Текст книги "Death of a Pirate King "

Автор книги: Josh lanyon

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Chapter Twenty-Three

“You’re not drinking?” Paul inquired.

“Not at the moment,” I said.

A private smile tugged the corner of his sensual mouth.

We were sitting at Café Del Rey at a table looking out over the marina. Yachts bobbed gently in the midnight blue water. A few forlorn stars blinked in the midnight blue sky. A young woman with a midwestern accent approached our table and asked for Paul’s autograph. He signed the little brochure for Starline Tours she was carrying. “You see,” he told her. “There are movie stars everywhere you look in California.”

She laughed delightedly, and they chatted a few minutes more. He was infallibly gracious.

“I admit I was a little surprised to get your phone call,” Paul said, turning back to me without missing a beat. “Not that it isn’t always a pleasure.” His eyes seemed bright with that inner mirth. I wondered yet again what Jake saw in him. Yes, I thought he was beautiful, but it was such a strange, hazardous beauty. A little on the exotic side for Jake, I would have thought. But maybe I wanted to think that.

I hadn’t heard from Jake since Friday evening when he’d fled my place like a creature of the night with a whole village of torch-wielding fanatics on his tail. I hadn’t heard anything from anyone. No one had tried to arrest me or even interrogate me. It was Saturday evening now.

The last time I’d phoned the hospital was that afternoon. Al January’s condition was reported critical but stable.

“Were you surprised?” I asked. “I can’t imagine a lot surprises you.”

“You,” he said – and it was straight out of one of his films. “You were a surprise.”

I sputtered into my water, and his fawn-colored eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I’m sorry,” I said, although I clearly wasn’t. “Actually, what I was sort of wondering was what you wanted me to do next.”

The fawn-colored eyebrows drew together. “What I…?”

“Well, the case isn’t over. What should my next move be?”

“Your next…?” He let that trail, adding thoughtfully, “I suppose the case isn’t over. Interesting.” He suddenly chuckled. “Well, I shall have to consult the stars.” He winked. “The other stars. Did you know I had gypsy blood?”

“I did not know that.”

“On my maternal grandmother’s side.” He held out his hand, palm up. “I’ll read your fortune.”

“Another time.”

“Come on.” He was amused by my reluctance.

“Shouldn’t I cross your palm with silver?”

He shrugged. “We’re friends. No charge.” He took my hand in his, gently turning it heel up.

“Here’s your lifeline.” He traced a line with his thumbnail halfway down my palm and stopped. “Oh dear.” He quirked his eyebrows and gave me a wry, commiserating look.

I tried to jerk my hand away, but he laughed.

“I’m teasing you, dear boy. You have a perfectly ordinary lifeline. Your loveline, on the other hand –” He shook his head, his eyes full of wicked amusement, and let my hand go.

I reached for my glass, the condensation chill on my palm – washing away the feel of his fingers, washing away whatever fate he pretended to see in the lines of my hand. I swallowed ice water, set the glass down.

“You know Nina’s been released? They can’t seem to figure out how she got the poison into Porter’s glass.”

“Yes, I’d heard,” he said indifferently. He lifted his cocktail – something called an Admiral’s Tea. He did like those sweet, flavored drinks. “I suppose it will be Ally next.”

“You suppose what will be Ally?”

His eyes locked on mine. “I suppose the police are looking at her closely as a possible suspect.”

“Oh!” I chuckled. “I thought you meant…well, people around you have been dropping at an alarming rate.”

He stared at me.

I said gravely, “You know about the attack on Al January, of course.”

“Of course.” He continued to stare at me. “A tragedy.”

“Hopefully not,” I said. “Hopefully he’ll pull through.”

He licked his lips.

I smiled confidingly, “Granted, your original interest in this investigation was the same as mine. Mostly. We neither of us wanted to be suspects in a murder investigation –”

“And to that end, you succeeded beautifully,” Paul assured me. “Neither of us are suspects any longer.”

“Aren’t we?” I arched my brows, mirroring his own elegant surprise. “But suppose the police don’t arrest Ally? Suppose they look elsewhere? There’s only you, me, and Valarie left. Al getting clobbered pretty much puts him out of the running.”

“The attack on Al might not have anything to do with Porter’s death. He told me once they have a great deal of crime in that neighborhood.”

“Jake may successfully be redirecting that investigation, but I don’t think there’s much doubt that the attack on Al was connected to Porter’s death.”

He sipped his drink and said nothing.

