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It's strange that men should take up crime when there are so many legal ways to be dishonest. ~Author unknown, quoted in Sunshine magazine

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“Spread out, cover the area. No one goes in or out. Stop and search everyone!”

The night was chaos, lights shining through dark streets and into midnight skies. Orders were shouted, sighting reports called across otherwise abandoned streets.

Detective Adel Blackwood stood with hands braced on his hips, chewing his lip in frustrated thought. He’d been the head detective in Syracuse for nearly four years now and had caught every criminal. Except this one. The Whisper Man, some people had called him. A king amongst thieves. Already there were fantasies among some women about being whisked away by him. Adel could only wonder what had happened to the white knight.

“Detective!”

Adel turned at his title. “Find anything?”

“Not even a hair. This guy’s a ghost. A fantasma.”

“And you’ve locked down all of the surrounding areas?”

“Yes.”

Adel cursed softly in his native Arabic before saying, “Stop the lockdown, but keep everyone on alert. If he shows his face again, we’ll catch him.” It was like his mantra, his promise. No man could hide forever and even someone known as the Whisper Man was still only a mortal man.

* * *

Adel hung up his coat before continuing into his office/living room. Newspapers and police reports were scattered on his coffee table, empty mugs leaving brown, circular stains on the newsprint. A blanket was strewn on the couch. He set his mail on his four person dining table along with his keys. He was about to head to bed when he noticed the bouquet of flowers on the windowsill.

He could recognize daffodils, purple irises, gladioluses and blue roses. Adel reached out and took the card stuck on one of the rose thorns. In slightly scribbly, closed together handwriting, it read:

Detective Blackwood,

Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on the entertaining show you put on tonight! Truly, I have yet to see its equal, not even in the theaters. The measures you took to try and catch me, they really were laughable. But you do get a bouquet, not only for trying, but for giving me some amusement along with tonight’s entertainment.

See you another night-

The Whisper Man

The detective crumpled the note in anger, throwing it at the wall. The flowers lay there, mocking. Whoever the Whisper Man was, he knew, or wanted Adel to think he knew, that his mother had run a flower store when they’d first moved to Venice. It was the only way that the choice of flowers made sense. Blue roses for mystery or attaining the impossible, probably the thief’s idea of an ironic joke, daffodils for chivalry and respect, the purple irises for wisdom and compliments and the gladiolus for honor and remembrance.

But the message wasn’t in the flowers. The message was the flowers. The message was that the Whisper Man knew where he lived and could get in without a problem.

* * *

Adel could think of a lot of words to describe a man. It was part of his job. But the only word he could come up with for the man standing in front of his desk was ‘plain’. Wheat brown hair curled around his ears that were pierced with small gold hoops. His brown eyes were rather deeply set in his face, occasionally causing shadows to gather there a little unnaturally. He was of average height and built rather slender for a man of his age, which Adel was assuming was maybe twenty-six.

He was dressed perfectly casual in dark wash jeans and a crimson button shirt. His boots, scuffed and looking a little worse for the wear, indicated that he walked a lot for a living.

And yet, this plain man was supposed to help him catch the Whisper Man.

Adel glanced back down at the file. A clean file. The man hadn’t done much wrong, other than get a few tickets. Spanish-born and American-raised. 5’7. 176 pounds.

“You come with high recommendations, Mr…Morales. I’ve met your chief of police in Rome. He is not a man generous with his compliments. But understand that this thief is not some child off of the street stealing wallets and cameras. Two nights ago, he stole Lorenzo Monaco’s The Death of Saint Benedict out of our Church of St. Benedict.”

“Don’t misunderstand, Detective. I’m well aware of the challenges of this operation.” Isandro Morales flashed him a grin and Adel had to rethink his earlier evaluation. He was no longer plain when he smiled like that. He would never be a supermodel, but he couldn’t be overlooked anymore. “And the challenges are what make it fun.”

“It won’t be fun after the first few failures to catch him.” Adel warned.

Isandro arched thin, brown eyebrows as he looked at the older man. Adel didn’t look that much older, not really, despite there being a probable eight year difference between them. Adel had curly, dark brown hair with very light brown skin. His bone structure and last name hinted at a less than pure Middle-Eastern background and Isandro was betting that he was a few inches taller than him.

“It may not be fun for you and perhaps that’s why you had to call me in here in the first place.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a little insolent, Morales?”

“They’re usually a lot more colorful when they say it, but yes.”

Adel wanted to retort to that, but forced himself to remember business. The younger man obviously knew how to draw someone into a verbal spar. “Never mind. Your police chief says you have a unique way of finding thieves, art thieves in particular. Want to elaborate?”

