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“Hell no. From what I’ve heard, once they’ve got your in their sights…” He pretended to line up a long-range rifle scope and pulled an imaginary trigger.
“Gee, that’s reassuring.”
He tugged his phone from his jacket pocket. “I’ll call now to ease both our minds.” He motioned to the front door. “From the porch, of course.”
I resisted the desire to follow him and eavesdrop. I trusted Gunther, insofar as you could trust an assassin.
I busied myself in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of iced tea. There was no sign of Ray or Nana Pratt. For once, I wouldn’t mind if they broke the rules. I could use the distraction.
Gunther finally returned, sliding into the room on the soles of his boots with his usual dramatic flair. “Charles is the correct answer.”
“Then Cillian didn’t know Charles was dead?” I handed him a glass of iced tea.
He peered at the brown liquid. “Is this unsweetened? I don’t do sugar.”
“Only lemon.”
“Perfect.” He sipped it carefully, as though not entirely sure my response was truthful. “He didn’t know about Charles. Neither did Gina. She wanted to know if he had any next of kin to pay the bill.”
“She sounds delightful. Did you tell her about Cillian?”
“I said he might be out of commission for a few days and that she might want to cancel his appointments.”
“Did she ask for any details?”
He shook his head. “Nor did I offer any. His current condition is a hazard of the job. She knows that.”
“Did she say what Charles planned to do with the information he received?”
Gun snickered. “I was right. He planned to blackmail you into leaving town.”
“Knowing that, you don’t think it’s suspicious that Charles is dead?”
Gun looked taken aback. “Are you asking if I think you had anything to do with Diamond’s death?”
“The timing isn’t ideal, and people are already speculating.”
He peered at me with his purple-lined eyes. “Do you want me to think you’re responsible?”
“No.”
Gun placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “You’re as cold as your well-refrigerated iced tea, sweetie, but you’re not a killer. Believe me. It takes one to know one.”
I glanced in the direction of the living room. “Do you think he’ll try again?”
“Not if he has any sense, and certainly not when he finds out Charles is dead.” Gunther’s gaze skated to the doorway. “What exactly did you do to him?”
“Nothing permanent.” The nightmare already belonged to him; I simply dialed it up a few notches to render him unconscious.
“Yes, you’ve made that clear. Still doesn’t answer the question.”
“I knocked him unconscious. What more do you need to know?” It had been risky to use my powers on Cillian. Usually, I could scare them into silence. Sooner or later, though, somebody would feel brave enough to reveal what I’d done to them—if they were unlucky enough to remember.
Gun swilled his iced tea. “I see. Between you and Kane, it’s like secrets galore.”
I perked up, happy to be out of the spotlight. “Kane does seem to have secrets, doesn’t he?”
“Absolutely. You don’t get to be mysterious by oversharing. Tends to ruin the vibe.”
