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“Now?” Roberts echoed incredulously.

“He’ll be coming back from his lunch any time now.” Stanley turned to go and looked at Roberts impatiently. Obviously he was expected to drop everything at Stanley’s whim. Why wouldn’t he be? He was Stanley’s lackey, wasn’t he?

“Right now?” Roberts stood back and folded his arms. “I– I’m–”

“Busy?” Stanley threw a scornful look at the crossword puzzle book tucked inside of the brown leather ledger that Roberts had pushed aside.

Heat started to creep into Roberts’ face. “No.”

“Good.” Stanley turned away again and made for the door. Cursing, Roberts snatched up his jacket and his hat and followed after him.

“Your car,” Stanley said when they got outside the station. He fitted a Fatima cigarette between his lips and lit it with an elaborate flint wheel lighter that probably cost more than Roberts made in a month.

Grumbling, Roberts walked around the corner to where his car was parked and pulled it back around to where Stanley was standing in the front of the building.

Stanley climbed into the Ford and snapped his door shut. “The Mayo building.”

“How do you know he’s coming back from lunch?” Roberts pulled the car out onto the road, heading toward 5th Street.

“I rang his secretary and made an appointment,” said Stanley. The smell of Stanley’s Turkish cigarette was making Roberts’ already finicky stomach begin to twist.

“You don’t think he’s going to make an objection to seeing you on his appointment ledger?” Roberts braked for a couple of kids who darted out into the street and ground his teeth together to keep himself from shouting at them.

“Watch where you’re going,” Stanley drawled. “Kids running around.”

Roberts kept his reply to himself.

“I didn’t make an appointment for Walter Stanley,” Stanley went on. “I made an appointment for Police Lieutenant Roberts.”

“Great.” Roberts tightened his hands on the wheel. Silence fell between them while they made the short trip over to the Mayo building. He found parking half of a block away and then killed the gently ticking engine.

Stanley wasted no time climbing from the car. He put the cigarette out on the bottom of his lace up boot and then tossed the butt aside. He led the way to the building without looking behind him at Roberts. Arrogant enough to assume that Roberts would follow him. Also certain enough of himself that Roberts posed no threat to him. The very idea of it made him grind his teeth together as he followed, and he wished he could plunge a dagger into his back.

When they stepped into Linus’s place of business, Roberts took his hat off and began to compulsively smooth his hair back. Stanley kept his hat on as they walked up to the reception desk, drawing a look of rebuke from the secretary, but he paid her no mind. He talked to her in a low voice while Roberts hung back and wished he could disappear into the ground.

He was a police lieutenant, goddammit. And here he was being bullied by criminal scum that wasn’t fit to be stuck to the bottom of his shoes.

And yet, and yet, and yet, Stanley had friends in higher places than he did. The man could walk into the policeprecinct like he was strolling onto the golf course, for Christ’s sake.

God, he needed a drink.

The secretary led them down a corridor to Linus’s office at the end of the hallway, where tall, elegant windows looked out over the green country around them. Linus rose from his desk and started to open his mouth. The too-bright smile melted off of his face. Color immediately rushed into his cheeks and though it came and went quickly, Roberts didn’t miss the look of fury that came over his face at the sight of his wife’s paramour.

“Tea, if you would, Margaret,” he said to the girl who stepped behind them to close the door.

Stanley turned and walked over to the door, catching it by the handle as Margaret tried to close it. He held a folded bill between his two fingers that the girl took with some hesitation.

“Forget the tea. Don’t open this door.” Then Stanley hustled her out the door and snapped it shut behind her.

He turned to look at Roberts, who was watching him with a mild, mesmerized horror. Then his gaze traveled over Roberts’ shoulder and assumed an expression that sent a distinctly unpleasant prickle over Roberts’ skin. Though it was subtle, it was enough to make Roberts want to take a step back. Instead, he turned and looked at Linus, whose expression was a perfect reflection of how Roberts was feeling.

“R-Roberts,” Linus said, obviously trying to collect himself. He made a show of shuffling the papers on his deskand cleared his throat. “How can I be of service to the Tulsa Police Department?”

“We– Well, I–” Roberts started to say, but Stanley crossed the room before he could even get a full sentence out of his mouth.

Linus tensed and stumbled back a little, as if he wasn’t sure if it was within his dignity to run. He started to babble something, but Stanley caught him by the tie and then by the back of his head. He used his grip on both to propel Linus’s face toward his desk. A shout of surprised protest was cut off by a sickening smack.

“Fuck!” Linus said, letting out a wail that would have embarrassed most people. He fell back onto his ass, crumpled like a miserable piece of paper. Blood poured from his nose, and covered the side of his hand, where he’d put it up from his face to try to stem the flow. “What in God’s name–”

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