Page 104 of Three Steps Behind

George climbed in the back seat, and Deck moved in beside him. “We just want to talk to you,” he said.

“You don’t understand.” Beads of sweat dotted his brow. “I talk, and I’m as dead as Nick.”

“You know who killed Nick, don’t you?” he pressed.

George swallowed, his hands shaking. “You’re not getting anything else out of me.”

“No problem. I’m sure local cops will be by soon, and we can explain how Nick wired you two hundred thousand dollars mere weeks before Taylor Jackson died.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with her death.”

“What about your wife’s?”

George blanched.

George paced his living room after they’d returned to his house. Deck remained standing while Harper took a seat in one of the armchairs.

“Who killed Nick?” Deck asked.

George smoothed what little hair he had atop his head. “I can’t tell you. Can’t tell you anything, so leave me alone.”

He took a different tack. “Why was Nick killed?”

“Because he screwed up.”

“How so?”

“He made bad moves, and it brought you to him, along with that cop.”

“So Nick killed his wife?” He wanted to hear the truth.

“Yes. Okay. Yes,” George spouted out.

Harper crossed her legs. “Just like you killed yours.”

George remained silent, which gave Deckard all the answer he needed, but someone was supplying the poison. Was that who he was so afraid of?

“How do you like your pharmaceutical job?” Harper asked. “Cook up a lot of things in your lab, do you?”

George stopped pacing and sank down on the couch. “It’s not what you think.”

“What do we think?” Deck moved to join George on the burgundy couch.

“That I made the poison. I didn’t.”

“Come on, man. You really expect us to believe that? You have the perfect job to concoct the poisonous plant and accelerator.”

“Yeah.” George’s leg bounced in a fast-paced rhythm. “Well, so does he.”

“He, who?” Harper asked, leaning forward.

“Uh-huh. I’m done talking. You’ve probably already got me killed.”

“By Hank Weathers or Randolph Palmer?”

George’s eyes widened as his jaw clamped. “How”—he grunted the words—“do you know about them?”

“We know about the frat. All the wives killed by a poisonous flower.” That part Deck was bluffing on. They didn’t know for certain, but it’s what made sense. “Except the wife Randolph lost in a car accident.”