Entangled Strings Of Fate

Chapter 10: Private Number

Inside the elegantly furnished lounge, the detectives remained on their feet, their eyes surveyed the room with focused intensity, their muted chatter and shuffling of feet echoed softly against the polished floors.

But when they caught sight of William stepping inside the room, the detectives moved towards him in a coordinated manner, seamlessly breaking from their small clusters of discussion.

One detective moved with calm confidence, his measured pace showed control, while the other trailed slightly behind, his demeanor marked by cunning yet courteous manner. It was very different from his partner's confidence.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jones," the composed detective greeted, his voice smooth and steady, "I'm Detective Connor Flynn. And this is my part..."

Before Connor could finish, Harris interjected, his face lighting up with an enthusiastic smile, "I'm Harris Miller, Mr. Jones. It's such a pleasure to meet you! I've heard that you are one of the finest architects in the country. Well, how does it feel to be the best?" His words flowed effortlessly with his extended hand.

Built-in doubt stayed in William's eyes that were set deep. He paused for a short time before he took Harris's hand, which was stretched out. As their palms touched, he looked closely at Harris's face, judging. The light smile on William's lips, hid the displeasure and unease stirring within him at the unexpected arrival of the seem to be detectives.

"Umm... it feels nice, detective," William remarked, his voice a blend of warmth and tension as he gestured toward the striking orange high-rise sofa that dominated the room's modern decor.

"Please take a seat," William settled into his chair, his posture revealing both vulnerability and confidence as the light coming from the window danced across his features, highlighting the complexity of his emotions.

"Looks like we've arrived at a busy moment, you seem quite occupied," Connor remarked, as both he and Harris settled down in front of William.

William responded with a steady voice, "Oh... that, well, the work you do carries its own weight, so it's alright, they can handle it."

"Doesn't every work carry its own weight Mr. Jones?" Harris remarked swiftly, a playful smile dancing on his lips as he leaned forward slightly. "Other than that, I believe the weight of work gets influenced by the background of the work itself."

As he spoke, William tilted his head slightly to the side, intrigued by the subtle implications of Harris's words.

Connor, sensing his words having an ambiguous sense, interjected with a polite but firm tone, clearing his throat to regain focus. "Mr. Jones," he said, "Let's skip the formal pleasantries and address the main cause for which we are here, as I understand that your time is valuable, and we don't want to take you away from other pressing matters."

William, who was already concerned about their real identity and their intention behind arrival, started to get a little stuffy with Harris's comment, but with Connor's suggestion to skip to the questioning part, without any hesitation he replied, "Yes, you can ask, what you want to ask," putting his one foot above the other one.

"Mr. Jones, I have questions related to your neighborhood. Did you see anyone who looked suspicious to you?" Connor started with his questions.

"Suspicious, huh? Well, as you might know, my wife is an anonymous but famous painter, and many times paparazzi try to follow her. So, I can't exactly put them into the suspicious category," William replied comfortably.