Ill Will by J.M. Redmann Read Free Book Online Page B

less-than-kind intent—to be able to easily find me. And for the not-so-obvious reason that about a week ago a flyer about a missing pet python had appeared on the street corner.
    But the artist’s inner door was shut and no light appeared in the crack. He had taken over the entire first floor on promises to the landlord he would paint the building. Completion of the painting would mean that he’d have to pay rent, so I didn’t see that happening anytime soon.
    Maybe someone was moving into the second floor, vacant since Katrina. But no one was around up there, all the doors closed, the floors still dusty at the end of the hall, indicating no footsteps had been there in months. Plus if they were moving in, there should have been something glaringly obvious like a huge van or at least a big truck near the open door.
    You’re spooked because someone threatened you , I told myself as I cautiously mounted the stairs to the third floor. Two days ago, I would have assumed it was the wind or humidity that had popped the door open—coupled with someone who forgot to securely lock it. Now I was about to pull my gun to start my workday.
    The door to my office was closed. Everything was as it should be.
    Okay, so I’m being paranoid , I told myself as I fumbled with my keys.
    Just as I was about to insert the key in the lock, the door opened.
    Someone had broken in.
    Tomorrow, I would start my day with coffee and gun in hand.
    I just had to get through today.
    In the split second before I either fled down my stairs or starting throwing kicks and punches, I took in a scene of jarring normality.
    Two people were sitting in the usual client chairs before my desk. Mr. Charles Williams had opened my door to me.
    “What are you doing here?” I demanded. My adrenaline was still poised for flight or fight. Or both.
    “I’m a locksmith. It was looking like rain, so we decided to wait up here for you.”
    “You decided to break into my office?” I was still standing out on the landing and he was holding open the door, as if welcoming me.
    “Nothing harmed, nothing broken. We just wanted to be warm. We even made coffee.”
    Still not moving, I said, “I told you yesterday I couldn’t help you. What made you think it was a smart idea to come back?”
    “I brought a paying customer.”
    For some reason it brought to mind when my cat presents me with a palmetto bug as a present. The cat is very proud, but I don’t want it.
    “I have a phone. Calling first is always a good idea.”
    “This is important. It couldn’t wait. Why don’t you come in and we can talk about this?”
    “Yeah, why don’t I come into my own office,” I muttered and brushed by him.
    It was clear Mr. Williams had been sitting at my desk. I ignored the coffee cup there and claimed my space. I moved his cup as far away as I could.
    For the first time, I looked at the two people in front of me. They seemed to be a couple. She had dull brown hair with split ends crying for attention, clothing of equally dull colors, a brown skirt and beige blouse that buttoned up to her neck. She was petite, maybe five-two or three at most, and her hunched shoulders made her seem even smaller. Her mouth was a little small, her nose too large, her chin a point. She had never been pretty, never the cheerleader or the homecoming queen, too plain and mousy for a starring role, even one on as small a stage as high school. He had on a loud Hawaiian shirt, trendy cargo shorts, and man sandals. His hair was a streaked blond that said either surf or dye, and given the paunch around his waist and how little muscle there seemed in his arms and legs, my money wasn’t on the beach. He was tall, had once been good-looking, but those looks had faded as he got older, the chin no longer firm, the jowls starting to sag, the hair thinning and combed forward in an attempt to hide the elongating forehead.
    If they were indeed a romantic couple of any kind, it proved that opposites attracted.
    A