Tricks of the Trade - By Laura Anne Gilman Page 0,12

appeared to have been disturbed, not even a trace of dirt on the parquet floor where a plant might have been knocked over.

The woman stopped the moment they entered the room. “Mr. Wells.”

It was less an introduction than an announcement, the way a museum docent might say “The Mona Lisa.” The client was – to all appearances – an ordinary sixty-something-year-old male. Tall and well built, with skin just naturally dark enough to avoid assumptions of WASPy wealth but not so much that an observer assumed any particular ethnicity. His head was clean-shaven, his face lined and slightly creased around the eyes and mouth. His clothing was rich-man’s casual – a pair of expensive twill slacks, and a black pullover sweater that obviously was cashmere, and not a cheap single-ply weave, either.

“These are the – ”

“The investigators I hired.” His voice was cultured, almost lazy, with an oddly clipped drawl. “Yes. Thank you, Joyce. You may go now. Please remind the staff not to touch anything in the affected rooms.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please,” the client said, waving to a grouping of cloth-upholstered chairs off to the side of the room. “Be seated.”

They sat. The chairs weren’t as comfortable as they looked.

“You had a break-in last night.” Nick took the lead without checking with Sharon, continuing how they had begun with the housekeeper. It was fifty-fifty how the client would respond, but Sharon’s truth-sensing would be a strength here, and it was easier to use it when she could focus her attention entirely on the subject, without worrying about how to phrase the questions. And Nick, while not diplomatic, could do a solid guy-to-guy thing. So Sharon sat and watched, and listened.

“Yes. It happened early this morning, actually. Around 3:00 a.m. We heard the noise.”

“We?” They knew already, from the original report, but the more the client talked, the more detail they could pick up, even if the client didn’t think it was important.

“My staff – Joyce, my housekeeper, and Clark, my cook. I live alone, otherwise.”

“And you did not go down to investigate?”

Wells looked surprised, and a little amused. “I think not. I assumed that the silent alarm had gone off and the police would be arriving soon. Joyce and Clark both know to stay in their rooms in such a case, to ensure that they are not mistaken for the intruder by the police. That would be most unfortunate.”

“Indeed. And the police came... ”

“They did not. The intruder managed to bypass all the sensors. Neither my security firm nor my local police department knew anything had occurred until I informed them.” His voice boded not-well for both security firm and police. “It was then I suspected something out of the usual had occurred.”

Magic, he meant, although like most Nulls he resisted actually saying the word.

“When I came down this morning, after the noise had ended, I found... ” He sighed, shaking his head. “Wanton destruction.”

So it hadn’t been a temper tantrum. Or the client was lying. Nick didn’t look at Sharon, keeping all of his attention on the client. “What valuables were taken?”

Wells frowned, a slight furrowing of his expression more than any downturn of his lips. “Very little. A few... trinkets, things I’ve had for a long time, but nothing of particular value beyond the sentimental. The cash in the safe, but none of the papers – securities and whatnot. Most of the truly valuable items are kept in my vault in the bank, of course.”

“Of course,” Sharon echoed, almost involuntarily. Neither pup believed it for a moment. This was the sort of man who kept everything he really valued close at hand. Sharon would also have said he wasn’t a man who had sentimental attachment to anything that wasn’t also worth a great deal, financially.

She’d worked for the type before; they made your life miserable, watching over everything you did no matter how good you were because they didn’t trust anyone, not really, no matter how many times you’d proved yourself.

It made sense now, that Venec had sent the two of them, and not Bonnie or Nifty. They were good, but Nifty could get his ego tied up in the job, and Bonnie was so honest, someone like this would assume her openness meant she was hiding something. Both those things, with someone like Wells, could cause a problem if he took it the wrong way. Sharon and Nick, on the other hand, looked like exactly what they said they were, and that any sneaky bits they invoked were