Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
When the call is over, I’m barely able to stop short of throwing the phone across the room. “The man is lucky there’s an ocean between us,” I growl. “He acts like there’s nothing unusual about a personal guard vanishing out of nowhere.”
“What are you thinking?”
That’s the problem. I don’t know what to think. “It only seems strange. Too convenient.” And I would like to know what the man was doing while my grandfather was in an assassin’s crosshairs. I didn’t cross paths with him much, but I would know him on sight. He stayed very close to Grandfather when he visited the townhouse. Looking back, I remember appreciating his solicitousness and how seriously he seemed to take his job.
And now he’s disappeared?
We’re in the car before Prince speaks again. “It could be he feels guilty. He fell short of his job.”
“He could also be an enormous pussy, afraid to face me after getting my grandfather killed.”
“Also possible, yes.”
“Either way, I would like to hear about what he’s been doing with himself since then.” And why my grandfather would have reason to pay him personally. What sort of private arrangement did they have? The questions mount.
I’m not surprised when we pull up in front of a modest-looking apartment complex block away from the downtown area. Our men are paid well enough that they won’t be easily lured over to the other side, a mistake other families have made. They barely pay their men enough that they can afford to eat, and they wonder why the guys break ranks. Another of Grandfather’s lessons. It’s amazing how many of them come back to me now without me trying to bring them up.”
“Apartment 4B,” I announce as we cross the street. We head straight to the fourth floor, passing under an arched entrance and crossing a paved courtyard along the way. A pair of old women sit on a bench and watch our every move from behind enormous sunglasses, but they’re wise enough to keep their mouths shut. I’m sure they’ve seen plenty from their perch, the apartments looking down upon where they sit.
Prince keeps an eye out while I knock on the door to 4B. When there’s no answer after the third round of banging, I cup my hands around my eyes and peer through an opening in the curtains over the front window.
“Do you see anything?” Prince asks.
“Furniture. But that’s it.” I signal for him to follow me, and we return to the entrance, this time stepping into the front office. Along one wall are rows of mailboxes, and the box for 4B is stuffed to the point where the door hangs open. Junk mail—flyers, envelopes addressed to Resident. Nothing personal. He hasn’t picked it up in days, probably weeks. I wonder why no one has emptied it before now.
“Can I help you boys with something?” I turn to find myself observed by an old woman who reminds me a lot of those we crossed paths with outside, except for the lack of sunglasses.
“I would like to see the owner.”
“You looking to rent?” Her mouth is set in a thin line full of disbelief and skepticism.
I barely manage not to laugh out loud at the absurdity of the idea. “No, we’re not interested in renting.”
“Good thing since we don’t have any units for rent at the moment. Just filled the last vacancy yesterday.”
“Would it be 4B?”
“How did you know?”
“Just a hunch.” When her shrewd eyes narrow, I gesture to the mailbox. “It doesn’t look as though anyone has checked the mail in some time.” I lean my elbows against the counter between us and give her my warmest smile. “It would be a big help if I could speak with the owner of the complex. A close friend of mine lived here, and none of us can track him down. We’re concerned. I’m hoping he might have left a forwarding address or some sort of idea of where he could be found.”
“He’s very busy.”
“I’m sure he is, but it will only take a minute.” I give her a wink. “What do you say?”
Now she looks like a grandmother torn between chiding her grandchild and admiring their persistence. The look in her eyes reminds me of the man whose death brought me here. “All right. But just a minute. You can go right in—he’s not really that busy,” she adds in a whisper.
No, I didn’t think he was. He can’t even be bothered to empty the mailbox of a unit that’s been unoccupied for a while.
Prince precedes me, opening the door. The paunchy man behind the desk sits upright all at once—and unless I’m mistaken, he’s holding something, which he quickly tucks back into his shorts. Busy, indeed. “What do you boys want? I don’t want any trouble here.”
I cast a pointed look at his crotch. “If you don’t mind, I won’t shake hands. I’m only here for information.” Prince stands to my right, arms folded. I know the two of us make a formidable pair.