Page 45 of Forty Days and One Knight
A snort erupted from Amar as he nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, well, Ian Sawyer tends to be a bit brash and uncouth at times, but he and his men are good at what they do, so His Royal Highness insists on keeping them on retainer.” He opened the folder—the first page was blank—and took a pen from his shirt pocket. “Before we start, did you remember anything that happened before or during the cruise that maybe you forgot to tell us about? I mean, sometimes people recall things a few days or weeks later that they hadn’t thought of at first.”
The weasel relaxed back in the chair but frowned when it tilted to the side with a thump. Darius took note that Diallo’s eyes shifted to the left as he thought for a moment. Experts often say that when someone looks to the left, they are trying to recall the truth; when they look to the right, they’re trying to make something up.
“I can’t think of anything I haven’t already told you. The cruise was going great—we were all having a good time—and we were supposed to meet the girls after they went to the waterfalls.”
“And nothing out of the ordinary happened before the cruise?” Amar asked.
“Like what?”
“Anything.”
Diallo shrugged. “Nothing I can think of. Why?”
Avoiding the question, Amar pulled out one of the papers from under the blank one, turned it around, and placed it in front of the other man. He used his pen to point at the phone number that was highlighted numerous times. “Recognize this number?”
Leaning forward, Diallo scanned the page. “No, should I?”
“Considering you called it numerous times in the weeks before the cruise, I would think so.”
His brow furrowed. “Why would I call someone I don’t know?”
“Oh, you know her, all right,” Darius spat. Diallo’s gaze shot to his face. “It’s registered to your ex-girlfriend, Georgette Chapuisa.”
“Georgette? That’s not her number.” His hand went to his hip. “Shit. Where’s my phone? I’ll show you Georgette’s number—I still have it. And what’s this got to do with anything anyway? I haven’t seen her since before New Year’s.”
Amar pulled Diallo’s phone from his back pocket. “Your phone is right here.” Instead of handing it to the other man, he set it on top of the folder. “But you’re correct; it’s not Georgette’s phone. I’ve already had someone contact her, and she never opened an account with this number. But I’d already suspected that. You see, that number,” he pointed to the highlighted one on the paper again, “was forwarded to several other phone numbers before it reached the person you called.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t call that number.”
Diallo was getting agitated. Good, Darius thought. Suspects tended to screw up when they were out of sorts.
“Well, apparently you did, Diallo, because that’s the list of all the calls made from this very phone. You may have deleted the calls from the history on your phone, but that doesn’t remove them from the history your provider was able to give us.”
“I. Did. Not. Make. Those. Calls! I’ve never seen that number before in my life. Now, what’s this all about anyway?”
It was time for Darius to step in and be a bad-ass. Good thing he had no trouble getting into character when it came to this asshole. Striding over to the table, he grabbed the front of Diallo’s shirt, hauled him out of the chair, and shoved him against the wall. Of course, Amar made a feeble “good-guy” remark, telling him to calm down, but Darius ignored him, as expected. Instead, he got right in Diallo’s face. The man had paled and was struggling to get free, but that wasn’t happening. Darius growled. “You little shit, I’ll tell you what it’s all about. You know where that call ended up? Who picked up on the other end of the line?” They were rhetorical questions, and he didn’t wait for any answers. “It was one of the men who kidnapped Tahira, Nala, and Lahana—your buddy, Felix Secada.”
Diallo’s eyes bulged, and his mouth gaped. “Wh-what are you talking about? I don’t know who—who kidnapped them! I—I don’t know anyone by that name! Why would ... crap! Why would you think I had anything to do with that? I would never do anything to hurt them!”
“Bullshit!” Darius yanked on the man’s shirt and pushed him back against the wall again, hard enough to rattle his head. “How much money did you get for them?”
Grasping Darius’s wrists, Diallo tried to get away from him, but his efforts were futile. “You’re fucking crazy! Let me go, damn it! I had nothing to do with any of that! Amar, get him off me! I’ll have you both fucking fired for this!”
Amar tapped Darius on the shoulder. “Easy. I told you to stay calm. Let him go and get out.” Darius hesitated a moment then released the bastard, stepping aside so Amar could move in. “I’m sorry, Diallo. This is not how I wanted this interview to go. Please, sit down. Can I get you something to drink? This won’t take much longer.”
That was the last Darius heard as he left the room and banged the door shut. Without acknowledging the guard, Darius entered the room next to the interrogation room. From there, he’d watch the rest of the show through the two-way mirror. Not bothering to take a seat, he leaned against the window frame.
In the other room, Amar employed several tactics, including trying to convince Diallo that he was involved, that they could show he’d been coerced in some way. But Diallo’s story never changed. Either he was really good at deception or the asshole was telling the truth.
A half hour later, Amar left Diallo alone and met Darius out in the hallway. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, my friend, but I think he’s telling the truth.”
Despite his earlier desire to beat the living daylights out of Diallo, Darius had to admit he agreed with Amar. “So do I.” He ran a hand down his face. “Which means we’re back to square one.”
“Actually, I think it’s square two.”
Darius frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If it wasn’t Diallo, it’s someone he knows. Someone who had access to his phone or was able to hack into it and forward a call. And, someone who knew to use Georgette’s name to open a cell account. If we hadn’t called the numbers, we would have never figured out it wasn’t her phone.”
