18

Rosie

‘ROSIE, I THINK YOU NEED TO GET DOWN HERE IMMEDIATELY.’ Lorraine on reception at CRUSH was whispering with a furious intensity down the line. ‘Seriously. Now.’

‘Really? Why? Oh my God, is the Muffin Man here again?’ Rosie was already hovering out of her seat, happy to run away from the morning’s work to find the Muffin Man and his most excellent apple and cinnamon offerings.

‘No. Way more trouble than him. Two uniformed guards are here. They asked for you, but Serious happened to be passing and has started talking to them.’

‘What the hell?’ Rosie felt like someone had shoulder-slammed into her, knocking her down. ‘Why do they want me? Oh God, is someone dead, oh Jesus?’ She grabbed the edge of her desk, the wind sucked out of her.

‘No,’ Lorraine said immediately. ‘I don’t think it’s anything like that, because they’ve kept their hats on. Wouldn’t they remove them if the news was bad? They seemed more suspicious than anything.’

‘Suspicious of what? Me?’

Rosie heard the phone drop and started to half walk, half run towards reception. Catching a fleeting thought that maybe someone had called a strip-a-gram and there’d be a half-naked muscled cop waving hand cuffs at her from the lobby. She’d act surprised and be all, ‘You guys, it’s not even my birthday. How did you know I love a near-naked law enforcer?’

There they were. Two navy uniformed guards, not particularly looking like they’d take tips in their g-strings, were standing with their backs to the office in deep conversation with Serious Steve. Lorraine’s eyes had popped out of her head and she shook her hair wildly in the direction of the guards as if Rosie couldn’t see them for herself, the only people standing in reception. Serious looked up and caught her eye, Rosie heard him speak.

‘You can ask her yourself, guards. Let’s just move into a meeting room, shall we?’ With surprising dexterity, Serious managed to manoeuvre the guards into a nearby room, sit them down and quickly scurry out, shutting the door behind him. ‘Lorraine, can you make sure no one goes in there? Rosie, a word.’ He gestured to the side of the reception, a white leather couch that was too low to sit on, so purely existed for hovering or tripping over, and a glass coffee table. He spoke in a hushed tone. ‘They want to talk to you.’

‘About what?’ Rosie forgot to whisper, her hands automatically went to her waist in a stance of defiance.

‘Simon Fitzpatrick.’

‘What? Seriously? Simon? What about Simon? Is he dead?’ Rosie didn’t want to say I told you so but …

‘No, it’s nothing like that … Do you have a lawyer, Rosie?’ Serious had narrowed his eyes.

‘No. Why would I need a lawyer?’ Rosie felt appalled at the very suggestion. A lawyer might mean that she’d done something wrong. She was a law-abiding citizen. She broke out in a cold sweat if she thought she forgot to fully weigh her fruit and veg on the self-checkout at the supermarket. Save underage drinking on two occasions before she turned eighteen—one glass of champagne at a wedding, and the other a toe-curling vodka, rum and cider mixture at Joe Simpson’s seventeenth birthday party—she had never veered into anything even remotely illegal. The mere thought of it made her skin crawl with guilt; she’d never sleep again, she’d be hopping every time the doorbell went.

‘They look like they mean business—they’re from the internet fraud squad.’ Serious Steve spoke slowly, which was probably wise given the information overload that was now cramming Rosie’s brain.

She gulped hard, momentarily speechless.

‘They want to ask you some questions about Simon.’

Rosie focused on the shine on his bald head to try to stop the room from spinning.

‘I can see if I can get someone down here from the fifth floor, from legal, if you want?’

Rosie shook her head, surprised she managed to speak in spite of the sawdust in her mouth. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’ She wondered how this could be about Simon, it must be about something else, but what? Every possible variation of every possible crime raced through her mind; she always wrote down what she took from the stationery cupboard, especially the Sharpies, unlike many of her colleagues who seemed to think it was a free-for-all. She paid her TV licence bill, a ridiculous, money-swindling scam by the way, but she believed firmly in the stern voiced-adverts that shouted, You will be prosecuted! She hand-on-heart had never downloaded an illegal movie, she was far too scared of bugs and who knows what level of porn would appear on her laptop if she just clicked Okay. She never drove over the speed limit, her credit card was paid off like clockwork. No, Rosie was sure she was very close to being a model citizen.

Steve nodded. ‘Okay, look, legal will just say to you what I’m going to say to you. You don’t have to answer any of their questions, it doesn’t make you look guilty. Just say I’d rather not answer that. And don’t, don’t dig a hole for yourself. Do you understand?’

Rosie felt her head involuntarily nod.

