'And he was probably scared. Gavin and Wechsler would have leaned on him pretty hard before they set him up in the fund-raiser scam. He might have thought a, ah, bully boy would be useful.'
'And he would have thought he could manipulate you,' Susan said. 'And he would have assumed that you would protect him because of me.'
'Which I will,' I said.
'No,' Susan said. 'You won't.'
The kitchen was quiet except for the soft white sound of air conditioning. I let my gun rest against my right thigh. Cony Brown was a pro and Brad had cranked him.
'So,' Sterling said, 'you are prepared to throw me to the wolves? Both of you?'
He looked hard at Susan. She had one last sip of her strong coffee and put the cup down and folded her hands behind it on the counter top. She looked back at Sterling.
Then she said to me, her eyes still on Sterling, 'Do you think he killed Carla Quagliozzi?'
'Yes.'
'And… cut out her tongue?'
'Yes.'
Something happened to Sterling's face. Something stirred behind his eyes that changed the way he looked. Something repellent peeked out through the bland Ivy League disguise. It was nameless, and base, and it wasn't human. We both saw it. Perhaps Susan had seen it as often in her work. She didn't flinch.
She said, 'You did that, didn't you, Brad.'
The thing darted in and out of sight behind his eyes. He didn't speak. Susan got up from the counter and walked around it and stood in front of Sterling.
'You killed that woman and cut her tongue out,' she said. 'Didn't you.'
The kitchen was cool and still. I could feel the trapezius muscles on top of my shoulders begin to bunch. I took in some air and made them relax. When Sterling finally spoke it was shocking. His voice came out in an eerily adolescent whine.
'What was I supposed to do?' he said. 'They send some gangster to hurt me and I have to shoot him and the cops are after me. And I'm desperate. And down on my luck, for cripes sake, and go to her for help and she won't help. She says she's going to tell.'
'Tell the police?' Susan said gently.
'Yes. Because of him.'
I knew he meant me. So did Susan.
'He kept coming around, and then the cops, and she was going to go there and tell on me.'
'To the police?' Susan said. 'She was going to the police?'
'Yes.'
Tears had formed in Sterling's eyes.
'She was my wife, for cripes sake. She was supposed to help me.'
'So you had to kill her?' Susan said.
'I was supposed to let her tell?'
'And the… tongue,' Susan said.
'So they'd know.'
The sound of his voice had lost all hint of the man from whom it came. It sounded like a drill bit binding in metal.
'They'd know what?'
'That she was going to tell on us, so I had to kill her. It was a, a symbol. So they'd know I was protecting all of us.'
'They being Gavin and Wechsler?'
''Course.'
Susan looked at me.
'What did you use?' I said.
'My jackknife. My father always said a man was no better than the knife he carried. I always carry a good jackknife.'
'And what did you do with it?'
'With what?'
'The tongue,' I said.
'The thing in the sink, you know…' He made a grinding noise.
'Disposal,' Susan said.
'Yuh, disposal.' He gestured down, with his forefinger.
