I give him a friendly smile, forced as shit. ‘What am I helping with?’ I’m pretty sure this isn’t standard questioning practice, though pointing that out might make me look as guilty as I am. Don’t give him a thing!
He smiles. ‘Can you tell me if this person is familiar to you?’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, and I frown, looking at the photograph he presents. I can feel Price watching me closely, searching for any hint of a reaction.
‘She’s not familiar,’ I lie, and I stun myself with how easily I do. I’ve seen this woman before, and I’ve seen her in The Haven. Not physically, but I got a brief glimpse of her picture before old Mr H repositioned his newspaper on Becker’s desk to cover the blue file. Her harsh black bob on her old pale skin is unmistakable. ‘Sorry I can’t help.’ I look up at Price, and he watches me quietly for a few moments, slowly replacing the photo in his inside pocket.
Then he smiles, but, again, I can’t figure out if it’s sincere or not. ‘Never mind.’
‘Who is she?’ I ask, unable to hold back.
‘Lady Winchester.’
‘Lady?’
‘Yes, a lady.’
‘Why would you think I’d know her?’
‘You work for the Hunt Corporation – the most renowned and exclusive company in the business. Let’s just say that Lady Winchester likes to dabble in the trade. I just wondered if maybe you’d come across her.’
The blue file. That’s all I can see now. Not red like every other file at The Haven. It was blue, standing out from the rest. Why? ‘Maybe you should talk to my—’ I just hold my tongue before I blurt out boyfriend. ‘Boss,’ I finish coolly. ‘I haven’t been at the Hunt Corporation for long.’ Frighteningly, I know exactly what I’m doing. Price won’t be asking Becker anything, and he has no intention to, either. That’s why he’s here asking me. He’s sussing me out. Again, why? I don’t know, but I’m shocking myself, giving off a cool, innocent persona, when on the inside I’m in all kinds of chaos. I’ve lied, and it was instinctive and natural for me to do so.
‘Maybe I’ll do that.’ Price smiles again, this one definitely insincere.
‘What are you investigating?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say.’ He hands me a card, and I take it. ‘Should you happen to think of anything that you think might assist me in my inquiries, give me a call.’
‘But I don’t know what you’re investigating, so how will I know if there’s anything I can help with?’ I’m being smart, and it’s coming oh so naturally. My sinful saint is rubbing off on me.
‘Your relationship with Becker Hunt . . .’ He fades off for effect.
‘Relationship?’ I question. ‘He’s my boss.’
Price nods slowly, eyeing me with too much interest. ‘Good day, Miss Cole.’ He stands and backs away slowly.
Good Lord, I just lied to the police, and I did it without any hesitation. I really am drowning in Becker’s world, and, oddly, I don’t feel any regret. After all, I made my decision when he turned up in Helston and brought me back. I’m in his corrupt maze, and I’m not planning on finding my way out. I love him. So I will protect him. Does he need protecting? What the hell is going on?
‘Good day, Mr Pr—’
‘Actually.’ He stops. ‘Since I have you here, what was Mr Hunt doing at Sotheby’s on the day of the theft?’
While he has me? Cornered, he means. And I have every confidence that he knows exactly why Becker was at Sotheby’s that day. ‘Becker purchased the O’Keeffe in an auction. There was a mix up with the transaction. I was there, too.’ I’m sure he also knows that. ‘We were on our way from Parsonson’s when I received their email. We were passing, so I stopped in to deal with it.’
‘And did you?’
I frown.
‘Deal with it,’ he goes on.
‘You mean pay for it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, no.’ I laugh. ‘It was discovered missing before I completed the transaction online.’
‘Oh, well that was a stroke of luck.’
I regard him carefully. What is he suggesting? ‘Have you spoken to Mr Wilson?’
‘Brent Wilson?’
‘Yes.’
‘Like I said, my colleague is dealing with the case.’
‘Well, perhaps you could tell your colleague to speak to Mr Wilson.’ I smile and get to my feet, seeing Lucy in the distance breaching the exit of her building. Normal. Just act normal.
‘Good day, Mr Price.’ I skirt past him, and quickly head towards my friend.