. Still, he mused, at least the tired looking guy with the skinny woman at the window table had opened his account with a good, (expensive anyway), bottle of Barolo; he sincerely hoped that they would get through a few more.
    * * *
    Karen looks pretty good
, thought McRae. She’d obviously changed into her little black dress, which was a short, tight-fitting number with a scalloped neckline, in the office. He had been surprised by just how elegant she looked. She always dressed well, though invariably in a smart two-piece fitted suit, but tonight she looked genuinely attractive and her dress emphasised her slim legs and pert figure. The long plain face had been made up with even greater care than usual: the lipstick seemed, to his inexpert eye, a softer shade; her hair, normally a mousy blonde, seemed to have picked up more blonde highlights. Altogether – there was no other word for it – she looked fantastic.
    McRae was wary whenever he was alone with Karen. For some unfathomable reason, she undoubtedly wanted to have more than a professional relationship with him. It was something she was too cool to reveal openly, but which had become more and more apparent over the past few months. The fact that McRae was divorced and had no obvious woman in his life no doubt made it inconceivable to her that he should remain so evasive.
    The mundane explanation was that Drew McRae was both shrewd and ambitious, and even an idiot knew that fooling around with his secretary was not a clever move – not a clever move at all. Apart from that, while he enjoyed her company, she intrigued him and at times like this found her positively alluring, McRae knew in his bones that a relationship with Karen would be disastrous. The woman was too lonely, too damn needy and far too complicated. Truth was, she would be a nightmare. He didn’t really know who he was searching for, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t Karen. Nevertheless, she certainly looked very enticing tonight.
    B
etter hadn’t get pissed or it could get tricky
, he thought, already feeling the effects of the Barolo, which was blending with the burgundy he had previously enjoyed in the wine bar.
    * * *
    After leaving the office, they had dived into the local All Bar One for a pre-dinner drink, canapés (well, crisps actually) and to have a quick business chat while the night was young.
    Karen had done a typically thorough job of researching the garments as he’d requested. Employing the site photographs, her personal back-copies of
Vogue
and
Elle
and God-only-knew-how-many websites, she had reached some initial conclusions – intriguing and potentially worrying conclusions, which suggested that Hellenic’s brands might not be quite as exclusive as Kanelos had implied.
    â€˜Definitely much nearer to Next and Topshop than Bond Street,’ was how she had described the Dido range of youthful little tops and skirts.