Dylan straightened his tie. “I don’t know. She was speaking in Russian.”
Detective Edwards raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Okay. In that case, can you tell me what business you had with Mrs Orlov at the Grantham Hotel last night?”
“If you must know, I met her to call it off.”
“To call what off? You were having an affair?”
Dylan glanced at the tape recorder. If he admitted this on record, would Orlov come after him again?
The detective followed his gaze. “What you say will be treated as strictly confidential, Mr Quinlan.”
He glanced at Jim, who nodded.
“Well, okay, it’s none of your business, but we’d previously met up to have sex maybe two or three times.”
“I see. Was it two or three?”
“I don’t really remember.”
The detective sneered at him as if he was some disgusting slut. “Right. Can you tell me what happened last night? You were seen leaving the hotel with the general manager – Sarah Newell – and a maid.”
Dylan glanced at Jim, who shrugged. “Okay,” Dylan said. “This is the truth. There was this Russian guy with a knife trying to kill me last night. Natalia hid in the bathroom, but she must’ve screamed or something, which alerted Sarah, who came to the room and bashed the guy over the head with a lamp. He was fine; he got up and walked away. We decided to smuggle Natalia out of the hotel dressed as a maid, for her safety as well as mine. Alright? That’s the truth.”
“I see… And do you think the same knifeman might’ve killed her today?”
“No clue. I didn’t see anything until she’d already been… stabbed.”
“And why would anyone want her dead?”
“Isn’t that your job to find out?”
The detective glared blankly. “I’m asking for your opinion.”
“Alright, well – if you want my opinion – I’d say you need to start with the jealous husband. I assume you’re asking Mr Orlov similar questions, huh?”
Detective Edwards didn’t blink. “I believe you and Mr Orlov had a business meeting this morning. What was discussed there?”
“That’s confidential, sorry. But it was nothing to do with last night. Or Natalia.”
She softened slightly. “Mr Quinlan – off the record – I strongly recommend you don’t continue down that road with Vladimir Orlov. He’s trouble.”
Dylan leaned forward and stared into her eyes. “Thanks for the tipoff. Can I go now?”
Chapter Eleven
Sarah was exhausted by the time she left the police station with Dylan and Joseph. At times during her interview she’d felt as if the police were interrogating her, rather than asking for information. And she hadn’t understood what relevance it was that Dylan was a former boyfriend of hers, but this fact seemed to be of great interest to the detective. Thankfully Dylan’s lawyer had been very professional and ensured she only answered the questions she was comfortable with.
They all got a cab back to Dylan’s apartment, where he’d been living for the last few months to oversee the Grafton Techs takeover. Sarah refrained from gasping as she walked in. Dylan had obviously done very well for himself in the years since they’d split up. The apartment was huge and modern; clean and immaculate. His monthly rent was probably the equivalent of a year’s wages for some of her staff at the hotel. It was pure luxury. But… it was characterless, like living inside the glossy-but-bland pages of a home-furnishings catalogue. The cream walls, beige carpets, and angular furniture were dull enough, but the lack of personal artefacts – such as books or photos – made the place feel utterly soulless. She knew Dylan wasn’t planning to move here permanently, but still… did he actually live here, or just exist?
Dylan showed them through to the lavish kitchen. It was metallic and minimalistic, reminding Sarah of a futuristic movie. But the clinical décor was quite fitting for how Sarah was currently feeling. Detached. Cold. Emotionless…
Dylan pulled her out of her thoughts with a kiss her on the lips – making her feel shy in front of Joseph. Then he headed back to the living room. “Hey, Joe, make Sarah a cup of tea, okay? I need to call Adam and the others. Make sure they’re all okay.”
Joseph frowned. “Why? What would be wrong?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Let me call them first.”
Sarah unwrapped the plastic from an untouched packet of tea, then she watched as Joseph poured the boiled water from the gleaming kettle into a brand new mug. He stared into the steaming liquid and pressed the teabag up against the side of the cup to within an inch of its life.