"William Hans, I must remind you that the Police Station needs every man it can get right now. Our private relationship does not give you permission to skip work whenever you please."
Commissioner Norman's face sagged, and he scratched his head again.
He had a shady job on his hands that he had wanted William to handle for him, but William had been nowhere to be found for two whole days. Left with no choice, he had gone himself in disguise. Fortunately, no one had recognized him.
Ever since William entered the room, Norman had seemed agitated, tugging at his collar one moment and scratching his head the next.
At this rate, William wondered how much longer that sparse patch of grass on the commissioner's head could hold out.
"You seem to have something on your mind."
"That's none of your business. Get back to work."
Norman waved impatiently, only to stop William just as he was about to step out.
"Wait. Close the door... It's Mr. Falcone. He's still not out of danger."
"Mr. Falcone was attacked?"
"By his aging cardiovascular system, to be precise. This episode was particularly serious. I went to see him yesterday, but they wouldn't let me in."
That explained Norman's anxiety.
His greatest backer's fate hung in the balance, and the man poised to inherit his criminal empire was his youngest son, Alberto.
He was a brooding fellow whom even an old fox like Norman could not read.
"How long ago did this happen?" William pressed.
"Today makes three days. By the way, including you, no more than five people know about this. Don't breathe a word of it."
Norman had desperately needed someone to vent to, or he would never have told a small fry like William. Naturally, he regretted it the moment