Damian sagged against the sink.
‘It’s all his fault.’
Concerned by the way the colour had drained from the man’s face and worried that he might collapse, Kay pulled out a chair from under the dining table and steered him towards it.
Gavin fetched a second chair for her, and after reciting the formal caution, she eyed the man before her with renewed interest.
‘Why on earth would two successful blokes like you steal ketamine hydrochloride from a veterinary practice to sell on the street?’ she said. ‘Was that your idea, or Xander’s?’
He laughed then, a bitter sound that rattled off the cupboard doors before he caught himself, the laugh turning to a sob before he shook his head and looked away.
‘Guv,’ Gavin said, and stepped towards her, holding out his phone. ‘Barnes sent this.’
Kay read the message, then turned her attention back to Damian. ‘I’m going to ask you again, where were you between the times of five and seven on Wednesday night?’
Her question was met with silence.
‘Damian, my colleagues have put the registration plate from your motorbike through our automatic number plate recognition system. It was spotted on CCTV two streets away from Xander’s flat at six-fourteen.’ Kay leaned back, unable to contain her disgust. ‘Why did you attack your brother?’
‘Because he’s an idiot. He should’ve just done what he was told. Instead, he thought he knew better. He always does.’ Damian wiped spittle from his lips after the sudden outburst, his chest heaving. ‘It’s all his fault.’
‘In what way?’
‘He wasn’t meant to keep the drugs. He sure as hell wasn’t meant to sell the fucking stuff.’
‘I can’t imagine beating the crap out of him is going to do your reputation much use, either,’ said Kay.
Damian snorted. ‘It’s all smoke and mirrors anyway, isn’t it?’
‘What is?’
‘All of it.’ He jerked his chin towards the living room. ‘All of that in there.’
‘What do you mean?’
He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. ‘I’m not the great software developer everybody thinks I am. I mean, yes – I got lucky, and the app we’ve programmed could make a lot of money, but…’
‘But, what?’
‘I’m not as successful as I look,’ he mumbled.
‘I thought your company was about to be taken over?’ said Kay, confused.
‘It is.’ Damian shrugged. ‘I farm out most of the work – all of those programmers are contractors. I just project manage it all, I guess. If it wasn’t for them, I couldn’t do this. But if I can sell the business, then no-one’s any the wiser, are they?’
‘So how are you funding all of this – the house, the software development…’
‘My mum pays for it. She’s an investor in the business, although I’m the only director.’
‘Who’s your mum?’
Damian snorted, and made inverted commas with his fingers, his voice bitter.
‘The renowned local biochemist, of course. Marion Blanchett.’
Kay growled under her breath in frustration. ‘So that’s why her name never came up on the searches.’
‘Like I said, she’s not a director. She prefers it that way.’
‘While you take the money and run,’ said Gavin.
Damian winced. ‘Well, not literally.’
‘Are you sure?’ Kay picked up a computer magazine from the table and eyed the travel itinerary that caught her eye. ‘Where were you planning on going?’
She watched as Damian Beech leaned forward and held his head in his hands.
‘I think I’d like a solicitor now, please,’ he managed.