“Could we just stick to the point, Ms. Flannery?” Sweeney snapped. “We’ve got a double murder on our hands in an establishment that you fully admit caters to dark, twisted tastes.”

“Dark, twisted tastes!” Claudia slammed her hands on the table, her palms spread, as though bracing for an earthquake. “That must be the most ignorant thing I’ve heard in a long, long time.”

“I don’t know if it’s ignorant but it’s certainly politically incorrect.” Amanda nudged Sweeney, waggled a finger in her face. “People can drink each other’s blood if they want to. No one’s forcing you to go watch.”

“You forced me to go watch last night,” Sweeney hissed, blocking the microphone beside her. “We could have been walking in on anything.”

“We did walk in on anything.” Amanda smiled. “Anything and everything!”

Sweeney unblocked the microphone. “Claudia Flannery, did you arrange for someone to murder two young people in your bar as a part of the sexual or … or experiential services you provide?”

“I did not.”

“Do you have knowledge of why these young people were murdered in your establishment that you’re keeping from police?”

“No, I do not.”

“Did you arrange this experience, and then have the person who paid you for it make the whole thing look like a robbery? Did you have them throw the bar’s takings up onto the roof for you to retrieve later? Did you try to tamper with evidence of the crime by releasing the bar’s sprinkler system and destroying the crime scene?”

“No, I did not.” Claudia Flannery hung an arm draped in glittering fabric over the back of her chair. “And now that I’ve told you that I didn’t, you need to put the whole matter to rest, Detective Inspector Sweeney. Because I guarantee you, those are the only answers you’re going to get, and banging your head against the issue for much longer is only going to diminish your obviously vibrant soul.”

“What are you talking about?” Sweeney looked to Amanda again. “Ms. Flannery, you’re facing serious charges here. You need to just—”

There was a tapping on the glass panel in the door to the interrogation room. Amanda jolted in her seat as though stung. It was Chief Clark, curling a finger, beckoning Pip into the hall.

As the door closed behind Sweeney, the tall, immaculately dressed man began to speak. His tone was one of reverence. Quiet, and calm.

“Thank Ms. Flannery for her time and send her out,” he said. “Call her a cab and give her a cab voucher.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Pack it up, and ship her out.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve just had a call from the premier’s office, that’s why,” he said. The two officers stared at each other. Claudia’s words came back to Sweeney in a sickening rush.

A very exclusive meeting of very particular people …