“Jake’s influence will only stretch so far,” I said. “Someone is going to be arrested and eventually tried for Porter’s murder. The LAPD take a very dim view of homicide – even among the rich and famous.”

He gave me another of those long, bright looks.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “This isn’t going to go away on its own. In fact…yes, this is rather perfect timing. I’m having a small get-together on the Pirate’s Gambit tomorrow. Just a few friends from the party. Why don’t you join us? You’ll be able to do what you do so well. Snoop.”

“Is that what I do so well?” I mocked. “I was sure Jake would give me higher marks for…well…other things.”

His eyes locked on mine, and they were glacial blue. Then he smiled. “Tens all across the board, I assure you. I’m planning to seduce you myself.”

“I’m planning to let you,” I said. “But maybe tomorrow we can chat some more about getting this movie made from Murder Will Out.”

He said slowly, “You know, Adrien, that might not be so easy now. Porter was our financial backer and Al was writing the script…”

“Oh, I can write the script,” I assured him blithely. “And I’m sure you’ll come up with the money from somewhere.” I raised my brows at the expression that fleeted across his face. “No?”

He smiled – and I blinked at the radiance of shining eyes and all those teeth.

“Oh, yes,” Paul said. “I’ll come up with whatever is necessary.”

* * * * *

When I got back to the Cloak and Dagger, I found the cat dying outside the side entrance.

I nearly stepped on him – it was dark and I was preoccupied with my own thoughts. Having arranged your own murder is not a comfortable feeling.

There was a feeble meow, and I saw the pale glimmer of his form right before I put down my boot.

I knelt and I could see in the wan security lights that its skinny frame was streaked with dark, its narrow flanks moving quickly up and down. It looked flat – like a cartoon cat after it’s been run over.

I whispered, “What happened to you?”

Not that I was expecting an answer, but it gave another of those pained meows.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Didn’t I tell you?” I informed it. I rose, went inside, and ran upstairs. The timing could hardly be worse if the damned cat had planned it. I grabbed a towel from the cupboard, hurried back downstairs, and stopped behind the counter long enough to look up the address of the nearest emergency animal clinic.

There was a place on Colorado Boulevard that was supposed to be open from six in the evening to eight in the morning. I rang them; they were still in business and accepting customers. I thanked them and went outside to see whether the customer was still alive.

He was breathing, which is always a good sign.

As gently as I could I picked him up, placed him on the towel, wrapped it around him, and put him in my car. I drove to the emergency clinic, the cat purring on the seat beside me.

“What’s his name?” the young man at the front desk asked as my towel and cat were whisked to a back room.

“Uh…John Tomkins,” I said.

“That’s different,” the receptionist said, writing it down.

“He was a pirate,” I said. “I mean Tomkins. I don’t know about the cat. Would you have any idea how long this might take?” I needed to call Jake before it got too late.

He shook his head, his expression politely sympathetic.

I sat down to wait, picking up a battered copy of Cat Fancy. Just the name… I was not – had never considered myself – a cat person. And I didn’t plan on starting now. Yet here I was, watching the clock and reading an article on nutrition for young cats.

After about ten minutes, the vet came out. “It looks like a dog got hold of him.”

I couldn’t imagine where Tompkins found a dog to tangle with. “Is he…uh?”

He waited.

I gestured, which I guess was supposed to signify animation – or maybe what the hell was I supposed to do next.

“He’s alive,” the vet supplied – and I was astonished at the relief I felt. Mostly, I told myself, because I didn’t want to hear what Natalie would have to say about the damned cat getting itself mauled.

The relief vanished in the wake of a nine hundred dollar bill for testing, X-rays, stitches, etc. The only good news was they were going to keep Mr. Tomkins overnight, so I wouldn’t be tempted to strangle him.

I took my bloodstained towel and my bloodstained credit card back, bade them good night, and returned to Cloak and Dagger.

By then it was eleven thirty, which was way too late to be calling married friends at home, but I didn’t have a choice.

I rang Jake up on his cell. It went straight to message.

I said, “Can you call me when you get this? It’s…” A matter of life and death? I didn’t want to be melodramatic, but it sort of was. And no sort of about it. “Urgent,” I compromised.

I clicked off, went back downstairs to check the security gate and all the locks – jeering my own unease. Why did I keep putting myself in these situations when they obviously scared the hell out of me?

As I returned upstairs the phone was ringing. I picked it up.