‘You’d better go in.’ He gently pushed her lower back and guided her to the meeting room. ‘Guards, this is Rosie O’Shea. Can I get anyone a cup of tea or coffee?’

The two guards pushed back from the circular glass table and stood up in unison, both in navy v-necked jumpers with blue-collared shirts peeping through. They had removed their hats, one older woman with greying temples, one younger man. Both simultaneously stretched their arms across the table to shake her hand. The younger one pulled back, and Rosie found herself offering a limp wrist to the older one. She sat down then, moving like gravity had been pulled away from her. She found she was wearing her shoulders as earrings, took a deep breath and tried to remember some Instagram quote about not letting troubles into your head. Although Rosie was pretty sure that that particular quote was about getting stressed in the supermarket and didn’t quite cover being face-to-face with guards.

‘Hi.’ She exhaled.

‘A tea would be great, thanks,’ the older guard said to Steve. ‘Tea all round, yes? She nodded for the room, making the decision for all of them. Rosie watched as her eyes quickly flashed to the door, waiting for her boss to exit. Which he dutifully did with a worried expression on his face.

‘Hi,’ the younger guard smiled gently, inching slightly closer to the table. He had red hair combed neatly to one side at the front and standing up in tufts like a loose hay bale at the back.

‘Rosie O’Shea, thank you so much for talking to us. We appreciate you taking the time.’ The older guard, a fit-looking woman in her late forties, short hair and a ruddy complexion, took the lead. ‘I’m Garda Shauna Lonnergan, and this is Garda Aidan Lalor.’

Focus, Rosie, remember the Instagram quotes, something about life, being in the moment, these are all just foothills and we need to climb the mountain, or something. Try and stay calm.

‘We’re from the internet fraud squad. We understand you’re a director of DeLuvGuru, the online dating app.’

Rosie nodded her head in agreement.

‘We’d like to ask you some questions about it.’

‘Am I under arrest or something? Like, what do you want to question me about? I haven’t done anything.’ Her eyes darted from one guard to another. ‘Have I? Why would you possibly want to talk to me about anything? Am I in trouble, seriously? Am I?’ Rosie babbled instantly forgetting Serious Steve’s advice about remaining silent. The older guard, Lonnergan (was that her name?) opened her mouth to speak, but Rosie didn’t give her a chance.

‘And, like, how do you even know I’m here? How do you even know my name? And how could this be about Simon or DeLuvGuru, it’s only been live for what like ten days, sure that’s nothing?’ She paused took a deep breath and continued, ‘I just don’t know what you want from me? It’s weird isn’t it? A little bit?’

Aidan Lalor was taking notes on a lined A4 foolscap notebook.

‘You’re writing? What are you writing? I haven’t said anything.’ Rosie fired over at him accusingly.

‘Oh, I know, it’s just the date, I just wrote the date, here look, on the top of the page.’ He started to slide his notes across the table, until the older guard’s hand intercepted the page and pushed it back towards him, frowning and tutting at Aidan Lalor.

‘Okay, Rosie, I understand that this is unusual, and we may be causing you some upset by being here, but I assure you we just have some questions and hopefully that’s the last you’ll hear of us.’ The older guard decided to take hold of the situation.

‘Well, I’ve seen Orange is the New Black, and I’ve no interest in a boiler suit. I know they’re all the rage and I’ve tried adding a headband, retro style, but my hips just can’t carry it off. So, I can’t go to prison, okay?’ Remembering Serious Steve’s words, she asked, ‘Do I have to answer you? Like, can I plead the fifth?’

‘That’s in America where you do that, not Ireland. And it’s mainly in films.’ The older guard wasn’t smiling. ‘You’re not under investigation and you are not obliged to answer any of these questions, but we would very much like your assistance.’

‘Oh, okay. Right, that seems fine, I guess.’ She nodded and sat up a little straighter, absentmindedly flicking her dark hair off her shoulder and pulling down her blue shirt dress. Rosie could feel the sweat pooling under her arms; this dress was a demon for not hiding sweat patches. Of all the days to wear it.

‘DeLuvGuru was set up by yourself and Simon Fitzpatrick?’ The older guard had opened up a manila folder with a number of printed pages inside. She seemed to be reading through them as she spoke. ‘You are a ten per cent shareholder, is that correct?’

‘Yes.’ Rosie smiled weakly.

‘When did you first meet Simon?’ The older guard was not smiling.

‘Around three months ago, we met in Hogans.’ Not too tricky, Rosie thought.

‘Know it well,’ the younger guard piped in cheerfully and was quickly shut down with a withering look by Lonnergan, who Rosie was establishing as the boss.

