“Didn’t you think it strange that if his legal problems were behind him, he would want you to buy an Irish seaside villa for him in your name?”
“He said he wanted to move on with his life and start over in Ireland without drawing any attention to himself.”
“How did George arrange for you to meet him in Paris?”
“He sent a letter to me at work asking for my assistance.”
“Do you have that letter?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you call the police when the letter arrived?”
“I saw no reason to doubt him. He wrote that he was no longer in trouble with the law and could prove it to my satisfaction, if I was willing to help.”
Sara rose, walked to Paquette, and looked down at her. “How could he have possibly known when you would be traveling to Ireland?”
“I didn’t think to ask him that.”
Sara stayed silent for a moment, letting the tension build. “Explain to me why George would buy the villa under your name and then hire a solicitor to prepare a conveyance to transfer the deed to him by the end of the year.”
For the first time during the interrogation Paquette’s composure wavered. Her mouth tightened and she gave Sara a stormy look. “If he’s still a criminal, why don’t you just go arrest him and ask him these questions? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Sara walked behind Paquette’s chair and looked at her in the one-way mirror. “I wonder what a polygraph would tell me.”
“Would you not stand behind me, please,” Paquette said.
Sara stayed put. “You could avoid further difficulties by telling me now how much George promised to give you if you went along with his scheme.”
Paquette craned her neck to look at Sara. “It’s not a scheme. I simply agreed to help out a friend.”
“I’m confused, Josephine. If this was all on the up and up, why would you pose as George’s lover when the two of you met with the architect and builder?”
Paquette looked away. “I did no such thing. They must have formed a mistaken impression about our relationship.”
Sara patted Paquette gently on the shoulder. “That could well be the case. People make faulty assumptions about others all the time.”
“Which is exactly what you’re doing with me,” Paquette said pointedly as she looked at her wristwatch. “I really must go.”
“Not yet.” Sara moved to the table, sat on it, and smiled down at Paquette. “I’m still a bit confused.”
“About what?”
“Your secret meeting with George on his yacht at the Dun Laoghaire Marina.”
“There wasn’t anything secret about it.”
“Then why was it the one and only time since you’ve been in Dublin that you didn’t use your car and driver?”
Paquette nodded and paused an extra beat. “I needed some time by myself without having to listen to my driver’s incessant chatter.”
Sara reached for the folder and thumbed through it. “Your driver, Martin Mullaney, told us that you informed him early in the day you wouldn’t be needing him that evening. It doesn’t appear that your need to take a break from a chatty driver was all that spontaneous.”
“Believe what you like. I’m telling you the truth.”
Sara sighed and plucked a sheet of paper from the folder. “Josephine, everything we’ve learned points to the fact that George is paying you to be his intermediary.”
“I’ve been helping out because he’s been spending most of his time cruising on his yacht.”
“We know that your magazine is about to be sold,” Sara said as she scanned the paper, “and your chances of staying on as the editor are slim to none. We know that you’ve been actively job hunting for the past three months and have had no offers. We also know you are strapped for cash and carrying a lot of debt.”
Sara returned the paper to the folder. “The point is, no matter how often you tell this story, we can show that you have colluded with a known fugitive and that money was your motive. You can be charged as an accessory.”
“I have nothing more to say.”
“What do you think could happen to a person who did something like this?”
Paquette put her hands on the table and clasped them tightly together.
“People make mistakes,” Sara continued as she returned to her chair. “I understand that. Now is your chance to set things right. I’ll listen to anything you want to say.”
“Where would that get me?” Paquette asked.
“It could be very advantageous to you. Once we have George in custody, we’ll learn the truth about your involvement and any chance you have to extract yourself from this situation will be gone.”
Paquette picked some imaginary lint from her pleated silk Louis Vuitton blouse and shook her head. “I feel so stupid.”
“Don’t, Josephine.” Sara leaned forward and smiled sympathetically. Although Paquette probably didn’t know it, she’d just admitted guilt. “George Spalding has spent a lifetime using people. He’s a master at it. You are simply one of his victims.”
Paquette smiled weakly in return.
“Why don’t you tell me everything,” Sara said.
“If I do, will I be arrested?”
“Not if you give a full and truthful account,” Sara replied, sidestepping the fact that the half a million euros Paquette expected to receive at the end of the year had just evaporated.
Paquette took a deep breath and started talking. When she finished, Sara had all the particulars of the scheme, but most important she now knew that Spalding would be at the villa tomorrow afternoon to have one final look at his new home before starting his qualifying cruise for his ocean yachtmaster certificate.
She cautioned Paquette to cooperate fully with the Garda in all possible ways, made her surrender her passport, and turned her over to the detective waiting outside the door.
Within a minute Fitzmaurice stepped into the room with a big smile spread across his face. “Well done,” he said. “You got her to lie to you right from the outset. It’s all been recorded on digital video and sent to the server. I made a diskette copy.”
He tucked it into the chest pocket of his suit coat. “A detective will take her written statement. We’ll keep a close watch on her from now until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Are you smiling because you think I should have questioned her sooner rather than later?” Sara asked.
Fitzmaurice shook his head. “Not at all. She never would have broken unless you had the facts at your disposal.”
“Then why the big grin?” Sara asked.
Fitzmaurice laughed. “Because I had no idea you were the product of an Irish diplomat’s marriage to a Norwegian shipping heiress, and a Garda detective authorized to grant foreign citizens immunity from prosecution.”
Sara grinned and handed Fitzmaurice the passport. “I said nothing about a shipping heiress. You’re a terrible embellisher, Mr. Fitzmaurice. She almost had me there. Did you really want to arrest her?”
“No, but now I’m more convinced than ever that you’re a far cry from an ordinary lieutenant colonel.”
“You just won’t quit, will you?”
Fitzmaurice shook his head. “Is it time for us to start uncovering and freezing Mr. Spalding’s assets?”
“Is that possible?” Sara asked.
“Indeed so,” Fitzmaurice replied. “His bank in Galway serves only private clients, and it is justifiably concerned that it not be a party to any illicit dealing. The rumours of that may not be good for business, and a scandal in the courts might frighten off prospective clients. I’ve asked for a writ from the court under the Proceeds of Crime Act. It should be signed shortly and then we can be on our way to Galway. We’ll travel by helicopter.”
On the flight to Galway, Fitzmaurice gave Sara a short history of the Garda Criminal Assets Bureau. The bureau had been established in 1996, after drug dealers murdered Veronica Guerin, an investigative reporter who’d exposed the extent of drug trafficking in Dublin and the wealth of the drug lords who controlled it. The public outcry that resulted from her death had led to the creation of the bureau, which was given the authority to identify, freeze, or confiscate assets and other wealth derived directly or indirectly from criminal activity.