“Just before
your friend Andy came up here,” Alturis said, peeling an apple with meticulous
attention, “he shot and killed someone.
Did he tell you that?”
Meg shook her head.
“Well
he did,” Alturis answered. His tone was
no longer light. “Even more
unfortunate,” he went on, “that person happened to be my brother.”
Meg
just looked at him.
“Apparently
your Andy had never killed someone before.
It disturbed him. So he took a
leave of absence and came here. 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. 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?” he asked, smiling again.
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