Fire Dance

“Just before your friend Andy came back here,” Alturis said, meticulously peeling an apple with the butcher knife he'd found in her kitchen drawer, “he shot and killed someone.  Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

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

Meg just looked at him.

“Apparently your Andy had never killed someone before," Alturis continued; his tone suggested that he found this detail amusing, even endearing.  "It disturbed him.  So he took a leave of absence and came here.  Which is where we found him.  And you,” Alturis added, as if it were impolite not to 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.