Buffy jerked her head up from the schedule she was correcting at her desk. She saw a grinning William Pratt standing in her open doorway.
Buffy resisted the urge to smooth her hair as he sauntered into her office.
“Come in?” she asked rhetorically as he unceremoniously dropped into the chair opposite her desk.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Buffy started to cross her arms, but realizing she was adopting a defensive posture, quickly unfolded them and clasped her hands together and rested them on her desk instead. “Um, how are you?”
He looked pleased. “Fine,” he said simply. “How’re you?”
She was clearly a bit flustered by his unannounced visit. William was glad because it gave him a few moments to take her in. Right away he noticed her thick blonde hair was wavier and wilder than the straight style she usually wore it in. She was wearing a light pink tank-style sweater that had a texture that reminded him of the crochet his mother used to do. He wasn’t sure if it was the feminine color, the tight fit, or the fact that so much of her toned, tanned skin was visible, but the overall effect surpassed even the most provocative mental images of her he had conjured up since he had last seen her. The whole visual package she presented was appealing in a way that he would have thought only some customized design-a-girl program, mastered no doubt by a whiz like Andrew, was capable of creating.
A puzzled Buffy observed him silently watching her, wondering what he was doing there until she suddenly remembered his two phone messages from the previous week.
“I was gonna call you—,” she started to say.
He waved his hand, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Just got busy—”
“We can have our little pow-wow right now,” he suggested easily.
Buffy nodded. “’Kay.” She paused. “So what have you heard? Any progress at the D.A.’s office?”
“Straight to business then.” He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Well, progress? That would be nil. But I have a plan. ‘Fore we get to that, though, why don’t you fill me in on your end.”
Buffy considered what to tell him. “Not much to tell. If they can’t connect Holtz’s murder to Hamilton soon it won’t matter if Hamilton surfaces or not.” She sighed as her whole body relaxed back in her chair. “At least Dashawn will be able to go home. I heard he’s going stir-crazy.”
“I can imagine. A sixteen year-old on lockdown? Not exactly a tenable long-term situation.”
Buffy shrugged in agreement.
He peered at her. “There something you’re not telling me?”
Buffy shifted uncomfortably. “No.”
William almost laughed aloud. She was a terrible liar. He decided not to push her just yet.
“Fine. Then maybe you can lend a hand with my problem.”
That got Buffy’s attention. “Sure.”
She watched as he drew an elbow up to rest on the back of his chair. The glint of his gold watch peeking through the cuff of his blazer drew her attention, and her eyes rested for a moment on his wrist bone, pale and prominent above the strong veins of his hand.
“I talked to Gavin the other day. Offered my help with Winters. He told me he’s basically giving the man a pass. Now Gavin’s all about the big wins, the flashier the better, so I didn’t know what to make of it at first.”
“Huh.”
“He tried to get me to back off by pointing out how I’d failed with Winters, but really, that should only motivate him to prove he can do what I couldn’t, right?”
“Oh. I guess so.”
“But then something occurred to me.” William paused for effect. “What if he’s on the payroll?”
With him up until his very last words, Buffy exhaled impatiently and asked him suspiciously. “Is this a joke?”
“I’m dead serious.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “And are you just visiting Paranoia-ville today or have you always lived there?”
“It’s not so far-fetched. Winters obviously has connections at City Hall, why wouldn’t he have them in the D.A.’s office too?”
Buffy leaned far forward in her chair. “Do you hear how insane you sound right now? This is your colleague you’re talking about. How long have you worked together?”
“Together? Not bloody likely,” he snorted. “And Gavin’s slipperier than a greased eel. Wouldn’t put much past him.”
Buffy felt a headache coming on. “Why don’t you talk to your boss? Holland Manners? Or Lindsey?”
“Oh please, they’d never believe me.”
Buffy threw up her hands. “So that makes all of us, because I don’t believe you either.”
“Last thing Holland wants is to be told there’s a mole in his shop,” William continued, oblivious to Buffy’s reaction. “All the man cares about is P.R. and his reelection.” He squinted at her. “You must know that,” he said, thinking back to the first time they met.
In fact, William’s characterization fit the man to a tee, in her estimation. But she wasn’t about to admit it.
“So maybe you should just keep your little conspiracy theories to yourself,” Buffy advised, more than a little annoyed he had seen fit to confide in her.
He held his hands up in surrender.
“Fine. Don’t believe me. I’ll be vindicated or not,” William said mysteriously.
“Um-”
“As for Winters,” he went on, “he’s more vulnerable than he's ever been. I can feel it.”
“Okay.” Buffy took a deep breath, relieved they were moving back to rational ground. “So what do we know?”
“He was in business with Holtz. Claims it was all above-board, give or take a contract violation here and there.” William shook his head, disgusted. “Don’t believe it for a second.”
“All right. What can you do about it?”
William immediately relaxed. “Well for starters, Holtz’s files need another look,” he began measuredly.
“Okay.”
“Then there’s the rest of his office. The check-cashing franchise.”
“Right.” She paused. “Wait.”
“It might be tricky trying to find anything useful. Lucky for me, I know just the person to lend a hand,” he finished, looking at her pointedly.
Buffy felt a rising sense of alarm as he revealed his plan.
“Whoa there. You’re heading way off the reservation.”
“It’s the only way to get where others haven’t,” he replied, perfectly calm.
Buffy fidgeted. “When we—when we went down to the Downs, I may have bypassed my old captain but I didn’t do anything illegal.”