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked. His voice was sleep-roughened, but he sounded alert.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’ve set myself up to go sailing with Paul Kane tomorrow. I’m pretty sure he’s going to try to kill me.”

There was a very long silence, and then Jake said, “He’ll have to take a number.”

“Look…” And then I couldn’t think of what to say to him. I knew what I was asking – I’d known before I ever tried to set myself up as bait – and I knew it might just be too much to ask of anyone.

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Jake said, and I could hear the fury, although he kept his voice low.

“Murder? No, I couldn’t leave murder alone, Jake. And I’ll tell you what: I don’t know how safe it would have been for me to leave it alone, because your boyfriend has settled on murder as the quickest and easiest way to resolve his problems.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine. If I’m wrong, I’ll just go for a pleasant sail and come back slightly drunk and slightly sunburned. But if I’m right –”

“You think he’s going to attack you in broad daylight? There’s a crew on board, for chrissake.”

“There was a house full of people at that party in Laurel Canyon. I don’t think crowds intimidate him. And I don’t think he’s planning to shoot me. He’s going to need it to look like another accident. He’ll try to shove me overboard or push me down the stairs or something. Put something in my drink maybe.”

Jake said in choked tones, “That’s nearly as brilliant as your plan. What is your plan, by the way? Besides getting yourself killed?”

“It’s the simplest thing in the world. You come too. And you stop him from killing me. And then you arrest him.”

“On attempted murder? How the fuck does –” He abruptly lowered his voice. “Even if we get him on trying to take you out, how does that prove anything else?”

“Why would he try and kill me if it wasn’t because –”

“I can think of a dozen reasons,” Jake said.

“That hurts,” I said after a pause. He was joking – sort of – and that had to be a good sign, right? I added, “Anyway, I plan to wear a wire. I bought some gear at Radio Shack –” I stopped. He was laughing.

It was one of those wheezy, near-silent Muttley laughs. When he managed to speak, he sounded slightly hysterical. “You’re insane,” he said. “How did I never notice this about you before?”

“I’m not insane. This is very simple, very straightforward. Provided he doesn’t kill me, it’s foolproof.”

He said very quietly, “Listen to me carefully. Don’t get on that fucking boat tomorrow. I am not going to back you up on this. I am not going to let you manipulate me any more than I am going to let Paul manipulate me. You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do here?”

Now that threw me. Talk about ego-centric. “You think this is all about getting you to come out?”

“That’s what you’re asking of me. And you know – you know – I cannot do this. I will not do this.”

“You’d rather that he got away with murder?”

“He didn’t kill anyone!”

In the wake of that cry we were both silent.

I heard him cover the receiver and speak to someone, then he came back on the line. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk about this later. Don’t – I repeat – don’t get on that boat. Don’t do anything stupid. Do you understand?”

And I did. And I believed him.

“Jake…” I wasn’t sure how to say it. “I’ve set something in motion now that I can’t stop. He’s going to come after me, and it would be better if I could control the circumstances of it.”

“You think a boat in the middle of the ocean is controlling the circumstances?” His voice shook both with anger and something not so easily identified. “You just told me your heart is worse, and you pull this stunt. Are you out of your goddamned mind?”

By now it was clearly a rhetorical question.

I said, trying for patience, “This way I know where and I know when he’s going to try. I won’t have that opportunity again. I won’t have any control over it after tomorrow. And if I don’t show up, he’ll know that I know –”

He cut me off, and I almost didn’t recognize that low voice as Jake’s. “I know you’re trying to do the right thing. I know this is partly my fault for letting Paul bring you into this. But I am asking you…” His voice dropped lower. “I am begging you, Adrien. Don’t do this. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you – but don’t ask this. I can’t help you this time.”

“There isn’t anyone else I can ask, Jake.”

The click of the receiver was soft but definite against my ear.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Are you really intending not to drink or eat anything this entire trip?” Paul asked lazily.

It was just after nine o’clock in the morning, and we were sailing in open water. The fog was beginning to burn off. It was going to be a beautiful day, but it was chilly, the ocean smelling of salt and rain and things down deep below the restless green water. Paul and I sat on the open deck of the Pirate’s Gambit. A brunch tray sat on the table between us and it was enticingly arranged with plates. There was something called baked omelet roll – ham and cheese and mushroom – fresh fruit, muffins. I was more tempted by the pot of hot coffee.

“I’ll probably have something later,” I said.

He smiled. “I would have to be pretty stupid to poison you aboard my own boat.”

