“They’ll—they’ll kill?—”
Lorenzo sighs. He stands. He looks down at the wheelman the way you look at a dog that won’t sit, then glances at me.
“Out of curiosity, boss. Who’s the lucky guy in there?”
He tips his chin toward the hallway.
I take a moment with it.
“Not anybody you’d know.”
“Hm.”
“Not the kind they send when they want something explained. Different bracket.”
“So, specialty work.”
“He called himself an investigator on the way in.” I don’t look at the wheelman. “Whoever signed off on him knew what they were signing off on.”
“Which means?”
“Which means whoever sent him doesn’t get to keep breathing about it.”
“Music to my ears.” Lorenzo crouches down again. “You hear that, buddy? Your boss is a dead man. So, you might as well help us out here.”
The man chokes on a sob.
“Last chance,” I warn.
I glare at him while he tries to speak.
The list of suspects runs through my mind before I want it to. Victor Moreno. He had her address—knew it the night of the gala, when he handed her his card and put her in his car. I almost forgot that he had it. Her location is probably not a secret to Nico either; Nico’s people have already been to the office once. If it’s Victor, the whole shape of this changes. The Moreno family is not an enemy I get to settle in one night, with one body, on one rug. If it’s Nico, that’s a different kind of impossible. He’s still the heir.
Or maybe it could be?—
“Antonio.” He gasps it. “Antonio Martinez. Antonio sent us. H-he wanted dirt on you. Said the girl was close to you. Said she’d know—said if we leaned on her she’d give him something he could use, or she’d disappear and you’d come asking, and either way he got?—”
Antonio.
A few hours ago he was in my office. Forty minutes after, I split his lip. He drove home from that meeting and made a call that sent two men to Bea’s apartment to either turn her or kill her, or both.
A small, clean click. The shape of a decision finishing itself.
I straighten up.
Lorenzo glances at me. Then at the man. Then back at me. He sees what’s already settled.
“—I’m just a driver, I’m just adriver. Antonio said I just had to wait, I didn’t even?—”
I raise the Glock.
“Wait—wait, please,please?—”
The shot goes through the bridge of his nose and into Bea’s wall. He drops onto his side mid-sentence. The room goes very quiet again, except for the radiator, which keeps ticking like nothing has changed.
Lorenzo whistles low through his teeth.
“Two now.” He looks toward the bathroom, then back at the body on the rug. “Two corpses in one apartment in one night. You’re really treating yourself, boss.”
