split chapter 8

Excuse me for saying, but my bullshit meter is clanging so hard it's popping some springs."

"That's the truth, accept it or not." He held up an empty cup. "Tea?" he asked pleasantly. "You look like you could use some. I've got Earl Grey, peppermint or the old standby, Lipton."

"Screw the tea! Where were you and she coming from?" she demanded.

King kept his voice calm. "Oh, from about eight years ago."

"What!"

"Just taking a walk down memory lane."

"Eight years ago?" She looked at him incredulously. "Did you go to Bowlington?"

"Bingo. Sugar and cream?"

"What the hell did you go there for?"

"Sorry, I don't think you're cleared for it."

Joan slammed her fist on the table. "Cut the shit, Sean, and tell me!" He stopped making the tea and stared at her. "It's none of your damn business unless you tell me you have some interest in the Ritter assassination that I don't know about." She looked at him warily. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Why don't you tell me what it means?"

Joan sat back, took a deep breath and ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Does she know we spent the night together at the hotel?"

"It doesn't matter what she knows or doesn't know. This is between you and me."

"I still don't know where all this is going, Sean. Why are you raking all this up now?"

"Maybe I don't know why. And maybe I really don't care to know, so let's just drop the whole damn thing. Water under the bridge, right? Sleeping dogs lie, okay? Let asshole Ritter rest in peace, right?" He prepared the tea and handed her a cup. "Here, peppermint, drink it!"

"Sean —"

He grabbed her arm and leaned very close. "Drink your tea."

His very low voice and intense gaze seemed to calm her down. She picked up her cup and took a sip. "It's good, thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, about your Bruno offer. Suppose I say yes. What's the first step in our little partnership?"

Joan still looked very upset, but she took out a file from her briefcase and went over its contents. She took a deep, apparently cleansing breath and said, "We need facts. So I've put together a list of people to interview." She slid across a piece of paper that King looked at.

"And going to the crime scene and working the angle from there." King was running his eye down the list. "Okay, pretty thorough. Everyone from Mrs. Bruno to Mrs. Martin to Colonel Mustard and the butler." He stopped at one name on the list and looked up at her. "Sidney Morse?"

"He's supposedly at a mental institution in Ohio. Let's verify that. I'm assuming you'd recognize him?"

"I don't think I'll ever forget him. Theories going in?"