Isandro leaned forward, forearms on his thighs and hands clasped between them. “Well, think about it. All thieves, from the highest class to the camera and wallet stealers on the streets, need someone who will buy the stolen goods. If it’s an art thief, he has no choice but to go through an art dealer. I know of a particularly good art dealer that is quite good at finding the rarer and harder to find art pieces.”

“And where might this art dealer of yours be?”
“She works in Canicattini Bagni. You’re welcome to come with me to meet with her.”

“This art dealer is a woman?”
“This doesn’t present a problem, does it, Detective?”
“No, of course not. The way you described her, it sounded like a man, is all.”
“If you say so. Shall we go then? It’s quite the drive.”

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Adel wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the door, with Mallory Romano, Art Dealer written on a gold nameplate, opened, but he was positive he wasn’t expecting this.

Mallory looked like someone just entering their thirties, her white-blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She had very neutral, gray eyes and she was tall for a woman, nearly Isandro’s height. She wore a cream, V-neck sweater that accentuated a long, slender neck and a black pencil skirt, her olive skin contrasting nicely with all of it. Her calves were encased in black boots with a slight heel and she wore lavender feather earrings.

She blinked in surprise when she saw who was standing at her door. “Mr. Morales. I didn’t think you’d bring your friend.”
Isandro smiled and pushed Adel a little with his hand on his shoulder. “This is Detective Adel Blackwood. He’s in charge of that case that I called you about yesterday.”

“I see. “Mallory turned to him and Adel shook the offered hand with mild surprise. He hadn’t met many women who knew how to shake hands. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Detective. Come in, both of you.”

The inside of her office was tastefully modern. White walls with various prints of paintings. “I would have thought you for one of those people who likes to buy the real thing, not prints.”
Her laughter was bright and sudden. “Detective, I appreciate art. It’s why I went into this business. But I also like to pay my bills on time. Just because other people are willing to pay a ridiculous amount of money for art doesn’t mean I am.” Mallory took a seat behind a glass-top desk, fingers poised over her keyboard. “Now, what was the stolen art?”
“Death of Saint Benedict.” Isandro said casually over his shoulder, eyes focused on the prints on the wall. “You’ve gotten some new prints, I see. Going for Japanese this time, then?”

Adel followed Isandro’s eyes and saw which print he meant. It was masterfully painted in the Japanese’s preferred style, depicting a series of mountains slowly going higher until it seemed that they wished to rival the heavens with a single branch of a plum tree painted in the lower left corner.

Mallory replied absently while she typed, her pupils becoming nothing more than a blur as she read her computer screen. “Yes. A friend of mine recommended it, thought I’d like a change. It’s more because she hates my taste in home décor, though.”
“I think the place looks lovely for an art dealer’s office.” Isandro wandered back over, leaning his hip on the edge of the desk as he read over her shoulder. “Not on the market yet?”

“Not in Europe. Smart person, whoever this thief is. They knew that if they tried to sell it anywhere in the nearest five countries that the cops would be called immediately.” Mallory pushed herself out of the chair. “I’ve a contact in the east. I’ll call them in about an hour and ask them to keep an eye out for it.”

“Why in an hour?” Adel asked, immediately suspicious.

“It’s when they’re home, Detective. And no, they don’t have a cell phone.”

Isandro clapped him on the shoulder in a manner that was really far too friendly for someone he’d just met. “Relax, Blackwood. You’re too paranoid.”

The glare that Adel gave him had made older and wiser men than him stop in their tracks. Isandro simply gave him a lazy smile, the brown eyes sparkling with rebellion. Adel was reminded that there was still an eight year difference between them, that Isandro was still young in terms of police service. Rebels didn’t last long in things like this.

“Isandro, behave. He’s your superior officer.” Mallory’s tone was warning and a little exasperated.

The Spaniard grinned at her. “Whatever the lady wishes.” He left the room with a tip of an invisible hat.

“I apologize for him.” Adel told her but she shook her head.

“It’s fine. I’ve known him since he began catching these art thieves. He’s not a bad person per se, just too full of fire to really belong in something so…what’s the word…confining as police business. It was nice meeting you, however. I’d say I hope to see you gain, but I have a feeling that the only reason you’d come to someone like me would be for business and I don’t want anymore thieves like these to find. It gets tiring sometimes.”

“I can honestly say that I appreciate where you’re coming from.” And he couldn’t say that to many people.

* * *

“You were very friendly with her.”
Isandro shrugged as he backed out of the parking space. “What can I say, I’m a friendly person.”
“Maybe, but she doesn’t seem like one. How long have you known her?”