‘That’s a very quick timeline, to be working together, and have an app live, all in the space of three months, isn’t it?’

‘Well, when you know, you know, don’t you? Simon had all the back end already done from a previous app he’d worked on, so it was really just a matter of doing up new interfaces. If you’re wanting technical answers to stuff, you’d be better off speaking to him.’

Serious Steve appeared at the door carrying a noisily clinking tea tray with him. He wobbled to the table and slid the tray down, his ears cocked to catch anything.

‘Thank you,’ they all muttered and Serious took it as his key to exit, throwing earnest looks at Rosie as he walked backwards to the door.

‘So, what has been your role in DeLuvGuru?’

‘I suppose you’d say anything that’s not technical. I wrote the copy for the site and I’m doing the marketing, which is pretty much just some socials and contacting influencers. Anything we can get for free really …’ Rosie paused and wondered why they were listening so intently to her. Was she saying something wrong? ‘I mean this is my real job here at CRUSH, the app is just kind of fun, or you could call it a hobby that takes up way too much of my time.’ She attempted a half smile. ‘I work here about sixty hours a week and spend maybe twenty on the app. Do you need to know that kind of stuff?’

The paperwork was spilling out of the manila folder, the older guard was flicking through some pages, looking for something. She found it, turned and slid a page towards Rosie. ‘Do you recognise this?’

She nodded. ‘That’s the company registration form, they put it in both our names. Yeah?’ She looked up for approval, remembering how very grown up and excited she felt signing that form.

‘And this?’ A photo of Simon came across the table. ‘Who is this?’

‘That’s Simon. Why do you have his picture?’ It was a grainy picture of Simon getting out of a car, a blue Ford, in some car park. ‘Has something happened to Simon?’

‘Do you know where Simon is right now?’

‘He went to London about ten days ago, to meet with the developer.’ Rosie’s voice hung in the air, embarrassed. She didn’t want to go into details especially not with guards. Did she have to, she wondered? Like where would she start, Well, guard, we just had sex and he was being an asshole. She wondered if Garda Aidan Lalor would scribble it down. God, the mortification of it all.

‘Where exactly in London?’

‘I don’t know. He just said London. I never asked.’

‘What’s the nature of your relationship?’

‘Um … he’s my boyfriend.’ Or maybe he’s not, maybe she had been ghosted.

‘Have you been in touch?’

‘Well, no, actually. I haven’t heard from him. He’s in a snot, I think. We’d had a bit of a fight.’

‘So, you haven’t heard from him in approximately ten days?’ Lonnergan asked deadpan. This was more of an emotional grilling than lunch with Catriona.

‘Why are you asking me about Simon?’ Rosie was beginning to wonder if the guard wasn’t particularly bright.

There was a long pause, as if she were considering whether or not to tell her something, then she said, ‘The man you know as Simon Fitzpatrick has a number of aliases. He’s also known as Paul Wetherby, Simon Fitzgerald, Johnny Lukeman. He is wanted for questioning by police in four countries in relation to identity theft.’

‘Um … what?’ Rosie heard the words spin around the room, the different names, the wanted in four countries. She heard it all. ‘What?’

The guard didn’t answer her. Instead, she pushed across a number of pages, all with Simon’s picture on them but with different names: a driving licence, a passport, a mug shot.

Rosie grabbed hold of the edge of the table to steady herself. ‘Oh my God.’ The words started spilling out of her on a loop: ‘Oh my God.’ A stream of white noise filled her ears. ‘Oh my God.’ She wrapped her arms around her waist and started rocking back and forth. ‘This isn’t a joke, is it? Don’t answer that.’

It was all there—clear evidence piled up in front of her, which a guard had handed to her.

Garda Aidan Lalor nodded in agreement, looking somewhat downcast.

‘Who is he, Jason Bourne? Like, who the hell has two passports?’ She picked up the different pieces of paper and stared at them. ‘This is bad, isn’t it?’

‘It is serious, yes. We’ve been chasing him for a while.’

‘Why didn’t you get here sooner? Like last week?’ Rosie tut-tutted at them, deadly serious about their clear incompetence. She took a deep breath and said, ‘So, what does this mean? I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with this? I am Rosie O’Shea, there are no other passports.’ Rosie folded her arms across her chest in disgust. ‘Because I’ll have you know that I would never, ever, ever get involved in anything dodgy. I had no idea he was a spy or whatever the hell he is. What is he?’

‘Simon, or Johnny, or whatever you want to call him, runs internet scams. He has executed similar scams previously with unsuspecting female victims.’ The older guard looked to be choosing her words carefully.

Rosie suddenly felt self-righteous here. ‘I’m not a victim. He didn’t do anything to me.’

