I touched her knee. “It’s okay, honey. He sees a nice, well-dressed couple and presumes that’s what we were here for.”
Dave shrugged. “Your man has it right. So no need to get out whatever weapon you’ve got hidden inside your Louis Vuitton.” Very good instincts.
Haze loosened her grip on her handbag and continued to stare at Dave steadily.
“We just want information.” I adjusted my tie. “An associate of yours has been following us. You paid him to.”
Dave tensed.
“But we know it was a pass-on,” I continued. “You were hired by someone else. We had the full rundown of the pyramid scheme.”
“Rob is fucking useless.” Dave shook his head. “He’s my wife’s nephew. Wants to have a go at learning the family business.”
“I sympathize.” Nepotism was clearly the only way Rob had got the work. “We just need to know who hired you and we’ll be on our way.”
Dave bridged his hands together. “I don’t want any trouble.”
I smiled. “And we will not give any if you tell us what we want to know.” I looked around the living room. “Rob was so kind in giving us this address, but he’s made you a little vulnerable. I don’tthink you want the police sniffing around here. Or looking into your finances.”
Haze brushed a bit of imaginary fluff off my shoulder. “The authorities really tend to listen to a well-dressed upstanding member of the community when they have concerns about an individual.” She leaned forward. “He’sall about the chat.I’ma little more physical when it comes to being persuasive.” She tapped her handbag.
Dave’s eyes darted toward the door. Was there someone out there?
He cleared his throat. “I don’t think anyone would be too upset if I told you that a fake name made the booking, but that the payment was made through an Eastern European bank account in the name of some shell company.”
Exactly how The Corporation operated.
“You can take heart in the fact that if they wanted harm done to you, they would’ve gone for a different package. This was low-level surveillance—as you can tell by the caliber of man I sent to do it.”
I had reached the same conclusion. The Chameleon didn’t want us dead, he just wanted to know what we were up to.
I stood up. “Thank you for your time.”
Haze followed suit.
Dave stayed seated. “You won’t come back.”
Haze pretended it had been a question. “Don’t take on any other jobs that involve us, and no—we won’t come back.”
Dave tilted his head. “Do you two ever freelance? I’m always looking to expand my database. Should I get your details in case—”
I cut him off. “We work to our own agenda. Our skills are not for sale.”
Dave stood up. “Then I wish you well.” He led us out to the hallway and opened the front door. Haze walked out onto the street.
Dave touched my arm. “Is my wife going to be angry at the state in which you left her beloved nephew?”
“He’s fine. We strongly advised him to find a new job.”
Dave sighed. “Last week, he posted a photo of a knife and a bag of coke with the caption ‘hashtag slayingandsnorting.’ I kinda wish you had killed him.”
There was a noise from the floor above. I stiffened and looked toward the stairs.
“My mother,” said Dave.
It seemed such an unlikely lie that it must be the truth. And it explained the house.
Dave called up the stairs. “I’m coming, Ma!” He looked back to me. “She has dementia.”