“For the record, I don’t much appreciate being interrogated like this and I’ve known her for three years, since I did one of my earlier cases in Rome.”
Adel ignored the first part of the sentence. “How’d you meet her?”

“I know this might be difficult for old-timers like yourself to comprehend, but the Internet is a fantastic place to find people. Seriously, Google magic, friend.”

“I’m not an old timer. I know about the Internet.”

“That might’ve earned you a brownie point before this conversation.” Isandro slowed for the red light, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in agitation.

Adel wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was a little bewildered at the sudden change of mood in the younger man. Isandro had been all charm and smiles in the office, but as soon as he’d asked his first question, all that charm had rapidly changed to a simmering anger.

“Did I do something to upset you?”
The light changed to green. “Let’s think about this for a moment. It might hurt your brain but bear with me. I drive all the way down here on a request from my chief. He said that it would be a good opportunity and that I’d get to meet the ‘oh so great’ Detective Blackwood. Since I got here, you’ve treated me with nothing except distrust and disdain.” The car in front of them slowed when the light was still green and Isandro let out a string of low Spanish words that Adel had a feeling weren’t taught in kindergarten.

“You think I’ve behaved like that?”

“Yes, I do. I’ve worked hard to get here, Detective. At least if we can’t be partners, then let us respect each other.”

Adel sighed. The Spaniard was right, in a way. He’d let his preconceptions get in the way. “Agreed. Respect.”
The younger man visibly relaxed, the tension that had stiffened his shoulders letting them drop and his hands were no longer clenched around the steering wheel. His face betrayed nothing and Adel got the sudden thought that he would be good in poker.

“Where is this church anyhow?”
Adel snapped out of his thoughts. “What church?”
“St. Benedict’s. I need to see the scene of the crime. All thieves have their own way of doing things and sometimes it’ll tell you something about them.”

“Take a right at the next light.”

* * *

Isandro stood in front of the place where the painting had once been, eyes darting back and forth as thoughts flashed through the open face at a mile a minute.

“Find anything?”
“Well, if it was me that had stolen the painting, the best time would obviously be at night. Was there an alarm on this?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The priest was a small man, hair long since silvered, but the blue eyes were still sharp and intelligent. “This is a house of God. It’s His grace that keeps us all safe.”
“Sorry to say this, Father, but God’s grace didn’t protect your precious painting. But we are dealing with someone who can only have been in the business for so long.”

“What makes you say that?” Adel asked from his spot in the pews.

“Well, if we were dealing with a professional thief, we’d be seeing a forgery on the walls right now. It would give him more time to sell the original and get away with the money since no one would have discovered anything for a while.”
“And since this is an amateur, or close to it, that means-”

“That he makes mistakes.” Isandro finished. He reached into the pockets of his jeans and slipped on a pair of leather gloves.

Adel got to his feet. “What’re you thinking?”
The younger man didn’t reply, going to his knees and running his hands along the wooden molding along the wall. He gestured Adel closer and held out his hand. There was white powder all across his fingers. “It’s the debris from when he pulled the painting away.” Isandro stood, taking Adel’s hand and putting it where the painting used to be. “Feel all along there, then feel the rest of the wall. The paint’s thinner there. Meaning he didn’t bring any tools with him because the painting wasn’t bolted to the wall. He must’ve known that.”

Adel turned to the priest. “Father, did you see anyone unfamiliar hanging around here?”

“Plenty of people come and go in this church. I don’t know most of them.”

“Wrong question.” Adel amended. “Anyone suspicious?”

“Not particularly.”

“I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say that there aren’t any security cameras in there either, right?” The priest gave him a long look. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

A watch alarm went off and Isandro glanced at the detective. Adel switched off the alarm. “I promised my sister I’d have dinner with her tonight, but it looks like I’m going to have to cancel.”

“Don’t be a moron, Blackwood. I’ll drive us back, you can have your dinner with your sister and I’ll keep up the search and fill you in tomorrow.”
“Seems a bit unfair, if you ask me.”

“Then I think it’s a very good thing that no one asked you. Let’s get out of here so that we can both get some dinner. Father, thank you for all your…help.”

As they walked to the car, Adel asked, “Why is it so important for you that I have dinner with my sister?”

“You should always take time out for family. You should know that.”

“Why is that?”
“You seem like a very family-oriented man. And is she your younger sister?”
“She’s married.” Adel told him flatly.

“That’s always the case.” He sighed. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“She’s two years younger.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“How’s that interesting?”
“Not for any particular reason. It’s just interesting to me.”

And the younger man doesn’t offer anything more, just slips into the driver’s seat and turns the key and almost doesn’t wait for him to get in the car. Adel wonders what he did to warrant that reaction, but he remembers their earlier conversation—respectrespectrespect—and despite his curiosity, he says nothing.

