I hadn't expected one. Why are we taking the police in with us to Obsidian Butterfly? I told him what Jean-Claude had told me, though not how the message hadI gotten through. He looked away from me, closing his eyes. I couldn't shoot him, but there were other options.
I ran my hand down the smooth coolness of the black marble coffee table that sat nearest the fireplace. He slit open the front of the fur, having to stop and undo the belt that held knives and a small pouch. He had no reaction. I frowned at him.
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