The Roubaud Connection (Genevieve Lenard, #12)

“Daniel can join us.” Phillip tried, but wasn’t successful in hiding his understanding of what Manny was doing.

It made me sad that Manny didn’t feel confident in his abilities at present. Yet my respect grew for him. Most people allowed their pride to interfere, most often resulting in them doing more damage than good. Manny knew his strengths and weaknesses. At this moment, we were his strength.

I also got up. “Daniel would be a good choice. He’s good at reading people and would know when to be subtle and when to push harder for answers.”

“I’ll brief Daniel on everything we know so far.” Manny looked at Francine. “Anything else you find, send it to everyone’s devices. There might be something that can help Daniel when they interview him.”

“Will do.” Francine’s smile was soft. She also knew that Manny was willingly standing back because of his emotional state. I was proud of my best friend. Despite her many frivolous interests and ridiculous theories, she understood the importance of allowing Manny to work through his problem in his own way and time. But I could see the toll it was taking on her. Not only was she exhausted, she was also deeply worried about the man she loved.

Manny left my viewing room, already talking to Daniel on the phone. Phillip and I took the elevator down to the foyer and the other elevator to his office.

“Do you need Colin here?” He pressed the button for his floor and turned to me. “We can wait until he and Vinnie return.”

“No. Colin’s expertise is not needed for this interview.”

Phillip’s small smile indicated that he’d meant something else, but was nonetheless pleased with my answer. The elevator doors opened and we walked into the reception area. Tim looked up from his desk, saw Phillip’s face and got up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.” It was clear that Phillip liked the young man. And that he appreciated the concern. “We are expecting a guest. Please show him to conference room two.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “A guest. Ah. Okay. Anything else?”

“Yes, treat him like an honoured guest.”

“An honoured guest.” Tim looked at me, curiosity on his face. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Phillip waited until Tim looked at him. “Everyone will be watching the interview room from Genevieve’s place. Ask Francine to link you in as well.”

His eyes widened in pleasure. “Thank you.”

Phillip nodded and led me to his office. I knew it was probably nothing, but I simply had to clarify. “That building isn’t mine. It’s not my place. Colin bought it from a fund he, Vinnie and Francine set up many years ago.”

“I know.” Phillip leaned his hip against his desk. “In my mind, the team is yours, ergo the building and the floor where your team room and viewing room are also belongs to you. Not literally, of course.”

“They’re here, sir.” Tim leaned around the doorframe, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Who are ‘they’?” Was he referring to the GIPN team bringing in Fran?ois or someone else?

“The team brought in two men. One is a Fran?ois Dumaux and the other his lawyer.”

“His lawyer.” Phillip smiled. “This is going to be interesting.”

Tim’s excitement intensified. “I’m going to make coffee now.”

“Good.” Phillip looked at me. “Would you also like coffee?”

“No.” My mind was too fragile with all the emotional strain to deal with the distraction of a cup of coffee while having to observe Fran?ois’ reactions. Few neurotypicals understood the irrational sense of responsibility to finish a cup of coffee to the last drop—a sense that chose the most inopportune times to surface.

In the three minutes we waited for Tim to deliver the coffee as well as for Fran?ois and his lawyer to get comfortable, Phillip prepared himself mentally. I could see his facial muscles relaxing as he focused on his breathing. It was subtle, but it was there.

Then he inhaled deeply and looked at me. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I’d been ready when we’d entered the reception area. He’d been the one who’d needed to prepare himself to face a person from his past. “You cared for him.”

“I did.” Phillip pulled his shoulders back. “It was at a time when I still longed to have my own family. For a very short time I dreamed that Fran?ois could be like a son to me.”

I saw his hesitation. “How soon after he started with you did you suspect something was wrong?”

“Nine months.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I suppose it was sooner, but I only admitted it to myself after nine months.”

“Why keep him working for you so long then?”

“He’d done nothing I could accuse him of. I couldn’t find any evidence that he was involved in illegal activities.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

His smile was self-deprecating. “I was hoping he would become the man I knew he could be.”

“That’s the same thing so many woman say about their abusive husbands.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I never thought about it like that. Ours was by no means an abusive relationship. Not at all. Manipulative, yes. Fran?ois was the person who taught me the most about manipulation and deception.”

This was important information for me. It helped me build a better profile of the man we were about to interview. It also revealed just how much Phillip had been affected by the younger man’s betrayal of trust.

“Here you are.” Daniel walked into the office. “How do you want to do the interview with Fran?ois? Should I sit, stand, talk?”

“Stand.” I thought about this some more. “By the door, but relaxed. When you have a better read on the situation, I trust you will know what to do then.”

“Are you going to be doing the questioning?” he asked.

“No.” Phillip straightened his already-straight tie. “I will. I know what buttons to push. If that’s acceptable to you, Genevieve?”

“I’d prefer that.”

“Then let’s do this.” Phillip led us to the conference room, his bearing confident and relaxed.

We entered the room just as Fran?ois moved to another painting. He glanced over his shoulder and stiffened when he saw Phillip. “You.”

“Good day, Fran?ois.”

There was an immediate shift in Fran?ois’ body language at the sound of Phillip’s voice. His pupils dilated, his confident posture that bordered on arrogant as well as his features softened.

He was wearing high-quality wool trousers, a tailored shirt and designer shoes. He tugged at his sleeves in a manner similar to Phillip when he got ready to say something important.

Fran?ois waved at the paintings lining three of the four walls in the conference room. The birthmark on his hand was clearly visible. “You’ve done well for yourself.” He glanced at Daniel, then at me, some of his cunning returning. “You have all these... people working for you.”

“We are here against my advice.” The man sitting at the table put his cup in the saucer and looked at Phillip. “I’ve advised my client not to say anything.”

“Yes.” Fran?ois’ zygomaticus major muscle pulled the left corner of his mouth into a smirk. “I’m not saying a word.”

Phillip watched as he walked back to the table and sat down next to his lawyer. Then he pulled out two chairs and waited until I was seated before he sat down. His smile was genuine as he looked at Fran?ois. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just talk and you can listen.” Phillip crossed his legs, which served to emphasise his relaxed confidence. “I’m surprised that you are condescending about these experts”—he tilted his head towards me—“when you’ve been working with low-class criminals yourself.”

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