When Adel gets to the little restaurant that his sister had discovered, he’s a little late, but the warm smile that she gives him is the most familiar thing he’s seen in years.

* * *

Isandro’s sitting reading through various reports when his cell phone rings. He picks it up absent-mindedly. “Hello?”

“Don’t sound so excited.” The accented voice was familiar and sardonic, but friendly all the same.

“Yes, Dhimari, because reading useless reports for the last hour and a half is sure to get me excited.” A short bark of laughter from the other end and Isandro can picture his best friend leaning back on his sofa, all pale skin and dark hair.

“Well, if you want to do me a favor, I can promise that it’s more fun than reading the useless reports.” Dhimari suggested.

“And what is this favor?”
“I need you to babysit Carolyn tomorrow. I have to meet with the lawyer tomorrow and I really don’t want her to be there.”

“Yeah, of course I’ll babysit. But does she really need a sitter? She’s seven.”

“Maybe not a sitter,” Dhimari’s voice was deceptively sweet. “But she needs her uncle there, doesn’t she?”
“I already said I’ll do it. Relax.” Isandro’s voice softened. “How many more times are you going to have to do this? “

Dhimari let tiredness seep into his voice. “I’ve no idea. But Carolyn’s too smart for her own good. I don’t think I can hide it from her.”
“Then don’t. You’re already keeping custody, right? If you don’t tell her this now, it’ll make it hard for her to trust you in the future.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, though I appreciate it.”

“I can tell her if you want.” Isandro offered. They were almost always doing each others dirty work.

“No, no. I’ll be fine doing it.”

“If you’re going to lie, at least try and put some effort into it.”

But Dhimari had never been able to lie to the Spanish man. Not since the first time they met six years ago in Cairo.

* * *

Adel strode into his office on time the next morning and wasn’t surprised to find that a certain Mr. Morales wasn’t there. But that was to be expected. Isandro didn’t seem like a man who was on time a lot.

But an hour late was pushing it.

Adel found himself waiting, fingers drumming on the desk, when he called him. Please enjoy the music while your party is reached. The music should never have left the elevator.

“’Ello?”

“Where are you, Morales?”

“Morning to you too, Detective.”

“Good morning.” Adel amended. “Now, where are you? You’re an hour late?”

“Aw, damn. I meant to call. I can’t come in today. Personal emergency.”
“What’s the emergency?”
“I got a call that said I have to babysit my niece.”

“…That’s it?”
The heat of anger colored the accented voice. “Perhaps younger family members don’t mean much to you, but they do to me.”

“What’s the address where you are?” Isandro seemed to him like he’d skipped out on classes as a student and didn’t get caught.

* * *

A strong series of knocks split the otherwise quiet air and Isandro looked at his ‘niece’. They weren’t blood related, but that didn’t matter much. “Carolyn, can you get the door. Check first.”
She rolled her eyes, not needing to remark that she’d heard him say it a hundred times. The girl was more like her father than she knew. She stood on her toes to see through the lower peephole, usually meant for handicaps.

“It’s an indiano.” She reported.

“Let him through, sweetheart. He’s a friend of mine.”

* * *

Adel wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the door opened cautiously, but a small child wasn’t it. She was cute, he supposed. Black curls that someone had apparently attempted to tame with wide sapphire eyes and skin that had a hint of brown to it. She was wearing a bright green dress that had a picture of one of the Disney princesses, the mermaid, on it. Adel had never been much of a fan of Disney.

And two arms bent to pick her up and Adel looked up to see Isandro. “You weren’t joking.”
“If I was joking, I doubt you’d find it funny, Detective. We both have very different senses of humor.”

“So this is your niece?”
A proud smile spread across his cheeks. “Yup. This is Carolyn. Sweetheart, this is Detective Blackwood. He’s someone I work with.”
“To catch bad guys?”
“That’s right.”
“What do you need him for? You’re good at what you do?”

A laugh bubbled from Isandro’s lips at the look on Adel’s face. “We’re partners, Carol. We work together. We’re both good at different things. We need each other to catch the bad guys.”
Carolyn gave the both of them a look that seemed more fitting on someone double her age. “If you say so.” Isandro set her down and she moved back into the apartment.

“Are you sure she’s your niece? You look nothing alike.”

“Her father and I are stepbrothers. Obviously, she takes after him.”

“You’ve had your influence on her, I see.”
A flash of a bright smile. “I can’t help it. It’s part of my natural charm.”

Adel shook his head. “Whatever you say, Morales. I expect you back at work tomorrow.”