“I will.” Neil folded his arms over his chest. “Well, then. Are you going to arrest me or not?”
“We’ll see.” Josiah gave him a pleasant smile. “What happened, Neil?” he asked quietly, changing tack. “You colluded with Tyler to bring Alex down – why the change of heart? Why do you want him back now?”
“I wanted to teach him a lesson, but I never stopped loving him,” Neil retorted, his eyes dark. “I tried to make a life for myself, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. How could I just let him rot as an IS? I had to save him.”
“You thought you’d buy him or escape with him, and he’d be so grateful that he’d finally love you back?”
“Oh, he’s never stopped loving me,” Neil said confidently.
There was really no arguing with this level of delusion, Josiah could see that.
“Thank you for your time, Mr Grant,” he said curtly. “Please report to Inquisitus at nine a.m. tomorrow for a formal interview. I suggest you think about that alibi, as I can assure you it’s important. You are entitled to legal representation, which Inquisitus can provide if you so wish.” He turned to go and had almost reached the door when Neil spoke.
“I was with the boy I took to the show. Eric. I was with him when Dacre was killed.”
Josiah turned back. “Getting your money’s worth from him? I’m assuming he’s a rent boy?”
“Of course he’s a rent boy. I was upset after the show, and he hung around for a few days afterwards to be with me.”
“How kind.”
“Not really. When he left, he took my screen and holopad with him.”
“Did you report it?”
“Oh, please.” Neil rolled his eyes. “Like the Thorities care about petty theft.”
Thorities. Josiah mused on his use of the word. He was familiar with it, of course, having grown up in the Quarterlands, but he’d rarely heard it used elsewhere. Maybe these new floating cities, full of refugees from the Quarterlands, had adopted the same language patterns, and Neil had picked it up. Although Neil didn’t strike him as someone who mixed well with others.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Please bring Eric’s details to your interview tomorrow, so we can contact him.” Not that it was worth it. If Eric did exist, Neil could easily pay him to lie about where he’d been on the day of Elliot’s murder.
“Fine. But I didn’t kill Dacre,” Neil fumed as Josiah turned to leave. “And I will tell everyone that you’re trying to pin this on me because you want Alex for yourself.”
Josiah sighed and glanced over his shoulder. “Go ahead, Mr Grant. In the meantime, I’ll see you tomorrow at nine a.m.”
Neil followed him to the door and slammed it shut furiously behind him when he left.
Josiah pondered the whole exchange in his duck on the way back to Inquisitus. It had started to rain, and the news channels were all warning about Storm Jasper, which was starting to blow in. Had Neil killed Elliot Dacre? Neil was right that he had no hard evidence, nothing but supposition and guesswork, which wouldn’t wash in court. There was also the danger of latching on to Neil simply because he had no other suspects. On the other hand, Neil had shown himself to be a bitter, resentful man, prone to angry outbursts and nursing a powerful sense of paranoia. Such a man could very easily have snapped and killed Dacre, but had he?
Well, if his job were easy, he’d no doubt find it boring. It was puzzles like this that kept him interested.
Neil’s reaction to being accused of murder had been outrage, unlike his far more guilty reaction to the lesser charge of lurking outside Josiah’s house. Those boot prints in the garden had belonged to a heavy man with big feet, and Neil ticked both those boxes.
Then there was the question of how Neil had enough money to bid on an IS as expensive as Alex. Unless… Was it possible he was involved in something illegal? Josiah put in a call to his confidential informant – it was time to do some more digging.
He arranged to meet Mahmoud on their usual bench in Ghost Eye. The weather was turning nasty, so they ran for the nearest café and sat inside, watching the rain pound against the window.
“Do you have anything for me on the gun that killed Dacre?” Josiah asked, handing Mahmoud a fully loaded cash card.
“Not yet, but these things take time. From the news, I thought you’d lost interest in this case,” Mahmoud said, pocketing the card. “You seem to have other fish to fry now. Bigger fish.”
“Maybe the two are linked.” Josiah glanced at him. “I have a new assignment for you, anyway. I want everything you can find about this man.” He handed Mahmoud a datacard with Neil’s details on it.
“Ah. Now this, I think, will be easier than finding the gun in the haystack you asked me to look for.” Mahmoud gave a little whistle as he scanned the datacard.
“You know him?” Josiah asked, surprised. He hadn’t expected an answer so soon.
“I knowofhim.” Mahmoud grinned. “He works for a drug cartel.”
