Page 146 of Slack Tide Kill

"Sit, then."

Sally took the right couch, Liam the left, which left Meeks in the bottom of the U, where he had to keep looking side to side to speak to them. He scowled.

"Where did you hear about a seal?"

"We were just with Gerald Spate. Old Reactor Logistics colleague of yours."

Meeks offered a wry smile. Back in control again. "I'm sure Gerald Spate says a lot." He affected a bored tone. "He always did. The man is verbally incontinent."

"He thinks Bledd killed Richter because he was carving up a beached seal. But you disagree?"

"I'm sure I have no opinions on the matter of a 30-year-old murder."

Sally studied him. Everything about this man was affected. The clothing, the easel, even his voice; it had coarsened the moment he realized they weren't from the press. "But that's not true, is it? I think you're lying to us."

"I can't help what you think, officer. Neither am I responsible for it. If you have charges to lay, do so. If not, I would ask you to kindly trot along back the way you came." He gestured to the kitchen.

Sally didn't budge. He'd twitched when she'd mentioned the seal. There had to be something here, she just needed to find the way to get it out. "According to Gerald Spate, Roarke Rook came into your home seeking full ownership of Reactor Logistics. He tied your right arm to the wall of this conservatory and began pulling with a digger. Was that just verbal incontinence, too?"

"Spate is a fantasist." Meeks' tone was chilly. "I have no comment on any of that."

Sally thought back to the wince as he tossed his paintbrush. "Now I know you're lying. He wrecked your right arm with that stunt, and it's still wrecked to this day. Looks painful. How can you ever feel safe in your home again?"

Meeks' gaze bored into her. "I have nothing further to say. Reactor Logistics is a thoroughly closed book."

"Not closed. Moved. A book you started writing with both Reginald Rook and Gerald Spate, both of them inveterate criminals." Meeks' cheek twitched. "And before you cry innocence, let me say we're gathering data on the large number of illicit shops you run, including vapes, barbers and coin laundries, all for the purpose of washing the Rooks' smuggling money."

Meeks' expression did not shift again. "Is that it? You're 'gathering evidence' on me? So you don't actually have anything?" He leaned back in his chair, surveying them. "Maybe you need to rethink this approach, officers. In the industry, we call this going off half-cocked."

A reptilian smile inched across his face. Maybe the first sign of the true lizard underneath the kaftan.

"It won't take long," Sally countered. "Raid a few shops and we'll have everything we need."

"So come back when that fictional event transpires. If you can, indeed, get warrants, you will find no wrongdoing, and no direct connection to myself. I am little more than a shadow partner, a minority shareholder, in several small limited companies. Least of these was Reactor Logistics, a business that rarely did anything more than breakeven; a business which I am now fully divested from, along with all other Rook affairs."

"Craw-Craw!" came a high-pitched bellow from the kitchen. "Get rid of them, will you? They're blocking the drive."

"Now, if you would be so kind? I expect our business here is transacted. I'd hate to call the impound lot – I am shadow partner there, too, as it happens – and have them tow a police car for blocking a private roadway."

His smile lingered.

Sally glared. She'd barely started down the corruption track, and he'd called their bluff. But then he'd given something away, too.

"Reactor Logistics barely broke even. Is that what you're saying?"

"Raid them too." He waved his left hand. "Check the financial records. I'm sure you'll find–"

"We did. We already know." She leaned forward. "So why did Roarke Rook want it so badly?"

Meeks' eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid I have no idea. It wasn't exactly a two-way conversation. And what he did say to me made no sense at all."

Sally leaned in. Maybe he was giving them something. "What did he say?"

"Some rabid nonsense about his uncle. Needing it for his uncle. But of course, Reg Rook had no brothers. There was no uncle." He chuckled. "I think Roarke was high on his own supply, to be frank."

Sally chewed on that. "That's it? What about Richter and the seal?"

"I don't know anything about a–"