He shook his head. “I’ve got a very nosy neighbor,” he said by way of explanation, his voice as quiet as he could make it. “That’s the only reason.” He nodded at the wall. “The guy’s probably got his ear pressed to a juice glass right now.” He gestured at the open doorway to his bedroom. “Please,” he said. “This end of the apartment will be safer. We can talk more easily.”

Eve stood warily, still holding the silver clutch in front of her. She walked past Keegan to the bedroom doorway. She leaned in before crossing the threshold, as if the room might be filled with snakes. Satisfied, she entered and, seeing nowhere else to sit, perched stiffly on the corner of Keegan’s unmade bed. She looked at him primly as he came through the doorway, hands folded in her lap. In that staid pose, she might have been the widow Ormsby, presiding over her silver tea set.

Keegan pulled the bedroom door shut behind them. The air was stale and sluggish, tinged with the odor of old laundry. He wished he could open a window, but then they might be heard out on the courtyard. Every window in the quad would be open tonight, every neighbor courting every breeze. “Sorry for all the cloak and dagger,” he told Eve. “I’m just getting a little paranoid.”

Eve nodded noncommittally. “What’s all this about?” she asked.

Keegan stood looking down at her. “I’m going to get arrested any minute,” Keegan said. “So, I’m a little on edge.”

Eve’s eyes went wide. “What?” she said. She caught herself and lowered her voice. “You’re joking,” she said in a whisper.

Not joking. Not really. Exaggerating, perhaps—but not by much. He thought of Moore standing at the Chinatown wishing well, counting off the prosecution’s evidence on his fingers. How long would it take to match the bullets dug out of the tree trunk with the one dug out of Uncle Nigel? He thought of the lieutenant’s grim look when they parted. Just as Moore had warned him, at this point Keegan was just another perp.

Keegan shook his head to scatter the plague of thoughts swarming there. “There’s a good chance we don’t have much time,” he told her. “We’ve got to figure out a plan. I’d like us to have our stories straight before they drag us into separate rooms.”

Eve looked at him, still agape. “Arrested?” she said. “Tonight?” It was like she was lagging a sentence or two behind his words, trying to keep up.