It was just under an hour by the time Alec hammered on Sergeant Will Grant’s door. Will lived in some new flats off Piccadilly, of all places. The man never spoke about coming from money or having any sort of private income—why should he, Alec supposed—but it was clear there was something more than a police detective’s weekly wage paying these sorts of bills.
Lew had been finishing up whatever he’d gone in to the newspaper to do when Alec went to collect him. McGovern still had him working on the upcoming exposé of the Florish Gang, Alec thought. They had a sort of gentleman’s agreement that if what Lew was investigating for the paper came too close to Alec’s professional interests, they pretended the topic didn’t exist. They’d left his Triumph at the paper and come straight to Piccadilly
