CHAPTER 7

Tuesday Morning

Keeley Fox sipped her coffee, clicking on image after image of Christian Grey. The team had been trying to establish a link between him and the women in the photograph, but with the exception of Susannah McDowell they'd drawn a blank. She'd scoured the Internet using every search parameters she could think of, but there wasn't so much as a photograph, a mention, or even a spurious piece of gossip on the Seattle Nooz website. The only woman Grey had ever been photographed or mentioned with in a social capacity was his wife. Before her, there was no one. But Fox shared Marsh's belief that the photograph suggested that this was more than a chance meeting. They were too relaxed. Keeley herself would never have been that much at ease standing next to him. He had a presence that she would describe as commanding and even at approaching forty, Christian Grey was a handsome bastard. The links between the women themselves were equally elusive. What did a top flight Lawyer, a School Teacher, a Doctor, an advertising copywriter, an artist or any of the other women have in common with each other? Only two of them had attended the same school, some had moved to the Seattle area from other parts of the country, but the team couldn't find a consistent link between them all. So Grey had to be the link, although if they were all his ex-girlfriends, then the guy obviously had a serious thing for brunettes with long hair. This cheered Keeley as she clicked through more ridiculously handsome pictures of him. The guy could sure wear a suit.

The room was quiet. The medical exam reports were now back on Faye Silvestri and it had been as they had first suspected, she had been raped. They had picked up a good deal of forensic evidence from the room, but nothing that had enabled them to link it to anyone's DNA profile. Whoever had committed this crime was a first time offender. They were currently working their way through the people in Mrs Silvestri's life and nowhere was there even the merest hint of her ever been linked to Christian Grey. Fox was heading over to Bremerton later to start the process of interviewing the other members of staff at the Elementary School that Faye taught at. Online reports from the town had already noted them as being in a state of profound shock at the death of a popular teacher.

"Got it!" said Sparshott, thumping the desk.

"Got what?" Keeley got up from her chair and walked over to her colleague.

"The link."

"Really?"

"Yep." Ryan Sparshott turned and grinned at Keeley. "Audi."

"What?" Keeley frowned.

"They all have Audi's."

She laughed. "Are you serious?" Fox pulled up a chair and sat down next to him looking at his computer screen.

"Yes. I just got the data from Licensing. Look." He scrolled back to the top. "We know that Silvestri had an Audi, but the rest of them do, too. And look at the colour."

Keeley Fox scanned the list. "You're joking me."

"Different models, different ages, but yes. All of them have a red Audi."

"And Grey?"

"I didn't ask about him."

Something occurred to Fox and she scurried back to her bank of images of Christian Grey. She scanned through them, finally picking the one she remembered. He'd attended a party at the city's main Audi dealership at some point. "I bet he does."

"Want me to ask them?" asked Ryan calling up a new email window.

"Yes please." Keeley smiled. "Just to satisfy an itch," she whispered to herself.

"What have we got?" Marsh's gruffness tore her from her daydreams and his sudden appearance startled her.

"We've got a definite link between the women," said Ryan. "It's odd, but definite."

"And…?" Marsh added when Sparshott didn't reply.

"Audi sir. All the women have red Audi's."

"Is that it?" Marsh was not impressed.

Ryan shrugged. "Well, it's a link."

Marsh sighed. "Not exactly a convincing one."

"Why not just ask them what the link is?"

"We did," said Keeley. "Or at least I did in the interviews I conducted. They said they were a book group."

"A bookgroup that came to a gathering without a single book between them," reminded Marsh.

Sparshott pushed his chair back from the desk and turned to face Fox and Marsh. "That's plausible. I go to a bar to watch sports but I don't take a football with me."

"No, but if someone reads enough to be in a bookgroup, you'd kind of expect books to be part of their lives," said Marsh. "Anything on linking them to Grey?"

Keeley shook her head. "Nothing, sir."

"At all? On the entire Internet?"

"No. The only woman he's linked to is his wife."

Marsh pursed his lips. "Do you think someone's been in and cleaned up his Internet Reputation?"

"No. There are no links missing, there are no unexplained absences. There's just Christian Grey on his own and then at some point in 2011 he starts getting photographed with the woman who shortly after became his wife."

"And you can't link her to these women?"

"To Susannah McDowell, yes. They've attended one or two society parties together. But I can't find a link to any of the others."

"And what does Grey drive, out of interest? Not that he probably drives anywhere. But is he too the owner of a red Audi?"

"I'm asking." Ryan pulled himself back to the desk and started typing the email.

"I'm heading over to see Grey again in a half hour. Get me the information before then." Marsh shook his head in disbelief. "Linked by Audi's. What the fuck?"

"Sir," Keeley approached him. "You don't suspect that Grey had anything to do with this woman's death, do you?"

"No. The details from his own security cameras have him returning and staying home long before the time of Silvestri's death. But I don't like a man who keeps things from me. I don't care if he's doing all these women behind his wife's back, I just want to know the truth. One thing's for sure, if he is, he's sure got a specific type."

Ryan laughed. "Yeah. I wonder if he has a hard time keeping their names straight. Perhaps he calls them all 'baby' to save confusion?"

"Ha! You mean like you do, after famously calling Mara 'Janice' in the throes of passion?" Keeley exulted in her colleague's discomfort. "She told everyone what you did."

