What cannot be mended

“Just before your friend Andy came back here,” Alturis said, peeling an apple with meticulous attention, “he shot and killed someone.  Did he tell you that?”

            “No," Meg answered through gritted teeth, "he didn't."

            “Well he did.  Even more unfortunate, that person happened to be my brother.”

            Meg just looked at him.

           Alturis paused to cut the apple into slices.  Once he finished this, he went on, “Apparently your Andy had never killed someone before.  It disturbed him.  So he took a leave of absence and retreated to his family home.  Which is where we found him.  And you,” Alturis added graciously, as if it were impolite to not mention her place in his diabolical scheme.  “Bad information led me to—what was their name?—the Gergens or the Bourbons or whoever.  It’s hard to find good help nowadays.”

            “I wouldn't know," Meg returned, trying to block out the memory of the Bergen's dead bodies lying in their living room.  "I'm not in the market for henchmen.”

            “And a good thing for you, too.”

            “But that doesn't explain what you want with me.”

            “Doesn't it?” Alturis asked--and smiling, he popped an apple slice into his mouth.