The buzzer on Aurelian’s desk com sounded. “Colin Turner to see you, Mr. Reynard,” said Elayna.
“Send him in,” answered Aurelian. He quickly pulled up Turner’s employee profile as the man himself entered the room.
Colin Turner looked fairly innocuous and unremarkable, a man of medium build and brown hair in a slightly rumpled suit. His demeanour was slightly nervous as he said, “You asked to see me, sir?”
“Yes.” Aurelian gestured for him to have a seat.
Elayna stood behind him, raised an eyebrow, and mouthed the word,coffee?Aurelian gave a slight shake of his head and she left, closing the door behind him.
“Mr. Turner,” said Aurelian, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “You’ve been a bit of a naughty lad.”
Turner’s face was neutral. “How do you mean, sir?” he replied.
Doesn’t immediately incriminate himself. Not a total idiot.A thought came to Aurelian.Might be useful…
“Mr. Turner, do you enjoy working here?”
“Of course, sir.” Turner nodded.
Hit him with the switch-up.“And you also enjoy an establishment called the Folly Cage,” Aurelian continued.
Still no change in Turner’s expression. “I’ve been there, sir.”
Now the curve ball.“Mr. Turner, are you satisfied with your salary and compensation here?”
“Yes, sir. Quite satisfied.” Turner radiated earnest confusion.
And the fastball, right down the middle.“Then, why would you pay dancers at the Folly Cage with counterfeit credits?” Aurelian watched his face closely.
Not even a flicker. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Reynard.”All right, so he can keep his cool. I can use him to my advantage, I hope.
“Yes, you do, Mr. Turner. You’ve been caught dead to rights. I have the phony bills, security cam footage, and testimony. But we’re not going to worry about that right now.”
Turner’s eyes narrowed.
“You’ve been caught, Mr. Turner, but you’re being given a chance at redemption,” Aurelian continued. “Are you interested?”
Colin Turner wasn’t tipping his hand just yet. “Without any comment on the first matter, Mr. Reynard, let’s say I was interested in what you were offering. What might this chance at redemption entail?”
“Before we come to that, Mr. Turner, let’s be very clear. No more funny money. If you want to enjoy the company of dancers, pay them what you owe them. And tip them as well, for goodness’ sake.”
“Go on, sir,” replied Turner, with a very slight nod.
“All right. I’m going to give you a set of dates. You’re going to use your less-than-legal skills to examine financial transactions of the Pleasure House, internal and external, within that date range. You’ve a knack for shady things; find me something shady.” Aurelian wrote the dates down on a slip of paper and slid it across his desk.
Turner examined it and looked up sharply. “That’s around the time that girl was murdered—whatshername. Talia Sommers.”
“You are absolutely correct, Mr. Turner,” said Aurelian. “Find something, and the other matter doesn’t ever have to leave this room.”
“Off I go, then,” said Turner, standing up and putting the slip of paper in his pocket.
He turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob, when Aurelian said, “Mr. Turner.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Tip the girls next time, as I said. But don’t tip anyone else off, or no deal.”
“Understood, Mr. Reynard.” Colin Turner slipped out the door.