“Yes, you would,” I agreed, and he chuckled.

We were by ourselves. When I had arrived at the marina Paul told me he had canceled the party.

“You obviously have something on your mind,” he’d said. “This way we can chat undisturbed.”

But we hadn’t chatted. We’d put out to sea – and I was not particularly reassured by the sight of Paul’s captain taking the helm. I’d taken what precautions I could. I’d talked to Guy – and if possible he was even more disgusted and furious with me than Jake. I’d written down my detailed theory on why I believed Porter Jones had been killed – heck, I’d written down everything I could think of that might help prosecute Kane if things went wrong – and I’d mailed it off that morning to Mr. Gracen to be opened in the event of my death.

Of course just receiving a communication like that was liable to result in dear old Mr. Gracen popping off this earthly plane, but that couldn’t be helped. If I wasn’t successful, if Kane was stupid enough – desperate enough – to try to kill me after I explained these precautions, then at least I wanted to know that LAPD would have sufficient cause to reinvestigate Langley Hawthorne’s death. Not to mention my own.

But I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

And certainly Paul had been easy and charming for the half hour or so we had been together, chatting pleasantly while he enjoyed his breakfast.

But at last he finished eating, brushed the crumbs from his muffin fastidiously from his hands, shoved the plate aside, and studied me with those bright, amused eyes.

“You know, I really don’t believe that you’re out here planning to try a spot of blackmail.” His mouth twitched. “I have to say, though, you’d be quite good at acting yourself. That bit in the café last night was brilliant.” He mimicked, “I can write my own screenplay!” He shook his head. “What a turn for comedy you have.”

I have to admit I wasn’t quite expecting this relaxed frankness. I said cautiously, “If you don’t think I’m trying to blackmail you, what do you think I’m doing out here?”

“Besides having seen one too many detective films? I think you want answers. I think you’re insatiably curious. And I don’t mind answering your questions. You won’t be able to prove any of this. There is no proof. Now. And I like you, Adrien.” He arched an elegant eyebrow. “I like you a good deal.”

Oddly enough, that was the first scary thing he’d said. It was like finding a cobra curled up in the foot of your sleeping bag. I said, and it wasn’t even a guess, “You destroyed Porter’s memoirs.”

“Yes.” He said it promptly, like awarding points in a contest.

“But why kill him?”

“Because he knew why I destroyed the manuscript. That was a mistake on my part. I should have stalled longer.”

“He knew you murdered Langley Hawthorne?”

“Just for the record” – he raised his eyebrows as though making sure we both understood this – “I didn’t murder Langley. His death was an accident.”

“Then why wasn’t it reported as an accident?”

“Because we had been arguing, and I suppose I felt guilty. I knew I would be a suspect in his death. He had told me about his will – he was very set on Nina and me marrying. And of course neither Nina nor I had any desire to marry each other. We were young but we weren’t stupid.”

“So what happened?”

“We were rowing. Langley turned away and fell against the rail gate. He went into the water and he must have hit his head. By the time I got him out, he was dead. Porter came along as I was trying to resuscitate him. I was panicking – badly. It was Porter’s idea to…put Langley back and recreate discovering the body. Then he provided me with an alibi for the time that Langley died.”

He made it sound so simple, so plausible, it took me a moment to think of the obvious. “Why would he?”

Paul said irritably, “Because he was my friend and because he knew exactly how it would look to the authorities. He did it to help me – nothing could be done for poor old Langley. And it was an accident.”

“And in these memoirs Porter described what had really happened?”

Paul nodded. “He wanted to set the record straight. Clear his conscience. Not that his conscience wasn’t perfectly clear. ”

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. But I thought the story of Langley Hawthorne falling through the rail gate and conveniently drowning before help could reach him was a little pat. How the hell long had it taken Kane to drag him out of the drink? Why hadn’t he yelled immediately for help? Maybe Porter had begun to think Kane’s story was a little pat too as he reexamined his past.

Paul said, “Porter couldn’t – or refused to – understand that there was as much danger to me now as there ever had been should the truth of Langley’s death come out.”

I said, “So you poisoned the friend who had helped you when you needed it most –”

He interrupted, “Porter was dying. He had pancreatic cancer. Have you any idea of how painful a death that is?”

“Oh,” I said. “You did him a favor.”

His eyes narrowed. “I did, actually. It was fast, relatively painless, and he had no idea it was coming. Not a bad death, frankly. Believe me, losing Porter as a friend and a business partner gained me nothing.”

