Gwen scrambled for a way to take advantage of this situation. Standing aside, she gestured Mick into the apartment, struggling to maintain a calm expression. “Please keep your voice low, as people are sleeping after having been up all night. I gather you have a memoir about to be released?”

Mick stood straighter and preened. “That’s right. I’m about to be famous all over again.”

A chill raced down her spine. This man had killed her brother and thrown a grenade into the center of her family from which they never fully recovered.

“Congratulations,” she managed to say without her revulsion showing. “You must be very proud. Are there any new and earth-shattering tidbits in the memoir?”

Malone loved the attention and started boasting about how he got a glimpse of “young William” in the boiler room. He sat on the sofa, spreading his legs and arms wide as he painted the picture in colorful terms. Hiram and Dr. Haas looked appalled on her behalf, but Gwen sent them a quick shake of her head, warning them to say nothing. If Mick Malone didn’t know who she was, he might slip and mention a detail she could latch on to.

“Now, mind you, I didn’t have anything to do with that boy going missing,” Malone said, wagging a skinny finger at her. “I’m as pure as the driven snow when it comes to what happened to that poor child.”

His hands trembled, and he was sweating even though it wasn’t hot in here. They were classic symptoms of an alcoholic abstaining from drink. So was irritability and difficulty thinking clearly. A better person might feel guilty for exploiting his weaknesses, but Gwen pressed forward, hoping to trip him up.

“Why did you need a lawyer? If you’re telling the truth, you’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Because I’m a smart man, miss. That’s why I need a lawyer.”

“And was Mr. O’Neill a good one? Did he catch any details he thought better for you to withhold from your book?”

Malone’s smile was devilish as he rubbed his hands together. “There were plenty of good parts he wanted scrubbed from the book. I’d bet you’d love to know what they were, wouldn’t you!”

She matched his smile and leaned forward. “I would indeed.”

“Maybe if the book sells enough, I’ll come out with a sequel. After all, they can’t prosecute me for anything anymore. I was found not guilty by a jury of my peers. I could spill everything and still get away with it.”

She clenched her fists but kept her voice calm. “A sequel won’t sell unless you’ve got a good story. What else have you got to tell?”