“That’s not what I’m saying,” Keegan said. “I do believe you. It’s just there’s nothing here for a private detective to do. What you need is a watchful neighbor. That, I’m happy to do for free.” He turned his whiskey glass—his second round—on the tabletop and watched the resistance in her face soften into a demure smile. “And maybe you’d feel better with a little protection tomorrow night when Uncle Nigel goes out of town,” he said. “I can help you there, too.”

Eve raised her eyebrows. “Protection?” she said. “How do you mean?”

“A gun,” Keegan told her. Even though he’d only had two drinks, he heard the machismo in his own voice, and willed it away. “I’ve got one you can borrow. I can show you how to use it. It’s against the law to carry it around in your bag, but you can keep it with you in the house or on the grounds. It’ll calm your nerves just to know you have it.”

She bit her lower lip and then shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’d be more nervous to have a gun lying around. What if it went off?”

Keegan laughed. “That’s from the movies, too,” he told her. “It doesn’t really happen. Not with a revolver, anyway. It takes twelve pounds of pressure to pull the trigger. There’s no way it goes off unless you want it to.” He could feel his words wearing down her resistance—and that sense of persuasiveness, along with the Irish whiskey, had him feeling good about himself again. “You could hammer nails with the thing and it wouldn’t fire a round.”

That got another smile from her. She fingered the gold chain that disappeared down into her blouse. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, but her theatrical tone of resignation hinted that she was allowing herself to be convinced.

“I’ll pick it up, and I’ll give you a lesson first thing tomorrow,” Keegan said firmly. He’d have to swing by his apartment for it, either tonight after he dropped Eve off or early in the morning. But what did it matter? In this heat, he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway. “You’ll feel better having it with you if you’re alone,” he said. And then he thought—again, without any good reason—about Marilyn Monroe in her empty bedroom in a big darkened house. “And I’ll feel better knowing you’ve got it.”