“Exactly. Fair is fair.” He smiled. “Finally someone catches on. Mrs. Lyndon was right, you are a clever piece of work. I told her I was a reporter, doing a story on you. She was so happy to help . . . her little A student.” The gun tickled my ribs. “You deserve something for paying attention—maybe I'll knock you unconscious before I roll you over the cliff outside. Such a perfect setup . . .” Head cock toward the front door. “Would you like that?”

Before I could answer: “Just kidding! Your eyes will be taped open, you'll experience every second of hell, just like I did.”

He laughed. Droned some more, describing how he'd beaten Rodney Shipler to death, blow by blow.

When he was through, I said, “Katarina was high command also. Why'd you wait so long for her?”

Trying to buy time with questions—but to what end? A longer ordeal for Robin—why was it so quiet in there?

My eyes shifted downward. The damn gun arm wasn't moving.

He said, “Why do you think, clever boy? Saving the best for last—and you messed me up royal. You were supposed to go before her, but then you started snooping around, sending your queer police buddy snooping, so I had to do her out of sequence. . . . I'm pissed at you for that. Maybe I'll put your girlfriend on the barbecue. Make you watch that with your eyelids taped open.”

Smiling. Sighing. “Still, she-beast got done, and what's done is done . . . do you know how she handled her fate? Total passivity. Just like the rest of you.” Jab. “What kind of person would want to spend his life just sitting there listening—not doing anything?”

He laughed.

“She got down on her knees and begged. Her she-beast throat got all clogged up like a toilet full of shit. . . . She was eating breakfast, I just strolled in, put this gun to her head, said “bad love, she-beast.' And she just fell apart.”

Shaking his head, as if still not believing. Slight shift of the gun.

“Not an ounce of fight. No fun. I had to stand her up and order her to make a run for it. Kicked her butt to get her to move. Even with that, all she could do was stumble into the garage and get down on her knees again. Then she snapped out of her trance. Then she started begging. Crying, pointing to her stomach, telling me she's pregnant, please have pity on my baby. Like she had pity . . . then she pulled a card out of her pocket, trying to prove it to me. A sperm bank. Which makes sense, who would have done her?” Laughter. “Like that was a reason. Saving her beastly fetus. Au contraire, that was the best reason of all to do her. Kill Hitler's seed.”