The Detective's Dilemma Read Online Free PDF

closer—so if Walker wanted to move on her again, he’d have to do it soon.
    “You’re so casual, as if you are held at gunpoint every day of your life.”
    Usually something far worse than a woman with a gun held him hostage. That explained why this incident felt slightly exhilarating. As an actual prisoner, he decided he was allowed to ignore all other problems.
    He shook his head. “Nope, this is the first time.”
    The knife grinder came into sight, pushing his small cart, which rumbled over the cobblestones. His call echoed down the street, but no one came out of the houses.
    Walker tried to make conversation. “I didn’t know this street was so quiet. It wasn’t on my old beat.”
    No answer. She walked in the street at several arms’ lengths distance, giving him frequent wary glances.
    To entertain himself, he pondered what she’d do if he ran away. Shoot him? Give him holy hell?
    She said, “You’re smiling again. It worries me.”
    He grinned wider then. “Are we going to walk the streets all day and through the night until tomorrow? We should go indoors. Maybe a restaurant or a library. I promise not to make a scene in front of other people.” He lied, of course. If he could steer her to Broadway, he knew a couple of the uniforms—the handsome tall cops who walked that beat. He could get her over there, shout Police! Drop your weapon and get some help from those boys.
    He said, “We might do better to head toward the busier streets. Two people would be forgotten in a crowd.”
    “You think we should stroll down Broadway?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “I wish I’d worn one of my old morning calling gowns instead of this sack,” she muttered.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “We are supposed to be a pair. Your suit is considerably better made than my gown. You and I are not a match.”
    She thought they should look like a pair, eh? Intriguing notion. “You look good to me,” he said. True, her hair was coming loose and there was flour on her sleeve, but she had that fine posture. And though it hung on her rather than fitted her form tightly, the blue of her plain gown looked good against her skin. He had a notion that she should have a bustle, more lace or furbelows and whatnot.
    She drifted a little farther from him. “We are so unlikely together, I imagine we might draw stares.” She eyed him. “I must say, I do not understand why, or rather how, a detective can appear to be a prosperous lawyer.”
    The suspicion in her voice was clear. The corruption and bribery in the police department was hardly a secret to anyone who lived in the city and she had to know the job to visit her wasn’t standard.
    He fought the absurd indignation—she wasn’t so far wrong about his corruption.
    Walker wanted her to trust him, so he attempted an explanation. “My family had wealth. And you’re not as observant as you think. This suit is several years old.”
    “But it was made for you.”
    He nodded. Once upon a time, all his clothes had been custom-made.
    They continued their parallel march in silence, and he could sense her sidelong looks examining him. “Yes. I see that your shoes are well made, but the leather is worn.”
    He laughed. “And I was wrong when I said you’re not observant.”
    “Before my marriage, I had a fascination with fashion and clothing.”
    “No longer?” The breeze picked up, and he pushed his hands into his pockets to warm them.
    “I can’t even recall what it was like to be that girl. If I met her on the street, I think I’d stare in astonishment.” She gestured. “Here, we’ll turn right at this corner.”
    They headed west toward the river and walked another block toward a noisier cross street. Heavy clouds rolled in, and he wondered when the rain would start.
    Two ladies passed them, and he gave a pleasant nod and raised his hat. They walked past carriages and several pushcarts.
    She’d calmed since his failed attempt to take her gun. He still felt filled with the