I ran my fingers through my hair. “This has always been about the violin.”
Rafael shrugged. “Perhaps, but it was the way that you stared at her tonight that makes me want to grab my gun. Giorgio should go with you.”
“I’m going alone.”
“Okay,” Giorgio said. “Will you need the leather case?”
“No.”
“Okay. Contact me if you need me.” Giorgio pulled out his phone. It was his signal that he was out of the argument.
Rafael eyed me. “Why won’t you need your case?”
“Because I couldn’t cut someone so beautiful.”
Rafael groaned.
“Relax. We’ll leave America soon.”
He hissed, “You said that about Paris and we stayed there for years.”
“Belladonna isn’t Paris.”
“And this violinist isn’t—”
“Enough!” I turned and gazed out the window.
All knew not to speak her name, especially Rafael. While him and I shared a throne, there were few things that could bring us at odds.
My ex-wife was one of them.
His ego was the other.
Rafael glared at me. “You had this look with. . .her.”
“And now she is dead.”
“Because I killed her.”
“In some ways, we both did.”
“But the problem is. . .you don’t even know which her I’m talking about anymore.”
Silence filled the limo.
Streetlights blurred in a long glowing line as we drove toward the Red Light District.
There’s no need to be mad at Rafael. He’s just trying to keep me tied up to the ship, so I won’t jump out of the boat and swim over.
“You worry too much, Rafael.” I looked at him. “I’m going to get the violin and leave. She’ll file the theft claim. There will be no fingerprints or tracks for them to find. We’ll have no problems from any country’s authorities.”
“And if we do?”
“Then, I’ll kill everybody.”
“Do you know why I call you le boucher?”
“Not this again.”
“It’s not because of your knife skills. It’s due to your disastrous approach at life. You always butcher it up, leaving dead bodies all around us.”
“Well. . .did you at least bring your gloves and shovel to America?”
“I did.”
I gave him a wicked smile. “One should always be prepared.”
“Especially when traveling with you.”
We arrived at the city’s famous Red Light District.
“Which brothel will you try this evening?” I asked.
“The Candy Shop again. High elegance and the best women in the city.”
“But still subpar to your liking?”
“You only focus on the violin. I’ll concentrate on the standards of this city’s pussy.”
The limo parked in front of the Candy Shop. They left. I gave my driver the address that Louis texted me. Currently, he sat in a car in front of the violinist’s apartment.
Twenty minutes later, the limo parked three blocks away from the address.
I couldn’t deny there was a certain excitement to stepping into the violinist’s home. After jail and then two years of fighting a war, it was nice to break into someone’s place for another purpose besides killing them.
I left the limo. Giorgio remained just in case I needed some sort of back up. I doubted it as I headed toward her townhouse.
This Eden stayed in a working-class neighborhood. The typical place a musician would be.
I scanned the space and remained within the shadows. It was after ten. No one walked the sidewalk. An alley sat between her building and another.
Louis stepped out of darkness.
I’d almost jumped. “Which room is hers?”
“Her bedroom had two windows.” He pointed to the corner of the building. “One facing the front street and a side one showing the alley.”
“Does she have a roommate?”
“One. Black guy. He’s in the symphony too. There was another guy with the roommate when they all arrived home from the concert. The roommate and the guy left holding hands. I put Felix on them.”
“Hmmm. And did our violinist have any admirers?”
“Yes. He walked her to the door, kissed her, and said goodbye. He played the cello. It was in his car when he left.”
“Hmmm.” An odd feeling hit me. Not jealousy or intrigue, but a bit of annoyance. “Anyone following the celloist?”
“No.”
“Get someone on him.”
Louis raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
Why would she date a celloist? None of them were even up to her playing ability on the stage.
I frowned. “Is there a back entrance?”
“Yes. This way.” Louis guided me through the alley and kept his voice low. “The lock is simple.”
“You’ve been inside?”
“Yes.”
I checked the knob. He hadn’t even locked it back probably expecting this to be a different type of job. “After tonight, don’t go inside her apartment again.”
He nodded.
We stayed moving forward. Silent. No sounds. No creak. Neither one of us had made it this far in our world from making noise at the wrong time.
He pointed to the right. Nodding, I signaled for him to stay in the hallway.
A celloist? You can do better than that.
Several violins hung on the wall leading to her room. Part of me was so intrigued by the collection, I almost stayed there and studied them. But there was no time for that, not if I didn’t want to hurt her.