"Don't I know it," he muttered.

"I'll ask Grey when I see him." Marsh went to his chair and sat down. "His secretary gave me fifteen minutes at nine forty five."

"PA," corrected Keeley. "At that level she's way more than a secretary."

Marsh glared at Fox. "Well, whatever the icy bitch who books appointments with him titles herself."

"You're in a cheery mood," she muttered.

"I heard that, Ms Fox." Marsh chose a pen from the pot on his desk. "As I said, I don't like wasting my time on fuckers who won't tell me the truth the first time around and this time I'll stay there until I get it."

"You don't want me to come with you?" Keeley was hoping for another glimpse of the magnificent Mr Grey.

Harry looked at her. "No. I don't want to be wading through your drool."

At nine forty three Harry Marsh arrived back in the antiseptic waiting area outside Grey's office. This time he didn't bother taking a seat, but watched as two uniformed men shipped out cartons of paperwork under the watchful eye of the Junior Ice Bitch. The woman was dressed in pale blue today which accentuated her coldness. The Senior Ice Bitch was not at her desk, but she came out of Grey's office with several members of staff when the meeting in there finished at nine forty four, precisely. Marsh found himself conflicted. He abhorred regimented time slots that made you feel as if you were a piece of machinery; but also, he hated how much of his own time was wasted in meetings that ran over. Perhaps he could take a leaf out of Grey's book?

He was shown into the office and it was even more sterile-looking. All but one of the pictures of his family had gone from Grey's desk. The only one that remained was his wedding photograph.

"Mr Grey, thank you for seeing me at such short notice."

"You're fortunate I have this slot, although I have a meeting in the Axiom Building at ten fifteen, so you will have to keep this brief. I hope you are not here to accuse me of murder, again?"

"No. Thank you for the security tape."

"So what can I help you with this time?"

Marsh placed an envelope on Grey's desk. "Yesterday, you told us that you only met Faye Silvestri once. Is that correct?"

Christian Grey gazed implacably at Harry Marsh. "No," he said quietly. "That is not the truth."

"I suspected as much. Why did you lie, Mr Grey?"

Grey reached out towards his wedding picture and ran his finger along the desk in front of it. "My past is a… place I don't like to return to."

"I would like to know where Faye Silvestri fits into that past."

Grey flicked a glance to him. "Where will this information go?"

"We can keep it from your wife."

Christian Grey gave a low chuckle. "That won't be necessary. She already knows the whole story. But I'd rather the rest of the world didn't."

"Fair enough. I give you my word that whatever you tell me here will only become known if it relates to the investigation." Harry Marsh sat up straighter. "I don't like being lied to, Mr Grey, so I want to give you this opportunity to tell me truthfully how you know Mrs Silvestri and in fact, how you know all the women in this photograph." Harry slid the copy of the picture out of the envelope and pushed it across the table.

Christian picked it up and looked at it, saying nothing. He took a deep breath and placed it face down on the desk. "All of the women in that photograph, including Faye Silvestri, are previous sexual partners of mine."

"Sexual partners. Not girlfriends?"

"No. I did not have that kind of relationship with them."

"How would you describe your relationship with them?"

"Contractual."

"Did money change hands?"

"Absolutely not! They're not prostitutes, Detective Marsh."

He raised a hand. "Of course. I apologise." There was a defensiveness about Grey that Harry wanted to unpick. "So, these contracts," Marsh knew full well what sort of relationships required signatures, "are any of them ongoing?"

"No. All of that was a very long time ago."

"And yet, here they are." Harry reached for the picture and placed it the right way up. "All of your previous sexual partners… in your bathroom… with you… in the dead of night," he added for emphasis. "May I ask what your wife thought about that?"

"She was angry, but not for the reasons you might think, Detective."

Marsh raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did she want to join in?"

He knew he'd stepped over a line as Christian Grey rose from his chair. "I don't believe my time is well served by answering your insulting questions." He walked towards the door and Harry reluctantly followed. Grey opened it. "I trust you have all the answers you need?" He didn't stop to find out. "Now all I ask is that you catch Mrs Silvestri's killer or I shall ask the Commissioner to re-assign the case to someone else." Of course Grey would have influence at the very top.

"I apologise for insulting your wife, Mr Grey."

"You seem to do a lot of that. Perhaps a little more thought to your questions would prevent it?"

"Maybe, but I find that it gives me an idea of the person underneath the façade, so to speak."

"Façade?" Christian closed the door. "On second thoughts, perhaps you leaving by the window would be the better option?"

"No, I'm happy to leave by the door." Harry ignored the rising ire. "Just one final question, Mr Grey. Do you know why each of the women in that picture – and I'll leave it with you - owns a red Audi?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I bought them one each and they seem to have replaced them over time with another red Audi. After all, how could I have them at my beck and call if they had to rely on public transport to get to me?" Grey finished with a cold smile and Harry knew that it was all he would get from the man.

As Marsh made his way out of Grey House he smiled to himself over the convoluted lives that people with power and the money to hide their kinky habits, lived. No wonder Grey was never photographed with any of them. Then Harry thought back to the comment about his wife before Marsh had stupidly shut him down. What reasons would Mrs Grey have for being angry and how come she wasn't part of the group? Perhaps he'd need to speak to this intriguing woman.