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Jeffers smacked the desktop. “He’s a criminal!”
“And not a dumb one. Who commits a crime and then helps the police solve it?”
Jeffers threw his hands up. “He’s toying with you!”
“Quiet!” Anne hissed. “God, do yo
u have to scream? This is a police station, not a day care.”
“You’d think so,” grumbled Davis at his desk. He didn’t look up from his computer screen. “But we’re lousy with twenty-somethings these days. Pretty hard on the diaper supply.”
“C’mon, Davis. Anne changes her own diapers,” Jeffers said.
“Anne has changed actual diapers and raised a teenager,” Anne snapped. “And now I have to raise a thirty-one-year-old partner.”
Davis laughed loudly.
“Hey,” Jeffers objected. “Yeah, Spencer gave us a tip, but he’s trouble.”
“Of course he’s trouble, kid.” Davis sipped coffee from his mug. “But you two gotta be able to figure out when to listen to the trouble and when to cut it loose. We’ve got all kinds of informants, especially in this city.”
“I’m not a kid,” Jeffers said. “She’s a kid.”
“She’s inexperienced,” Davis shot back. “You’re stupid. One of those two things can change.”
Anne covered her mouth and looked to Jeffers to see if he would lose it or laugh. His face was growing red, but neither of them was really able to hold their own with the other detectives. Everyone else had solved more cases, but obviously, they’d been around longer.
“True enough, man.” Jeffers shrugged and pinched his lips to the side. “So, I guess next time you get stuck on a case, you’re not gonna be looking for help from our little baby detective here?”
Anne pulled a lollypop out of her desk, unwrapped it, and started sucking as vigorously as Evie had on her pacifier. Davis looked up. Anne smiled, knowing that her lips had gone a bit red and that Davis was growing increasingly uncomfortable.
Score one for the baby detectives.
Anne’s phone buzzed, and she looked to see she had a new email from the traffic control. Granted they were busy down there, but they might’ve just called. She scanned the message quickly, then pocketed her phone and grabbed her jacket.
“Where are we going?” Jeffers asked.
“You are going to start looking for reports of that mark in previous unsolved murder cases,” Anne said. “I am going to go warn Spencer that some of the cops that have been following him around aren’t cops at all.”
Chapter Seven
William rubbed his wrist and dropped into the chair at his desk. It had been some time since he’d slipped out of handcuffs and, in truth, it hadn’t really been necessary today. He just couldn’t let that insufferable ass show him up in front of Anne. She’d looked so apologetic as her partner had manhandled him. William could’ve laid that fool out easily; however, there was no wisdom in fighting a cop in his own station. Thus, it had been a good thing his paranoia had him carrying a paperclip in his shoe.
He couldn’t get a read on Anne after their last meeting. When had she become so inclined to worry about his safety? With the looks she’d given him, he’d half expected her to roll him in a blanket and give him a cup of hot cocoa with little marshmallows in it. Had she forgotten that he was a criminal? Had she forgotten that his father ran a decently-sized empire of black market goods and drug trade based in Europe? William had suffered rougher handling before the age of seven than he’d endured today. No one would search a rosy-cheeked, golden-haired little boy. He’d been too innocent to suspect.
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.”
