Chapter 97

“And now you know I didn’t set you up. Did the cops dust for prints?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if Shaw or whatever his name really is wiped down the room before he left. He could have—I don’t know how long Pretty Boy lay there like that.” His eyes filled with tears again and his fingers closed on my arm, gripping it like a vise. “Vince.”

“Take it easy.”

He eased his hold on my arm and took in a shuddering breath.

“Okay, you said something about drinks. Did you bring the bottle with you?”

“No.”

“Okay, tell me about it.”

“Uh….” His forehead furrowed. “There was a bottle of Dewars and a couple of glasses on the dresser. Now that I think of it, I don’t remember seeing them there after…after…. There was blood all over the place; so much blood.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.” Unconsciously, I withdrew the knife from my pocket, caressing its sleek length, testing the blade against my thumb. Sharp enough.