Sabrina took over.

"So you're telling us that you had absolutely nothing to do with Foley and his henchmen? Even though he identified you by name in the middle of the Amazon jungle? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. Wow, you're swift."

Uh oh. Obviously Bill Flynn had a short memory. Had he really forgotten that you just didn't do that with Sabrina? Apparently he had.

Sabrina's face clouded over. She took a step toward him. He involuntarily took a step back and tripped over a chair, landing flat on his back. It was all I could do not to laugh. He was done for. He clambered to his feet, trying to retain some sense of pride. It didn't work. The moment he was up, she stuck a finger in his chest. She must have got him in his solar plexus, because he doubled over.

"I write mysteries for a living," she said. "If I wrote someone as stupid as you into a book, no one would believe it. You don't get it, do you? You're finished. They will find the connection between you and Foley. They're not idiots. Your best defense is to say that you did hire Foley, but it was only to follow us, not kill us."

"You do realize they are listening to you."

"So? I just want them to arrest you. I don't care what you confess to and what you don't. I just want you out of circulation. We're tired of looking over our shoulders."

He was cooked and he knew it. He probably knew it the minute we came to the door. He looked over at Amanda, who didn't say anything. One would expect that at this point in the game, she would be weeping, or at least have tears in her eyes. Nope. If anything, she looked defiant. She was definitely as much a part of this as he was.

"Yeah, we hired Foley," Bill finally said. When she heard we, Amanda snapped her head up and looked at Bill with venom. Ah, the sudden end of a beautiful marriage.

"What do you mean we," she snarled. I had never actually heard someone snarl something before, but there was no doubt about this one. "This was you, you and your fucking family. If your father hadn't shown you Mikey's stuff, none of this ever would have happened."

"You mean the book you gave us?" I asked.

"No, something different. Some of Mikey's papers," said Bill, a little shell-shocked at Amanda's sudden desertion.

"Was the book real?"

"It was real. It just wasn't true. Most of it, anyway. It was a novel based on the events as he chose to relate them."

"So you've known about this for a long time?"

"Nah," said Bill finally. "I didn't know anything about it until about a year ago, right before my father died."

I had to give Marsh and the other police credit, they didn't barge in. Flynn was confessing—confessing knowing full well that he was being taped. They must have figured that since we were on a roll, there was no reason to interrupt.