JAMES
Michael falls to his knees, howling and weeping, gathering his fallen brother into his arms. Charlotte and Mitch stare, aghast, but not apparently, sorry.
I'm shaking. There's blood everywhere. "What happened to him being an amateur and not having the balls for it?"
Klempner shrugs. "He would have got there. He did get there. He was just screwing himself up to do it." He looks to Mitch and Charlotte. "They would never have been safe from him. They're safe now."
He throws his gun to the ground. "Don't touch it. Forensics will show the bullet that killed him came from there." He picks up the weapon Charlotte, and briefly Michael, carried, wiping the handle before placing it in the holster under his jacket.
He sees my expression. "One more shooting won't make a lot of difference to my record," he says drily. "And I'd hope you'll testify that I was defending my daughter."