Page 151 of All the Devils Are Here

He gestured toward a poster of Copenhagen Harbor. Florence had become obsessed with the story that Copenhagen Harbor had once been the home of all mermaids.

“I don’t even know where that is. Never been out of France. Why would I?”

“Right. Why would you?”

She closed the file and focused on him. “Why did you lie to us about knowing Alexander Francis Plessner?”

“I should have told you,” Daniel admitted. “I’m sorry. I think as an investment banker, especially with venture capital, it’s ingrained to be careful. We let something slip, any tiny detail, and suddenly a potential investment is blown.”

“So you lie? To the police? In a murder investigation?”

“It was a mistake,” he said, sitting forward. “I was shocked when you said the dead man was Alexander Plessner. But I barely knew him, and I knew that what we were working on couldn’t have anything to do with his death.”

“What were you working on?”

“Some small company had come up with a new design for a screwdriver.”

Now it was her turn to raise her brows. “Screwdriver? The tool?”

“Yes. I wanted to look for something bigger to invest in, but Monsieur Plessner thought the bank should start small.”

“The screwdriver.”

“Oui. You see why I knew it couldn’t have anything to do with me. Unless he was killed with a screwdriver.”

He smiled. She did not.

“And did you?”

“Kill him?”

“Invest.”

“Yes. Monsieur Plessner is, was, an engineer, so he had some idea what was interesting about the design.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not a clue. But I’d looked at their financials and it seemed a low-risk investment. If it failed, we hadn’t plunged a lot of money in. And if it succeeded, well …”

“Well, what? You’d make a fortune?”

Daniel gave a single snort of amusement. “Not with that company.”

“Then why invest?”

“It was a dry run. What Stephen would call a starter pancake. The one that you drop on the floor but learn from.”

Irena Fontaine didn’t take her eyes off him. “Do you not find it strange that you’re the only one in this whole case who has a relationship with both victims?”

Daniel felt his face tingle as the blood rushed first to it, then away. Like a wave with an undertow. Dragging the last of his bravado out to sea.

“And then,” she added, leaning forward, “you deliberately misled us. Why’re you here now? What changed your mind?”

“Nothing. My father told me to come.”

“Is that right? I had the impression that if your father told you to do something, you’d do the opposite.”

“You’re very perceptive.”