‘unflappable’ used that many times in describing a person. I hope you recognize yourself.”
“Milton would make a great con. Not that I’d recommend that life to anyone I actually cared about.”
“He also said you looked troubled on the way back. Did something happen?”
She glanced at his cottage. “Can we talk inside?”
Describing the interior of Stone’s cottage as spartan would have been generous indeed. A few chairs, a number of odd tables, sagging shelves of books in multiple languages and an old worm-eaten partner’s desk, together with a small kitchen area, bedroom and tiny bath all outlined in roughly six hundred square feet constituted the man’s entire domicile footprint.
They sat near the empty fireplace on the two most comfortable chairs, meaning the only ones with padding.
“I came here to tell you I’m leaving. And after everything that’s happened, I feel like I owe you an explanation,” she said.
“You don’t owe me anything, Annabelle.”
“Don’t say that!” she snapped. “This is hard enough as it is. So hear me out, Oliver.”
He sat back, crossed his arms and waited.
She pulled the newspaper article from her jacket pocket and passed it across to him. “Read this first.”
“Who is this Anthony Wallace?” he asked after he’d finished.
“Someone I worked with,” she said vaguely.
“Someone you worked a con with?”
She nodded absently.
“Three people killed?”
Annabelle rose and started pacing. “That’s the thing that’s driving me crazy. I told Tony to lay low and not flash the cash. But what did he do? He did the exact opposite and now three innocent people are dead who shouldn’t be.”
Stone tapped the paper. “Well, from the looks of it your Mr. Wallace will soon be making it a quartet.”
“But Tony wasn’t innocent. He knew exactly what he was getting into.”
“And what exactly was that?”
She stopped pacing. “Oliver, I like you and I respect you, but this is a little . . .”
“Illegal? I hope you realize that comes as no great shock to me.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“I doubt anything you could have possibly done would surpass what I’ve seen in life.”
She cocked her head. “Seen, or done?”
“Who’s after you and why?”
“That’s no concern of yours.”
“It is if you want me to help you.”
“I’m not looking for help. I just wanted you to understand why I have to leave.”
“Do you really think you’ll be safer on your own?”
“I think you and the others will be a lot safer without me around.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I’ve been in plenty of jams before and I’ve always managed to get myself out of them.”
“Out of a jam this tight?” He glanced at the paper. “This person doesn’t seem to fool around.”
“Tony made a mistake, a big one. I don’t intend on doing that. I lay low, for as long as it takes, and as far away from here as I can get.”
“But you don’t know what Tony might have told them. Did he have any information that could be used to track you down?”
Annabelle perched on the edge of the fireplace’s raised hearth. “Maybe,” she said tersely. “Probably,” she corrected.
“Then all the more reason for you not to go this alone. We can help protect you.”
“Oliver, I appreciate the sentiment but you have no idea what you’re getting into. Not only is this guy the scum of the earth with a lot of money and muscle behind him, but on top of that, what I did was illegal. You’d be harboring a criminal on top of risking your life.”
“Not the first time on either count,” he replied.
“Who are you?” she asked pointedly.
“It took me decades before I could ask anyone to help me.”
She looked puzzled. “But you’re glad you did?”
“It’s the only reason I’m alive right now. Move out of your hotel and into another one. I’m assuming you have money.”
“Cash is not a problem.” She rose and started to the door but turned back. “Oliver, I appreciate this.”
“Let’s hope you can say that when it’s all over.”