I could pretty well see the way this was going to play out. I just hoped Kane was speaking loudly enough for the tiny recording device taped beneath my shirt.

“So why drag me into it?” I asked. “Optioning my book – what was that about?”

He lowered his lashes and then suddenly opened his eyes and smiled at me. The beauty of that smile took me slightly aback. “I’ve always been curious about you: my unknown rival for Jake’s affections.” His smile was self-mocking. “But then he married and broke it off with you.”

“But not with you?”

“Not for long.” He watched my face. “After he married we grew closer. Much closer. One night he had a few drinks and he started talking about you. And I decided I would arrange a meeting with you by optioning your book. I do like the book, by the way, but I don’t think it’s particularly commercial.”

The unkindest cut of all.

“So why the hell drag me into the murder investigation?”

“Didn’t you enjoy it?”

I opened my mouth – and then closed it. He chuckled. “Of course you did. And I enjoyed watching you enormously – and watching Jake.”

If I’d had any doubts before, that cleared them up. He could talk about accidents and panic and doing favors for old friends, but he was cold and calculating and cruel. A sociopath. No conscience, no remorse, no empathy. In fact, I thought it possible he might have drowned his own kid. I wondered if anyone had looked into that accident.

“And Al January?” I asked carefully.

“You can take responsibility for that one,” he said. “Why the fuck you had to drag Al into it, I don’t know. What did you think would happen when you started asking him about Langley and Porter’s memoirs?”

He had me there. I hated thinking I might be responsible for Al’s death. If I managed to get out of this alive, I was going to make damned sure I never got involved in another criminal investigation. I said, “So Al called you and told you I’d been asking questions about Porter’s memoirs, which started him thinking – because the truth is only one person could have easily poisoned Porter’s drink, and that was you. That was a nice little touch having me hand Porter his glass.”

“I thought so. I didn’t plan it, though,” he admitted. “It just happened. I thought you might drink it, actually. It stood beside your own glass for what felt like an eternity.” He smiled. “But you were quite careful not to touch it, and I really couldn’t afford to let Porter go on bitching about his lost masterpiece.”

A funny little chill went down my spine as I realized how close I’d been to dying that afternoon. It could have all ended right there – and Jake would have shown up and found me as his homicide case.

And Kane would have got away with it.

I said, “So you raced over to Al’s, bashed him over the head –”

“Not hard enough apparently, but even if Al makes it, after traumatic head injuries the victim often doesn’t remember the hours previous – he might lose the whole day.”

“Well, we can only hope!” I said, unable to stop myself from copying his cheerful tone. His smile was odd.

“Any other questions? You’re probably dying to know where I came up with the digitoxin, aren’t you?”

“Nina left an old bottle around after the last party she catered for you?”

He looked pained. “Of course not. What a strange idea. No. A former lover left them. As a matter of fact, I hung onto those pills for nearly three years. I had a feeling they would come in useful at some point.” And the look in his eyes sent another of those slithers down my spine. “Any other questions?” he asked gently.

“Just wondering where we go from here.”

He drawled, “You mean you’ve no notion at all? Not a one? You’re not wearing a wire under that sweater of yours? You’re not carrying your grandmother’s Webley tucked in the back band of your jeans?”

I didn’t move a muscle.

High above us a gull swooped low, squawking. I thought that I would never forget the bright heat of the sun and the smell of salt in the air: the sound and the taste of betrayal.

Kane laughed. “Of course you are. Well, that narrows our options a bit. If you were willing to play…but you’re not. You’re bound and determined to see me brought to justice, aren’t you? Regardless of the cost to…anyone. Yourself included.”

I don’t think I could have moved if my life had depended on it – and it probably did.

“So let me tell you what I have planned for you. I’m going to settle one final curiosity, the curiosity of what the attraction is between men like myself and Jake. You’ve always wondered about that, haven’t you?”

He raised his brows at my lack of response.

“Of course you are. Anyone would be. It’s another mystery, and you love mysteries. You’ve wondered about this secret world, the world of exquisite pain shared between men who trust each other – trust each other beyond what any outsider can possibly understand. Men who share…everything.”

“Including consecutive prison terms,” I managed.

He smiled and, oddly enough, that suave smile reminded me of the illustration of Foxy Loxy in my childhood copy of Chicken Little – and why the hell that thought was in my mind, beat me. I was probably in shock.

