“Do you two need a lift?”
One of the boys had wanted a car. He’d bought a battered old heap for chicken feed, worked on it in his spare time, and got it running like a charm. When he’d moved on to every rent boy’s dream—being kept by a rich man—he’d left the car behind, and it was stored in the garage at the rear of the property. We rarely used it. For the most part it was just easier for us to get around DC using mass transit.
However, it had been a hellacious long day, and I wasn’t in the mood to wait for a bus.
I glanced at Wills. He was looking at me. I was good at reading people’s expressions—it helped in my line of work—and I grinned. Yep, definitely still interested. I turned to Vincent. “We’re good.”
“Don’t keep him up too late.” Did Vincent have any idea what I wanted to do to William Matheson if he gave me the opportunity? I almost missed what Vince said next. “Matheson, I won’t be in until after the autopsy…”
Autopsy?