‘Rosie, if you’re not a victim, you’re involved. You own ten per cent of DeLuvGuru.’ There wasn’t a flicker of emotion on her face.

‘Hang on a minute, that’s a legitimate company. I …’

‘Rosie did you ever give Simon any money?’

She shook her head. Lying. She was lying to the police. The shame.

‘Any large gifts?’

‘No. Nothing. What do you take me for?’ She could hear the outrage in her voice.

‘Anyway, he has money. From the divorce, he’s an entrepreneur, his apartment?’

‘The apartment at St Stephen’s Green?’

She nodded.

‘It’s an Airbnb. He only paid for two weeks and there’s a dispute.’

That really hit a nerve with Rosie. ‘It wasn’t his. An Airbnb?’

The guard took a long breath and said, ‘Simon Fitzpatrick attaches himself to a female—young, probably mid-twenties with some digital expertise—and lets them know he’s about to start an app and asks if they are interested in getting involved. Some women have given him large amounts of money to get it off the ground, others like yourself and DeLuvGuru have been a gateway for his secondary business, which is in data theft. He has been on our radar for a while. He started with online romance scams and has progressed. He has set up other dating sites in the past, along with a weight loss app, a travel company—there’s a long list.’ She gestured to a sheet of paper.

‘The app? It’s not real?’ Suddenly Rosie was blinking back tears. It struck her this might be the thing that would upset her the most, that DeLuvGuru the magic matchmaking app might not be the real deal.

‘Well, it’s real in the sense that people are handing over an awful lot of their data, which was Simon’s goal.’

‘No, not that. The magic algorithm that brought people together to fall in love?’ Rosie felt a terrible weight hit her chest.

‘The app is a tool to get people’s personal information, which he then sells on the black market. There’s no magic algorithm. It’s written in very simple code, any matching is random selection.’

Rosie’s head collapsed into her hands. Her fingers dug into the roof of her skull. ‘I can’t believe it’s not real. I never understood the technical stuff, but I believed him about it. I really thought that we were going to make people fall in love.’ She took a deep breath, and then looked up, eyeballing the two guards. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I’m devastated.’ She took a long look around the room. ‘I knew there was a problem when Catriona’s date didn’t go well, but now you’re here, and you’re saying it doesn’t work, that it never worked. That’s hard to hear.’

‘I understand.’

‘I don’t know if you do. I really believed in it. I was revolutionising dating, like Steve Jobs but for dating, and now you’re telling me I wasn’t doing anything like that, I was actually involved in data fraud. Like BOOM! Seriously, my head just exploded.’ Rosie held her hands up in the air and waved them around. ‘I’m devastated, genuinely devastated.’

The younger guard hastily started pushing a cup of tea over to her. ‘Ah God, here, have some biscuits, too. It’s not your fault.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘but maybe it is. I should have been more aware of what was going on. I just accepted everything. I didn’t ask enough questions, did I? I was just so excited.’

‘You were dealing with a skilled manipulator. He has done this many, many times before.’

Rosie appreciated the kind words, but they didn’t really go far enough. ‘What happens now? What about all those people who have signed on? People have put their trust in me?’ Her hand was clawing her neck.

‘You’ll need to close down the app, refund everyone. Aidan can help you with the logistics.’

Aidan nodded enthusiastically, but still managed to keep a hangdog look on his face, as if he truly understood Rosie’s situation.

‘Really? Just like that?’ Rosie heard the disbelief in her voice.

‘DeLuvGuru is not offering a matchmaking service, it’s mining for data. It’s operating illegally and under false pretences. Now that you have this information, you would be in serious trouble if you did not take action based on our advice.’ The older guard sounded stern now.

‘But they haven’t found love,’ Rosie pleaded, picturing Catriona. ‘What am I going to do about that?’

‘I can’t help you with that, I’m afraid.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you could. God, I’ve made such a fool of myself, haven’t I?’ Rosie tapped her fingers on the table. ‘Don’t answer that. I was a YouTube hit, you know?’ She sighed heavily, her shoulders hanging in defeat. ‘So, what happens now? I’m not in trouble, am I? It’s just Simon or whatever his name is?’ What was his name? What had just happened? Had she been a victim of a scam? Was she in trouble?

‘We’d like you to come down to the station with us for further questioning. You’re not under arrest; however, the fact that you’re a ten per cent shareholder of a company stealing data means we have further questions in order to understand exactly what your involvement is. We hope to avoid an arrest. We will ask that you fully cooperate with us and do not leave the country during the course of our investigation.’

Rosie’s blood ran cold. She swallowed hard, nodded and blinked back tears. Was she going to jail?