A Dangerous Bargain

"What?" I panic, taking Mr Bianchi's coat from Art to see for myself. I pull a small red weapon from the wool pocket and eye it wearily. It looks like an ordinary pocketknife. There's no trace of blood.

"No way." I shake my head. "There's no way."

"Who just carries a pocketknife around with them? And what is he even doing here?" Art hisses back, raising an eyebrow.

"Nobody would be stupid enough to walk around with a murder weapon," I argue.

"Unless you're smug enough to think you won't get caught," Art counters. "Think about it. Why would he think I'd go through his stuff? You can't feel it at all through the thickness of this fabric."

"Why did you go through his jacket anyway?" I ask hurriedly, glancing back at the door to make sure Mr Bianchi is still inside.

'He's a wealthy Italian businessman," Art whispers back in the same tone. "I had a hunch, I don't know. The guy's dodgy as fuck."

"What do I do?" I breathe, attempting to gather my thoughts. "He's asking about the house, that's why he's here."

"Oh my God, he may as well tattoo guilty on his forehead," Art exclaims, looking back to my office. "We play it cool, I'll come back in with you, and we try to get rid of him as fast as we can."

He pauses before speaking again. "While we're there, maybe we try to get as much incriminating evidence as possible and then—"

"No!" I stop, forcing myself to take a breath. "No, you're right. We just get rid of him as fast as possible," I answer, gathering myself.

Mr Bianchi cannot be a killer. Can he? Sure, he's cold, ruthless, and Italian, but that could just be a coincidence, right? What would he have to gain from killing Jordan? How did he even know Jordan?

Sure, Jordan swooped in and tried to take a deal out from underneath him, but that can't be enough motive. I'm missing too many pieces of the puzzle to simply decide he's the killer.

The only thing I can't explain is why he's here asking about a house the day after Jordan was murdered in it.

My sleep deprived brain is on the verge of collapsing.

"Sorry about that. Adele's a very popular lady," Art takes the lead, and he takes it well. He's easily able to act like his usual self. "She mentioned you were asking about Sawyers Road? That's a new area for you."

Mr Bianchi examines us both before adjusting the gold chain that sits around his hairy chest, on full display due to the unnecessary number of buttons he has undone on his dress shirt.

"A businessman must always look to expand his horizons, Art. I'm sure you understand," Mr Bianchi answers without batting an eyelid.

The atmosphere in here suddenly feels colder than it did ten minutes ago.

"Well, as I mentioned Sawyers Road went under contact yesterday, but I'd be happy to keep an eye out on anything new that comes up," I manage to say in my usual professional tone despite the unease building within the pit of my stomach.

"I would appreciate that Adele, thank you." He smiles at me before standing, shaking Art's hand and then turning to me.

He pulls me into a firm handshake, leaning close enough to make me nervous.

"Tell Milo I say hello," he whispers.

Milo? Milo?! My subconscious screams at me.

I do my best not to look fazed, keeping my expression neutral. "I'm not sure what you mean," I answer, watching the sly smile grow on his face.