City of Sins. Daniel Blake

Mississippi one way, Lake Pontchartrain the other, and a patchwork of roofs and roads in between.

      Varden came round from the far side of his desk. Patrese was struck by how unimposing he was; lost in the vastness of his office rather than having the charisma to fill it. You wouldn’t have given him a second glance in the street; a man in his sixties, average height, well turned out without being especially so, and with a look of perpetually mild surprise, as though he found the world and its people harder to read than a balance sheet.

      ‘Agent Patrese. Detective Fawcett. Good of you to come.’ If Varden had been wearing a hat, Patrese thought, he’d have tipped it.

      ‘I’m the lead on this case, sir,’ Selma said. Polite but firm.

      ‘Are you?’ Equally courteous, but without the slightest hint of apology. Elderly white men clearly didn’t say sorry to young black women in Louisiana, Patrese thought, even in this day and age.

      There were low chairs round a coffee table next to one of the windows. As Patrese sat down, he glanced out at the Mississippi, stretching lazy wide as barges and ferries churned it gray and brown.

      ‘Do I need a lawyer?’ Varden said.

      ‘We’re just here to ask you some questions about Cindy, sir,’ replied Selma.

      ‘Do you always bring the Bureau with you on homicide cases?’

      ‘We do when the victim worked closely with a man like yourself.’

      Varden’s eyes flashed. ‘What does that mean, young lady?’

      ‘It means you’re an important citizen, sir, and we want to assure you that the New Orleans law enforcement community is doing everything it can – doing everything we can – to bring Miss Rojciewicz’ killer to justice.’

      Spoken like a true pro, Patrese thought.

      ‘In that case, Detective, fire away.’

      ‘How long had Miss Rojciewicz worked for you?’

      ‘Four years, just about.’

      ‘And how would you describe her as an employee?’

      ‘First class. As are all my staff. I don’t employ anybody who’s anything other. Not for very long, at any rate.’

      ‘Her father is a friend of yours, is that right?’

      ‘That’s right. I’ve – I’d – known Cindy for a long while, so I knew she’d be up to the responsibilities I entrusted her with.’

      ‘And what were those responsibilities?’

      ‘She ran my life.’

      ‘What do you mean by that?’

      ‘I mean exactly what I said. My meetings, organized. Any documents I needed, ready. Transport, in place. Bills, paid.’

      ‘Bills? Work bills, or home bills?’

      ‘Both.’

      ‘She looked after your personal arrangements as well as your professional ones?’

      ‘To me, there’s no difference. My life is my work; my work is my life. Let me tell you something, Detective. Cindy’s job, it’s not one most people could do. You know why? Because she sacrificed her life to the dictates of mine. I went somewhere, she came too. I needed something at three in the morning, she got it for me. I changed my plans at a moment’s notice, she had to do so as well.’

      ‘Did she ever complain?’

      ‘Never. Why should she? How many people of her age have stayed the places she has, met the people she has?’

      ‘You say you involved her in every part of your life. Was the reverse true?’

      ‘How do you mean?’

      ‘How much did you know about her life?’

      ‘As much as anyone knows about their staff. Things you find out over time.’

      ‘Did she ever talk to you about her social life?’

      ‘Sometimes. Especially if my demands had dragged her away from a party.’

      ‘Love life?’

      ‘Excuse me?’

      ‘Did she ever talk to you about her love life? Boyfriends?’

      ‘Good heavens, no.’

      ‘Did you ever sleep with her?’

      Varden wasn’t offended, Patrese saw; if anything, he was flattered. ‘I refer you to the answer I gave to your previous question, Detective. Good heavens, no.’

      ‘She was very attractive.’

      ‘She was indeed.’

      ‘And you weren’t tempted? Rich, powerful man; young, beautiful secretary. It would hardly have been the first time.’

      ‘You asked me, I told you.’

      ‘Are you upset? That she’s been killed?’

      ‘What an imbecilic question. Of course I’m upset. I liked her very much.’

      ‘When did you last see her?’

      ‘Tuesday evening, about eight o’clock. We’d been out of town that day …’

      ‘Whereabouts?’

      ‘Denton, Texas.’

      ‘Business?’

      ‘I’ve found little reason to visit Denton for recreation, put it that way.’

      ‘And you last saw her where?’

      ‘The airport.’

      ‘Louis Armstrong?’

      ‘That’s correct. We landed back there around seven forty-five. What with deplaning and so on, it was around eight before we went our separate ways. Yes: we’d left at eight that morning, and I remember thinking we’d been gone for twelve hours on the dot.’

      ‘What did you think when she didn’t turn up for work yesterday?’

      ‘I didn’t think anything. I knew she was sick. She’d rung in to tell me.’

      ‘What time was this?’

      ‘Just after eight, I think.’

      ‘Were you angry?’

      ‘No. Why should I have been?’

      ‘You said you needed her on call round the clock. She’s not there for a whole day, that could mess up your plans.’

      ‘I have other staff, Detective, who are also very good. We can do without anyone for a day. Even me.’

      ‘And now?’

      ‘Now what?’

      ‘Have you replaced her?’

      ‘Her responsibilities are being covered by her colleagues. I haven’t yet considered a permanent replacement, no.’

      ‘Did you monitor her communications?’

      ‘Excuse me?’

      ‘Record phone calls, keep copies of e-mails; that kind of thing.’

      ‘All phone calls into and out of this building are recorded as a matter of course. All e-mails written on Varden computers are company property.’

      ‘Did you ever find anything which led you to question her loyalty?’

      ‘Never.’

      ‘She must have been privy to some sensitive information.’

      ‘Much more than “some”, I can assure you.’

      ‘Did she ever report approaches from other organizations?