“Take the simple example of that madman Reggie Cardiman at Ezile Bay,” DeSouza said with a backward flap of the hand. “He hated Smith-Aidoo’s guts. He was the one person who would suffer from some of the development plans that Malgam Oil had in mind, and Charles was driving those plans. Wouldn’t you want to get rid of the man if you were Cardiman? And what about the rumor that Fiona was having an affair? Have you followed that lead?”
Dawson sat up straight. “An affair with whom?”
“You’re investigating this case, and you don’t know this?” DeSouza said in disbelief. “I have no clue with whom she was supposed to be having an affair, Inspector. That’s for you to find out, for goodness’ sake. And even if I knew, I wouldn’t want to sully the person’s name.”
“Well, you’ve at least partially sullied Cardiman,” Dawson pointed out dryly. “You might as well keep going.”
Too late, he realized that the last comment wouldn’t go down well.
“Are you quite finished?” DeSouza said icily. “I have work to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Dawson said, standing up. “Thank you very much for your help. Apologies for taking up your time.”
DeSouza grunted and didn’t get up. At the door, Dawson turned. “One other question, sir. Did you hate Fiona Smith-Aidoo?”
He gave Dawson a cold stare. “After all that we have said, you have the utter gall to ask me such a thing? I will not dignify it with a response. Please be sure to shut the door behind you.”
Nice man, Dawson thought sardonically as he left. Not a pleasant interview at all. Nevertheless, what DeSouza had had to say was interesting. First, the chief executive had pointedly drawn attention to Cardiman’s animosity toward Charles, which Dawson had already realized, and then he had remarked upon a rumor that Fiona had been having an affair, which Dawson was hearing for the first time. Spurned lovers are no joke, he reflected. Adultery was fertile ground for a vicious murder in any number of directions.
Dawson wondered about DeSouza’s motive in planting these “suspicions,” and it raised at least a soft alert in his mind.
Baah had been chatting with the security guard as Dawson approached.
“Where now, sir?” Baah asked as they got back into the car.
“It’s time for lunch. Can we go somewhere to chop?”
“I know a good place at Market Circle.”
“Good. Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