“Don’t be so bloody ungrateful, Adrien. I’m offering to initiate you into such pleasures of the flesh as you can’t possibly imagine. There’s a room below deck.” He glanced down at the teak deck beneath our feet. “A very special room for very special guests. We’re going to spend hours down there, you and I, and I’ll show you everything – teach you everything – or as much as your heart can stand.”

“I’ll pass,” I said. It seemed like an unfortunate turn of phrase, once the words were out.

“You won’t want to pass. Not when you learn who’s waiting below deck for us.”

I swallowed. “How many guesses do I get?” I asked. I was amazed at how calm I sounded. I didn’t feel calm. I felt dead. I probably was dead – even if I got off this boat alive. Something had died inside me the instant I realized Jake had told Paul Kane what I planned.

I thought of that painstaking letter I had written to my lawyer – doing my very best to keep Jake out of it as much as possible. That was actually kind of funny.

“Well, it was going to be a surprise,” Paul said regretfully, “but I can see you’re going to need a little persuasion.”

He rose in a graceful, lithe movement and rang the brass ship’s bell hanging behind us. There was motion above. I looked up. The captain appeared on the bridge above us. Paul waved him the all clear and he ducked away again.

I wondered idly how much Paul Kane paid him; how desperately did he want to keep his job?

There were footsteps behind us; the deck boards vibrated. I turned and watched Jake step onto the deck.

“I’m afraid the joke’s on you,” Paul said, watching my face. “Jake rang me last night after you called him with your wild scheme to entrap me. You do have a taste for the dramatic, Adrien. I give you credit.”

I made myself look at Jake. His face was…harrowed. He glanced at me briefly, looked away. All his focus was on Paul Kane.

“I do have to say though, that although this kind of thing works in books or on the small screen, I’d never in reality have confided a single word to you if Jake and I hadn’t worked it all out ahead of time. As it was, I admit, I did enjoy playing out this little scene. You were being so clever. It was sheer delight to watch you in action.”

I said, “My scheme is unrealistic? You honest to God think you’re going to sail into port with yet another victim of a fatal accide –”

“Shut up, Adrien,” Jake said flatly.

“Fuck. You,” I said.

A muscle moved in his cheek.

“You’re missing the point,” Paul informed me. “We’re going to fuck you. We’re going to take turns over and over and over again. I think with a bit of cooperation from you we’ll be able to present the authorities with a perfectly legitimate case of heart failure. It’s going to be rather a scandal, but I like scandal.” He winked at Jake. “And I have a friend on the force who’ll help me navigate the legal waters, as it were.”

My heart was pounding so hard I wasn’t sure I could get the words out. I said, “If that’s your plan, then you’re a total lunatic. Did you ever hear of DNA? Did you ever hear of –” I broke off as Jake pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I stood up, rocking against the battened-down table. “Jake,” I said, and to my horror my voice shook. Not with fear – with grief, with disbelief. I was beyond anger. I think I felt something close to horror for what he had come to.

He never looked at me. He said in a dead, mechanical voice, “Paul Kane, you’re under arrest for kidnapping, attempted rape, attempted murder –”

Paul laughed.

And something seemed to snap inside Jake. He said, “For Christ’s sake, Paul! Did you honest to God think I would be okay with murder? I’m a cop. I’ve spent my entire adult life upholding and enforcing the law.”

Into the silence that followed those anguished words, another gull swooped down, jeering.

“You’re not…serious.” Paul looked stricken. “James…”

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Jake said. “I couldn’t believe it. But it’s true. Every goddamn thing he accused you of is true.”

“My darling –” Paul reached out a shaking hand. It was stagy and melodramatic – and yet I thought it was absolutely genuine. He had been struck to the heart. Or whatever he used for that organ.

Jake grabbed him, turned him, preparing to snap the cuffs on. “Don’t say anything else, Paul. Wait for your lawyer.”

Paul ducked away, sliding out from under Jake’s hand. He turned and he was holding something small and metallic, glinting wickedly in the moody sunshine. A gun. Like a toy. A derringer.

He pointed it straight at me and fired.

And at the same moment Jake stepped in front of me. I felt him rock back as the bullet hit him, a tiny metal projectile burrowing into warm living flesh, heard the shot – like a clap of doom – and something kicked me hard in the left shoulder. My left arm went heavy and numb.

Fast. So fast. Bang and it was done.

Paul Kane stood there gaping at us, and the astonished horror on his face would have been comical in other circumstances. “James,” he whispered.