Page 44 of Slack Tide Kill

Rook just chuckled. "You got me there, guvnor. Basically, we run a talent agency, OK? They work a little with us, they move on."

"They're victims of human trafficking, indentured by you."

Rook held up his hands. "I didn't indenture shit, lady. None of that's my doing, is it? I'm a businessman, like my brothers."

"Those girls were terrified of you," Sally pressed. "They claim they were beaten. We're looking into evidence of rape."

"Rape? Fuck that, that's not how we roll. And as for terror, well, maybe they're just skittish bitches, nervy about going on camera. Simple creatures, you know?" He grinned. "Bird-boned."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It's just, part of the appeal, isn't it? Tits and ass, sure, but graceful too. Slender limbs. Slender necks."

A rush of hot blood ran to Sally's cheeks. Rook noticed and his grin spread.

"You heard that your brother assaulted me in the mud?"

Rook made a show of surprise. "My brother did what? I'm shocked, Officer. I think you must be mistaken. My brother would never hurt a fly."

Liam was looking at Sally now too, concern etched in his features.

Sally went on. "Last night you picked up the girls for this 'talent agency'. 3 a.m. You went with your brothers and your dogs down to Dungeness."

"Never happened."

"The girls were waiting in your father's old Crab Shack. Gives you deniability on the way they arrived here, offers a clearing house for the trafficking gangs. Then you charge an extra tax; all the girls have to perform on your livestream."

Rook's face took on a quizzical look. "That's an interesting story. Incendiary, some might say. Nothing to do with us, though."

Sally leaned closer, shifting tack smoothly. "Where are they? Roarke and the others?"

"How would I know? I'm in here."

"They ran. Right before that, your brother was on a call. It was heated. Who was he talking to?"

"I think it was your mum."

Liam snorted. Sally didn't let up. "Did you kill that boy, out on the beach last night?"

"Did I kill him? Come on now, I just said I wasn't even on the bloody beach, didn't I? Make your mind up, I'm either trafficking girls or murdering boys, but hardly going to be both, is it?"

"That's a good point." Sally looked at Liam. He produced a printout from a folder and slid it across the table.

"And this is?" Rook demanded.

"Preliminary forensic analysis of particulate matter," Liam said. "Found in the back of your van, as well as in the soles of your shoes and the discarded boots the girls in your 'talent agency' were wearing."

"In English," Rook said, as his lawyer picked up the paper.

"In brief, the grit in your van, in your boots and in the girls' boots matches the shingle from Dungeness."

Rook snorted. "So bloody what? That grit's everywhere. Doesn't mean we were down there last night, does it?"

Liam produced another piece of paper and slid it over. "Further particulate analysis of the rotten wood in the Crab Shack floorboards. It's cheap plywood, crumbling with a black mold infection, also partially infused with thermally degraded triglyceride matrix B."

"Matrix what?"

Liam waved a hand. "A major after product of degraded cooking oil. The kind of thing you'd find in a seaside Crab Shack. Splashed liberally."