All the Devils Are Here(92)

“Did you like it?” Daniel asked, trying to break the ice. “My oldest daughter’s dying to go. She’s been to Brussels to see the Pissing Boy, but—”

“What are you talking about?” Fontaine interrupted his babbling, glancing up from her notes.

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.”

“No need to patronize me, Monsieur Gamache. Why are you really here?”

Now he was confused. He’d actually already told her the truth.

“My father told me you might suspect me if you found out I’d lied, so I wanted to come in and tell you the truth. I knew Monsieur Plessner, but not well. Hardly a relationship.”

“Did Plessner ever mention Stephen Horowitz?”

“Yes, they were friends. It’s how Monsieur Plessner came to me.”

“Through Monsieur Horowitz? Was he directing the investments? Was he part of the venture capital project?”

“I don’t think so. Stephen never asked about what we were investing in, and I never volunteered any information.”

Commander Fontaine stared at him, but, while blushing even more furiously, Daniel didn’t drop his eyes.

This was, after all, the truth.

“Did you know that Stephen Horowitz has quite a large account at your bank?”

“No, but I’m not surprised. He’d want money in France. He spends quite a bit of time here.”

“But Horowitz never approached you about investing in venture capital?”

“No. Never.”

“When was the last time you saw Monsieur Plessner?”

“Six weeks ago.”

“And you haven’t spoken since?”

“We spoke yes, on the phone. He called a few times. We discussed other possibilities.”

“Like what?”

“Well, honestly, we didn’t get far. The screwdriver people had told him about a company that makes screws, and another that makes washers. You know, the metal ring thing you put before a screw.”

“And?”

“And nothing. These things take months of investigating, sometimes years. Monsieur Plessner was doing some digging around, but he didn’t seem all that enthusiastic. Look, I can guarantee you that whatever the motive was for killing him, it had nothing to do with what we were working on. No one’s going to get rich, or poor, in those investments.”

Fontaine rose. “Thank you for coming in.”

Daniel also got up, surprised the interview was over so quickly and so abruptly. “Thank you for listening.”