Page 71 of The Sunken Truth
“And did you?”
He nodded. “It’s not as though I was going to split the money fifty-fifty. It was a gift for me after all,” he said cockily.
“But you gave him something?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Something felt off, but without time to ponder it, Flynn couldn’t think of any more questions.
“Can I go now?” Kurt asked. “If I hurry, I can still make the ferry.”
“I don’t think you’re going to make the ferry,” Flynn said, leaning back in his seat. “Because I don’t think you’re being straight with me.”
Kurt’s eyes flashed with anger. “Unless you’re going to charge me, you can’t keep me here. I know my rights.”
“You may want to brush up on them,” Flynn said, annoyed by the arrogance. “I have every right to keep you here until I’m satisfied you weren’t involved in the incident with Ryan Simmons.”
Kurt laughed, but there was a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes. “That’s not right, is it?” He turned to look at the sergeant. “You can’t just keep me here.”
Before the sergeant could answer, Flynn stood. He needed to be decisive or he’d lose face in front of the superintendent. Hopefully the sergeant would back him up.
“Is there a cell free?” Flynn asked, eyes on the sergeant as he asked the redundant question. The cells were almost always empty.
Sergeant Proctor remained expressionless. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded. “Take your pick.”
“Come with me,” Flynn said to a dumbstruck Kurt.
“You can’t be serious?”
“I’m very serious.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” he complained as he stood.
“Then you probably won’t need to stay long.” He opened the door to the back, and let Kurt pass him before he glanced at the Sergeant.
“Come into my office after you’ve dealt with him,” he said, in a tone that made Flynn question whether he’d made a huge mistake in detaining Kurt.
Ten minutes later, Flynn walked into Sergeant Proctor’s office. He ended his conversation with the superintendent at the sight of Flynn.
“You realise youcan’tkeep him locked up until you figure out who cut Ryan’s hose?” the sergeant said.
Ignoring the superintendent’s steely gaze, Flynn took a seat. “I can if I can figure it out in the next couple of hours.”
“That seems overly optimistic,” the superintendent said, before turning his attention to the sergeant. “I told you it’d be best to hand this over to the experts. Get a couple of detectives over here and you’ll have it sorted out in no time.”
The sergeant’s demeanour remained relaxed, but Flynn caught the irritation in the twitch of his cheek. “Since it’s not usually possible for us to access specialists, we get pretty good at figuring things out for ourselves. Policing is different over here. We have to be versatile. PC Grainger has proven to be good at that.”
“It doesn’t seem like it so far.” The superintendent narrowed his eyes. “Was there a reason you chose to interviewthe suspect out in the reception area? Anyone could have walked in.”
“We don’t get many people walking in,” Flynn said. “I thought there was more chance of him letting his guard down out there.”
“That plan didn’t work too well.”
Flynn’s jaw was so tense it was painful and he forced himself not to respond. The superintendent was looking for faults and Flynn losing his cool would give him exactly what he wanted.
“What do you want to do?” the sergeant asked.
“I’m not sure.” Flynn hung his head, trying to focus enough to get his thoughts straight. “I should probably speak to Benji.”
