Look out for the <>!

I was in the family room again early the next day, looking at the photos and the information that I have gotten the previous day. Even though I had read through all of the information three different times, I still felt like I was missing something. 

I had a feeling that the frame had to be important so I was focusing on this. I had heard about this story one other time about how sometimes people would hide keys or notes in the frames of pictures. It was owned at one time by a Russian prince then to a powerful family in Germany. There had to be something in that frame because the actually painting wasn't worth dying over. 

I just needed to find out what was the key in the frame. Maybe then I could figure out who did this crime. I needed to get back on the streets again and ask around. The people there would know more than I did. But everyone thought I was dead or retired. This was going to be fun to convince them I wasn't. I started to pack up the papers on the floor not willing to waste any more time and stopped when I heard a floor board creak behind me.

I turned to see Sherlock in his black robe, his black curly hair was a mess on top of his head. He just woke up.

"Good morning sunshine," I said sarcastically, knowing he wasn't a morning person. I finished picking up the papers and put them on the coffee table for safe keeping.

"You're going to each out to your old life." 

I nodded at him. I didn't have a choice. I needed more answers and there was only so much I could get from papers. "I need to ask around the streets about some things." 

<>

"You'll get some attention again." The last time people knew where I was, they killed family. He was not keen on the idea of letting me show myself anytime soon. Lestrade would not be happy to know that I was digging into my white-collar life again, even if it was just for a case. 

I shrugged at him as I tried to play it off as if this was nothing to be worried about. "Yeah. Everyone thinks I'm dead or retired, I figure better late than never to come out of the shadows. They will have more answers than these books do."

"Ok, make sure Lestrade doesn't find out," he said then turned his back towards me and walked back into his room.

"Sure thing." I got up from the floor and grabbed some war bonds that I made last week while Sherlock was out on a case without me. If I was digging into my old life, I might as well make a little bit of cash in the process. I knew just where to selling them. With about 100 quid in my pocket, I put on my blue sandals that matched my light blue V neck and went out the door.

Before I knew it, I was walking down a busy street in London. Most streets in London during this time of season were full of street venders willing to buy my products. The sun was shining, and I couldn't help but smile. Everyone was in short shorts and shades. I just loved the summer. Everything seemed to be so bright and cheerful during this time.

I heard a voice a little up the way saying, "This would look lovely on you my dear. It's only 30 pounds."

It took me a minute to processes that voice, but I knew that voice anywhere. That was Walter. I frowned, I didn't hear that he was coming down. I wanted to know how long was he staying. "Now I thought you had given up this type of job." I said and smiled as I walked up to him. He was wearing a button up blue shirt with a white color. He was dressed way too smart for a street vender. It looked like he didn't fit in.

"I didn't like the bank business. It was a bore." 

"And Ameila was fine with this?" I said as I raised my eyebrows up in surprise. She was always the one that hated this line of work the most.

"She was the one who suggested and wanted to leave Ireland in the first place," he said and gave a little chuckle as if he found it amusing. "We had no future there."

I nodded at him. I could relate. "And how long have you been here?" I asked, hurt that he didn't reach out to me. 

"Oh about three weeks."

"Do you like it here?"

"Love it." 

I watched him shift his weight on his feet as he eyes darted to me then the ground. Something was off about him, but I figured he just felt guilty about not calling. "Nice and when where you going to get in touch with me?" 

He frowned as he looked at the ground as he kicked a little stone by his feet. "I didn't want to cause you trouble, after all I did see you with Scotland Yard. I figure you would find us one way or another. What brings you here?" 

"I have some of these," I said and pulled out one of the bonds I made.

He took it and looked at it very closely. "This is good. If I didn't know you any better, I would say they are real. You could sell this, 1,100 quid easy," he said to me and handed it back to me.

"I need some of these sold. Think you could do it?" I asked, knowing I couldn't get caught with my hand dirty. 

"Sure. But why? You have a good job with Scotland Yard that pays well. You're just breaking all the rules you are trying to keep in place."

"I have my reasons." I shrugged to him then pulled out another two bonds out of my pocket.

"I'll give you 2,000 for the three."

"Because you're a friend I'll accept," I smiled as I gave the bonds to him, and he gave me money in return. "I'll be back in a couple days see if you get anything. And oh Walter, I want the names of who buys and who is interested. Don't be afraid to say Rori Anderson made them." I knew this would get me into the white-collar world as fast as I could. 

"You got it Maire." 

"You're a good man." I gave him a pat on the shoulder then walked down the road.

It was nice to see Walter, he was one of the only people that I could trust. He would be useful in this case. Although I did wonder what really made him want to move. It didn't seem like Ameila to pick up and leave. There was something not kosher about Walter but I shrugged it off, maybe he was just nervous.   

I frowned as I looked at the sun in the sky. I only had half the day left and I still needed to go to one more stall vender and sell another two or three of my bonds. 

I walked down another crowed street and passed a man wearing knock off ray bans selling fake Burberry purses on the side of the road. He smiled at me and I gave him a smile back. He was trying too hard, he wasn't a real white collar.

I walked down a little more and ran across a homeless man shaking a tin around full of change. I looked at his rough black beard and then at his roughed up designer shoes.

I slowly started to recognize him. I hadn't seen him in a few years. I thought he retired. "Ripping off the system once again? Aren't you a millionaire already?" 

He looked up at me with a smile. "Keep it down Rori, people might hear you. Long time no see. What bring you to these parts?" he asked as got up from the ground.

"These," I said as I pulled out a bond from my pocket.

He took it and looked over it closely. "Is this real?" he asked with amazement.

That was nice to know he thought it was real. That's when I knew I did a good job. "It's as real as it gets. I'm back on the market."

"How much do you want for this?"

"800."

"No too much." He shook his head.

"That's as low as I'm going."

"700?" 

I took back the bond and frowned at him. "I'm wasting my time," I said and started to walk away knowing that he would cave as soon as I took a couple steps. He was always a softly for a good deal.

"No please! I'll give you 800," he shouted out to me.

I surpassed a smile. Too Easy. I turned to face him and got out a bond. "Sure thing. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

I took the money and stuffed it into my pocket and with that I left the street to get home, happy with what I had accomplished. As I was just about to take the Tube back my phone buzzed. I pulled it out and saw a message from Sherlock saying that he wanted to meet up at a local coffee shop close to where I was now. I sighed loudly as if he could hear and turned on my heals and walk back from where I came from.