She straightened. “Does it matter? What happened?”

“Ask Ron Symonds. I doubt you’d take my word for anything.”

“Getting pissy, are we?”

I shot up from the chair, and then slowly eased back down again when my head began to pound. “Yeah, I thought I might. I’ve gotten little to no cooperation from you for days, now suddenly you turn up everywhere I go, wanting information. Oh, and let’s not forget another man’s dead and there’s a woman upstairs who’s well on her way, thanks to the lunatic sitting in the back of a squad car outside. A lunatic, by the way, who has vowed to kill me.”

Dark, even eyes searched mine. “She says you flew in and took her down for no reason.”

I repositioned the ice pack, fuming. I’d had just about enough of goons, dead-eyed killers, and Marta Pena. “I’m done talking to you, Marta. If I’m under arrest, take me in. Otherwise, shove it. I’ve still got a job to do. Yours and mine, apparently.”

“You own a nine-millimeter Glock,” she said. It was not a question.

“So?”

“That’s what killed Darby.”

“You know who else owns a nine-millimeter Glock? Half of Chicago . . . oh, and Nicholas Spada.”

“And you know that how?”

I shook my head, instantly regretting it. “I’m not saying another word without my lawyer. Till then, you’re just going to have to take my word for it, or not. At this point, I couldn’t care less.”

“I’ll concede the fact that you’ve managed to get yourself in the middle of something more complicated than a drowning,” Marta said.

I stared at her, let a beat pass. “Wow, that actually looked like it hurt.”

The corners of her mouth curled up. It was almost a smile, but not quite. “The paperwork’s not enough, but you know that already. I can reach out to Spada, ask him to come in for a chat.”

“Really? He’ll just come on down for a chat? What about Stella Symonds?”

“We have the nurse outside. She’s not going anywhere.”

“But you don’t have the one who hired her.”

“I have no proof yet that someone did hire her, neither do you. She’s not talking, at least not yet. The best we can do is take her in and see what we come up with.”

I stood again, slower this time. “You do that.” I stuffed the bag of ice into my pocket. I might need it later.

Marta looked like she was about to come back with something snarky, but then a uniformed cop popped his head in. “Detective? You’re gonna want to see this.”

She flicked a look at me. “Stay here.”