Page 7 of Veiled Justice
The interviews had to be lightning fast in order to get through all of the guests and the staff who were still there. We took names and addresses and asked if they’d witnessed the murder or seen Helga with anyone.
I had interviewed about fifty people when I finally found Helga Jónson’s employer. Tom Squiggins was twenty-one and had a chip on his shoulder so large you could have dived into a pool from it. He was laughing uproariously with a group of lads like everything was tickety-boo. It immediately set my teeth on edge.
All three of them were tall and lanky. When they were sitting down it was difficult to estimate their height, but I suspected they would tower over me and, at five-foot-eight, I wasn’t a short woman.
‘Squiggins,’ I called as I walked over to the group sprawled in the high-back wing chairs.
‘That’s me, love.’ The tall redhead winked.
‘It’s Inspector Wise,’ I snapped.
His flirtatious energy shrivelled a little but it didn’t die. He sat up straighter in his chair. ‘Didn’t realise they let women be Inspectors now,’ he muttered, eyeing me.
His blond friend shoved him. ‘Only for like the last fifty years, Squigsy.’ He snickered.
‘And you are?’ I asked the blond.
‘Caspian Katz.’ He gave me a bow, which felt mocking. Katz had a jawline that could easily send him modelling down a catwalk but his brash body language made me think he hadn’t worked a day in his life.
‘Of the Katz PR empire,’ another lad helpfully interjected.
‘And you are?’
The mousy brunette smiled. ‘I’m Jameson Montague.’ He didn’t have Katz’s jawline, but he had huge blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a smile that could drop most panties without effort. Luckily, my pants were all but glued to me and his twinkling blues had no effect.
‘And what’s your family business, Montague?’ I asked coolly.
‘Property,’ he said airily.
Of course it was. I turned to the redhead. ‘Squiggins, I understand you hired the deceased?’
‘Yeah – and a fat lot of good it looks like she would have been,’ he grumbled. ‘What kind of bodyguard gets herself stabbed on duty? It’s embarrassing.’
‘I am so sorry her death has embarrassed you,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Why did you hire her in the first place?’
‘Gravitas.’ He shrugged. ‘Having a bodyguard gives me an illusion of mystery and danger. Let me tell you, the ladies lap up that shit. They can’t resist a bit of bad-boy allure.’ He winked again – whatwas it with all of these arseholes and the winking? Did they have eye problems?
‘So to be clear, you hired an ogre bodyguard to make yourself look like a bad boy?’ I said, not bothering to hide my incredulity. Ogre bodyguards were top of the line and they wereexpensive.What a ridiculous waste of money.
‘Yeah, why not?’ He shrugged. He clearly had thousands to burn in hiring someone just to make him look tough.
‘To be fair, it does make sense. Without her, you’d look about as bad boy as Kermit the Frog,’ I shot back with a faux-friendly smile. I wasn’t riling him just because he was annoying me but to test the man underneath the flirty façade.
Sure enough his smile melted like wax in the sun and he shot me a look with his green eyes that were suddenly filled with dislike. ‘Listen, bitch—’
‘That’s Inspector Bitch, to you,’ I said evenly, keeping my smile in place.
Katz kicked Squiggins under the table and he grimaced then applied his best, indifferent poker face. It needed work; I could still see the anger simmering underneath. ‘Whatever,’ he muttered mulishly.
‘What time did Jónson leave your side?’
‘How do you know that she did?’ Jameson Montague asked triumphantly, like he’d caught me out with a clever question.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Otherwise I’m assuming you would have told me about the murder you witnessed.’ I paused. ‘Unless one of you murdered her?’
He reddened. ‘Of course we didn’t!’
‘All right. Let’s try again. What time did she leave your side?’ I asked.