William tilted his head and smirked at her. “Do you think you’ve been a bad influence on me?”
Flushing, she retorted, “Only in bizarro world.”
“’Cause that’s terribly cute,” he said, still smirking.
“I am not going to get sucked into your crazy schemes,” Buffy stated categorically, trying perhaps to convince herself above all.
William shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re not going to see this thing through. Must say, I’m a little disappointed,” he clucked.
“See this thing through,” Buffy repeated incredulously.
“Investigate! It’s what you do.” William had leapt up and started pacing before her desk.
She gesticulated wildly from her chair. “Who do you think I am? I mean, take a look around you. Does this look like a precinct? Am I wearing a badge?”
“Didn’t stop you before from getting back in the game,” he pointed out, staring down at her. “Didn’t hesitate to do your bit before so why act the shrinking flower now?”
Buffy bristled at the accusation. “It’s not like I’m retired. I was dismissed. End of story.” She couldn’t stop the flush of humiliation she felt creeping over her.
Refusing to be deterred, William pressed harder.
“If that were really true, we never would have met. You inserted yourself into this mess because it’s important to you. Well, Winters is important to me. And he’s the key to this whole case. He’s the man behind the curtain. He’s the puppetmaster above the—”
“Enough with the bad metaphors, already,” Buffy interrupted. “I get it, I get it.” She paused. “What do you expect me to do anyway?”
“What you do best. Investigate the scene. You’re liable to see something I might miss. You’ve been professionally trained, haven’t you?” he asked, thinking a little goading never hurt. “No matter your current status, it’s all still there.”
“And you’re not worried at all about the legality of tossing his office,” Buffy stated disbelievingly.
“Never said I did this job because I have a love of the law,” he said plainly.
“Well that’s comforting,” Buffy countered, but there was no force behind her words.
William said softly, looking at her, “Sometimes, you have to get information the wrong way before you can get it the right way.”
Buffy was brought up short by William’s statement, which immediately resonated with the bolder and more imprudent side of her character, dormant for so long. She tried to push down that impulse and come up with a rational retort.
But William hadn’t missed the answering gleam in her eyes. He decided there had been enough discussion.
He twirled his key ring around his index finger. “So you ready to go or what?”
William tried not to smile in triumph as they sped across town in his DeSoto. After a few more token protests she’d given in, as he’d instinctively known she would. He avoided examining the actual necessity of persuading her to join him in his wild goose chase. It was easy to tell himself she was an asset as an ally of sorts and even easier to admit how much he appreciated the eye candy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was more fundamental that, though. He just liked being around her—arguing with her and seeing her in action and trying to figure her out—and his true mission had become finding ways to maximize those opportunities, though towards what actual end he pursued them even his most honest, inner self could not yet fully explain.
“So what’s the real deal with you and Winters?” Buffy quizzed him, abruptly interrupting his half-formed train of thought.
He glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”
“You seem to have a personal vendetta against him,” she observed.
“Russell Winters,” William began slowly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, “is a phony in every sense of the word. He’s not even Russell Winters, did you know that? He’s Bernard, like his father. Why he chose to use Russell is beyond me. As if it makes him sound like any less of a ponce,” he scoffed.
“Bastard’s always in the middle of one dodgy deal or ten. He’s careless enough that we get wind of it, and then somehow buys his way out of every jam he gets into. Fancies himself an omnipotent king of Los Angeles. These rich ‘masters of the universe’ are all the same,” William went on, warming to his theme. “And he’s not even self-made. Never had to work for anything. Would have all been better off if he’d just taken daddy’s money and pissed off to Aruba but instead he has to try to make his mark and takes every shortcut to do it,” he concluded venomously.
“Hello chip, meet shoulder,” Buffy remarked with widened eyes, sitting up straight in her seat.
His eyes slid over to her. Worried, he said, “No offense yeah? I wasn’t alluding to you, or yours.”
“No?”
“No. I know you’re nothing like that.”
“You do?” she asked, genuinely surprised by his statement.
“Well, yeah,” he admitted, becoming uncomfortable at the direction the conversation was taking.
“’Cause…” Buffy prompted.
“’Cause you’re just not,” William said crossly, feeling boxed into a corner. Instantly regretting it, he offered sheepishly, “Turns out you’re… quite all right. After all.” Feeling warm, he kept his eyes trained forward on the road.
“Ok, so now I’m starting to think you’ve been taken over by a pod person,” Buffy said lightly as she tried to back off from her leading questions. For some reason, it freaked her out a little when he was overtly nice to her.
William was determined to smooth over the past. “Look, I know things haven’t exactly been—,” he began, before breaking off with a sigh. Starting again, he said, “Couldn’t quite suss you out at first. I, ah, may have heard some misleading things about your background,” William conceded, gauging her response to that admission.
When Buffy didn’t register any reaction, he continued, “And then the cop thing was a little surprising for a girl like you. Threw me for a loop.”
“A girl like me,” she repeated.
“Not because you’re a girl,” he said hastily. “Just—you know. Rich girl.” He said it almost apologetically.
Buffy pursed her lips, considering whether or not to respond. Arching an eyebrow, she announced to him evenly, “I haven’t had a trust fund since I was sixteen.”
A triumphant little smile played on her lips as her words were met with confused silence from William.
“Did I just render you speechless?” Buffy asked primly.
“Uh—“
“Good.”