Chapter 1

“Come on, Mr Fornier,” the female detective growled. “We know your car matches the exact make, model and colour, and we know that you were in the Dovercourt area on the day in question. We’ve got you dead to rights on this. If you don’t start flapping those gums before the prosecutor gets back here, we’re filing charges and you won’t be heading home any time soon.”

Marc sighed, letting a little smirk slip out as he looked at the two detectives. When he’d gotten the visit from them at his office, he’d been a little surprised and had gone with them willingly down to the station. Apparently, he’d potentially been the witness to a crime and they wanted to ask him some questions. That story had quickly changed as the two women got him into an interrogation room. The angry one was a thin, attractive redhead wearing a smart pantsuit with her badge hanging from a chain around her neck, while the other one was just as thin but of some sort of Asian descent, with striking eyes that seemed to stare through him even while she smiled placidly like she was nothing to be afraid of.

“Mr Fornier, this really is your last chance,” the Asian detective said with a more even tone than her colleague. “Soon it’s going to be out of our hands.”

The only reason Marc hadn’t demanded a lawyer up to this point was because the whole Good Cop, Bad Cop routine was actually kind of fun to watch play out. “Oh, I agree, Detectives,” Marc said. “I’m sure it’ll be out of your hands as soon as you finish checking on my alibi.”

“Just admit that you’re Le Français,” the redhead playing Bad Cop said. She’d introduced herself early on as Detective Connors, but Marc liked to think of her as her role in this little play. “We’ve got you, you might as well own it. There are no outs anymore. We’ll have your finances locked, we’ll seize every car and property. You start talking now and maybe you’ll see the outside of a prison before your 90th birthday.”

“I may be French, Mademoiselle, but I am not this ‘the French’ you’re speaking of. And your accent is atrocious,” Marc said. “As I told you before, I am in Finance. I was meeting with a client for several hours in the Dovercourt area every day that week.”

“What sort of finance work do you do, Mr Fornier?” Good Cop, aka Detective Xu, asked. While she sat, Bad Cop paced and moved around the room like a caged lioness. Marc couldn’t help but steal glances at Bad Cop’s firm, shapely butt in her slacks whenever she stomped behind Good Cop.

“Considering you came to get me at my office, I would assume you know,” Marc replied.

“Enlighten us,” Bad Cop said, planting her hands on the table and leaning forward somewhat aggressively, her red hair spilling forward.

“I work in corporate acquisitions,” Marc sighed, starting to feel bored with the situation. “I specialize in financial modelling and risk management during mergers, along with auditing - what law enforcement like you might think of as financial forensics - in preparation for companies to get happily married and make little company babies.”

There was a knock on the door to the interrogation room and Bad Cop went to answer it as the other one leaned forward. “That sounds like interesting work, Mr Fornier. It also means you would likely know all the nasty little secrets needed to stay one step ahead-”