The alley outside *Anna's Place* was dimly lit, the hum of the city a distant murmur as Simon leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed. Detective Jessica Miller stood a few feet away, her posture rigid, her eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting an ambush.
"Alright, Detective," Simon said, his tone casual but edged with curiosity. "You've dragged me out here. What's this *information* that couldn't wait?"
Jessica turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "Two nights ago, a high-profile art dealer was found dead in his penthouse. Stabbed. His security system was disabled, and the only fingerprints at the scene… were yours."
Simon's smirk faded. "That's impossible. I've never even heard of the guy."
"That's what I thought," Jessica replied coolly. "Until I dug deeper. The victim, Marcus Voss, had ties to a smuggling ring that's been moving stolen artifacts across Europe. Sound familiar?"
Simon stiffened. Years ago, he'd been entangled in the underground art trade—a chapter of his life he'd tried to bury. "You think I'd be stupid enough to leave fingerprints at a murder scene? If I wanted someone dead, Detective, you'd never find the body."
Jessica stepped closer, her voice dropping. "I don't think you did it. But someone wants me to *believe* you did. And they're good. The evidence is airtight—surveillance footage, witnesses placing you near the scene, even a financial trail linking you to Voss."
Simon's mind raced. *A setup this elaborate… Who the hell have I pissed off?* "Why are you telling me this? You could've just arrested me."
Jessica's gaze hardened. "Because this isn't about you. Voss was about to turn state's evidence on his partners. His death silences him, and framing you ties up loose ends. But here's the catch—whoever did this *knew* about your past. They knew I'd dig it up. They're playing both of us."
Before Simon could respond, the sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the alley. A bullet ricocheted off the wall inches from his head. Jessica yanked him behind a dumpster as another shot rang out, shattering a window above them.
"Stay down!" Jessica hissed, drawing her service weapon.
Simon peered around the edge, spotting a figure in a black hoodie fleeing toward a waiting car. "Go, go, go!" the shooter yelled to the driver. The vehicle screeched away before Jessica could get a clear shot.
Simon stood, dusting off his jacket. "Well, that was subtle. Friends of yours?"
Jessica holstered her gun, her jaw tight. "They weren't aiming to kill. They wanted to send a message."
"*'Back off?'*" Simon guessed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Original."
Jessica ignored him, pulling out her phone. "I'll call this in. But if we're going to find out who's behind this, we need to work together. *Temporarily.*"
Simon raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me to team up with the law? That's a first."
"I'm not asking," Jessica snapped. "I'm giving you a choice: help me unravel this, or spend the rest of your life in prison for a murder you didn't commit. Your call."
Simon studied her face, searching for any hint of deception. But Jessica's resolve was unwavering. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. But I have conditions. No handcuffs, no babysitters, and you don't get to judge my methods."
Jessica's lips twitched—almost a smile. "Deal. But if you double-cross me, I'll make sure your cellmate is a fan of your *charm.*"
As they walked back into the bar, Adam and Anna looked up, their faces tense. "What the hell was that?" Adam demanded.
Simon grabbed his abandoned drink and downed it in one gulp. "Change of plans, Adam. The detective and I are going into business together."
Adam paled. "You're *what?*"
Jessica crossed her arms. "We're tracking down whoever framed him. And we start tonight."
Simon glanced at Jessica, a flicker of respect in his eyes. "First stop: Marcus Voss's penthouse. If someone planted evidence there, they left a trail. And I know how to find it."
Jessica nodded. "Lead the way."
As they left the bar, Simon couldn't shake the feeling that the game had just gotten far more dangerous. But for the first time in years, he wasn't playing alone.
To Be Continued…