And, of course, his work here had once been an adjunct of his father’s business. They were separate now, mostly since William didn’t care to be treated as less than a partner when he was twice as good at getting goods, information, and people into and out of places they didn’t belong. It hadn’t helped that his father hadn’t been fazed when one of his associates had put a hit out on William. If the old man couldn’t get it up to be angry that William had almost died, he didn’t deserve to be in on William’s business, or the legal connections that William had built up along with his businesses. Pity if dear old Dad didn’t realize that one was as important as the other.
William pushed himself out of his chair and went to get some more tea. Oddly, the book end of his business was picking up. Suddenly, people actually wanted to buy from independent bookstores again and didn’t mind higher prices if he waved shipping after a certain amount. Funny how that part of it worked. It wasn’t a drop in the bucket to his real holdings, but apart from the paperwork, he did enjoy finding things that were hard to find.
His fingers felt along the side of his shirt. He could feel the scar there easily, as the shirt was silk, and he knew where to look. He remembered Anne’s reaction, her hand touching his side gently, as though he might still be hurt. Even then, she hadn’t looked at him the way she had at the station. Like he was vulnerable.
After doctoring up his tea, William returned to his desk to finish up some paperwork and work a few deals on the dark web. He had some jewelry burning a hole in his inventory, and he’d like to unload it before the police found some flimsy excuse to get a warrant and search everything. Granted, it wasn’t easy to find, and he wasn’t so foolish as to keep it at the hotel or at the store, but some of the police would be able to ferret out his lockboxes and other hiding places. He had taken a break from the side business directly after getting out of prison, and it looked as though he might have to do so again, at least until this murder had been solved.
When the bell at the front door jingled, William quickly cleared everything from his desktop and peered down to the first floor. Anne? Again?
“You know, I’d hate to have to put out a restraining order,” William teased.
Anne looked up. “You need to answer your phone.”
“I put it on silent while I was working. Being harassed by the fuzz is bad for business.”
“Especially yours, I’d guess.” Anne walked to the side of the room. She still couldn’t find the stairway after having seen him use it a few days ago. William might have to admit to needing a cleaning lady in here.
“It’s behind the pile of used textbooks,” William offered. “Not that—Right, there.”
Anne made her way up the curving staircase. “Were you a dragon in a past life? Hoarding books and weird trinkets?”
“I don’t hoard them, love. I sell them.”
“How does anyone find anything in here? I don’t remember your penthouse ever being this messy.” Anne stopped a few feet away from him, keeping her professional distance.
“I don’t keep inventory in my home. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your face almost continuously, even after proving my innocence?” William watched her emerging from the stairs. She hadn’t changed her clothing since that morning. Truthfully, she looked a mess. This case must be quite hard on her. Still, she was lovely, even in her weariness. He sort of adored how she looked when she’d been up too long and drunk too much coffee. The way her hair was escaping her strict bun made him want to run his fingers through it and let it all loose.
“You have proven it. That’s why it would be such a big deal if you were still being tailed.” Anne paused for a beat. “But you aren’t. We checked with highway patrol and our beat cops, and aside from the tail that the captain put on you, which was reporting in regularly until this morning, no one has been following you. And more importantly? No one called in your license last night. There’s zero record of it.”
“Deny it all you like, detective, but I was pulled over, and there’s someone outside my shop right now,” William argued.
“We believe you, Will. What I’m telling you is that the police are officially not following you.” She leaned over slightly. “But someone is.”
William raised his brows. The names of a dozen names of potential enemies rushed to mind. “That’s good to know. Thank you for that, Anne.”
Her perplexed look was warranted. He rarely called anyone by their name or title unless he was mocking them.
“I mean it. Might come as a surprise to you,” he said sarcastically, “but I rub a lot of people the wrong way. No one’s been gunning for me since I got out, as far as I knew, so this intel is critical for me.”