‘So, why …?’
‘I am here on a work visit. I am a police detective in Paris, I recently change my job and work on prostitution, drugs, that kind of thing.’
‘This is a set-up?’
Poppy half-rose and looked wildly around her, expecting uniformed officers with handcuffs to emerge from all corners of the room.
Bruno put his hand on her forearm, drawing her back down.
‘Calm,’ he said. ‘You are not in trouble. Not at all. Don’t worry.’
Poppy sat back down, but she couldn’t shake a strange sensation of being under arrest and bound to answer all interrogations.
‘It’s legal. I pay tax,’ she said.
‘OK, it’s OK, I know. I don’t say you are doing anything wrong. I am here for study. There are links between gangs in Paris and London. I am getting an idea of them, you know? A feel, you say.’
‘Gangs? There’s no criminal stuff going on at the club.’
Bruno gave her a long look.
‘You believe that. But your whole club is a front for drugs and prostitution. It is used to launder money.’
‘No!’
‘Oh, Poppy, of course it is. My God. How old are you?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘Nineteen. I have a daughter, four years younger than you.’
‘You’re married?’
‘Divorced. This job, you know.’ He waved his hand, his face darkening.
‘I’m sorry. So what were you doing in the club? Investigating? Are you trying to catch somebody?’
‘No, not at all. Like I say, it is study. Research.’
‘And you came to me just because you wanted to question me?’
‘I’m afraid you think I am using you?’ Bruno laughed. ‘If a man wants to hit you or fuck you for money, that is fine, but if he wants to talk to you, that is very bad. You don’t think this is strange, Poppy?’
‘I don’t know. It is a bit, I suppose,’ she said, still feeling as if the cuffs were upon her.
‘Who is in charge of the club?’ he asked.
‘I don’t want to tell you, now.’
‘I can find out very easily,’ he said with a shrug.
‘She’s called Allyson. Allyson Bruce.’
‘She hired you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you really, absolutely truthfully, like working there?’