“Whoa, you came to Florida packing?”
Jun looked at me briefly before grabbing it. “I don’t go anywhere without a service weapon.”
“Even on vacation?” Because I found that sort of… sad.
Jun didn’t respond, just put the shoulder holster on. He opened the door and said, “Would you grab the suit coat in the back seat?”
I partially climbed over the console to reach the folded G-man coat before getting out of the car. “You came prepared.”
Jun adjusted his weapon as he came toward me, took the coat, and hid the gun as he slid it over his shoulders.
“You think there’s something dangerous inside the unit?” I asked, looking up.
“I’d rather not take any chances. Stay behind and out of the way, okay?”
Tillman climbed out of his car beside us and removed the folded warrant from an inner pocket before leading the way.
“Regarding Josh Moore,” Jun said, the scuff of his shoes on the pavement echoing over his words. “Aubrey hired him to paint the first floor of the Smith Home. He finished that two weeks ago.”
“Is that so.”
“It might account for the broken window in the parlor,” Jun continued.
Tillman stopped and turned to face Jun.
“He’s similar in appearance to the description Aubrey gave of the second intruder.”
Watching Jun work Tillman was pretty awesome. I think his good-cop thing was making it difficult for Tillman to even be properly annoyed, since Jun was technically helping. Just, you know, sort of passive-aggressively.
“I don’t suppose he shared yesterday’s whereabouts with you?” Tillman asked.
“He did not.”
Tillman looked at me briefly before nodding and walking toward the business once more. “I’ll look into it.” He opened the front door, held it for us, then approached the counter. He flashed his badge at a disinterested woman.
“I’ve a search warrant, ma’am,” he said, sliding the form over. “Unit 513, belonging to a Lou Cassidy.”
She chewed her gum loudly, popping a bubble while glancing over the legal form—like anyone actually read that mumbo jumbo. “Fine with me,” she stated after a moment. “He’s a week late on payment. Will the police be paying that?”
Tillman just smiled. “Do you have bolt cutters?”
She sighed and got to her feet. “Yup. Head on through that door,” she said, indicating a door to our right. “Unit 513 is down the middle aisle on the left side. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Appreciate it,” Tillman said, and I swore if he had a hat on, he would have tipped it.
Jerk never used his hat-tipping voice on me.
Then again, I had been sort of a sassy smartass with him the last few—er, all the meetings we’d had so far.
Jun opened the door leading to the units, holding it for Tillman and me before bringing up the rear. “I must admit,” he said quietly. “Curiosity is getting the best of me.”
“You and me both,” Tillman called. “Man’s apartment is a shrine to all things nautical. I can only guess as to what’ll be in here.” He stopped outside an orange door about four by four feet. He looked at me and Jun. “I’ll be disappointed if it’s Christmas decorations.”
The office door opened behind us and echoed loudly as it slammed shut. The woman from the counter was walking toward us with a hefty pair of bolt cutters. “Here you are, gentlemen,” she said, handing the tool over to Tillman. “Please don’t make a mess. I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”
Tillman thanked her and waited until she’d slammed the door again. He took the clippers to the combo lock on the door, quickly snapping it. He slipped it free and pocketed the lock pieces before setting the cutters down on the floor.
Jun took my arm and gently maneuvered me to stand behind him. He removed his gun and took a readied stance as Tillman yanked the door open.
