At the sound of his name, the dog launched himself at Keegan and leaped up on his lap. Keegan stiffened. Was he about to get peed on? He tried to shoo the dog away, but the dog didn’t seem to understand the gesture. He insistently sniffed at Keegan’s shirt front—Nora’s scent, no doubt. Keegan tried to brush him away, but the tiny thing held his ground.

In the kitchen, Lusk hummed to himself as he puttered about. He came back into the room, carrying a couple of Schlitz bottles by the neck, one in each hand. “You don’t need a glass, do you?” he asked. The question felt like an accusation.

Keegan shook his head, and Lusk put one of the bottles on the side table by his chair. He set it on a wooden coaster inlaid with cork. “Kipper Lusk uses coasters?” Keegan said.

“Again, with the assumptions,” Lusk said. “We’ve got silverware and indoor plumbing and everything. That’s some high horse you’re riding, my friend.” Lusk plopped down on the other recliner and folded out the footrest. The dog jumped out of Keegan’s lap, darted under the coffee table and then jumped up on Lusk’s lap. Lusk took a sip from his bottle and looked across at Keegan. “So, do I need to worry about you, my friend?” he asked. “If I give you this gun, is your story going to be all over the papers I’m selling tomorrow?”

Keegan shook his head. “It’s just a prop,” he said. “I’m not even going to buy ammo.” He could hear the bubble and hiss of fish tanks behind him.

“It’s not like we’re buddies or anything,” Lusk clarified. “I only ask because I don’t want this blowing back on me.”

“Nothing’s going to blow back,” Keegan told him. His voice sounded unconvincing, even in his own ears. “If it does, it won’t be on you.”

Lusk nodded, clearly unconvinced. “Because if you need some help,” he said. “I know people.” He held his bottle aloft like he might be making a toast. “Whatever kind of help you need, I know a guy.” He tipped back his bottle and swallowed and then wiped his lips with the back of his wrist. “And, unlike you, they’re very good at what they do,” he said. “They’re fastidious, you might say.”

Keegan sighed and shook his head. He’d come here for a gun, not a lecture. “It’s fine,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. Nobody’s getting hurt.” Nobody else, at least. Nobody who wasn’t already dead. He thought of Ormsby’s empty-eyed stare in the kitchen doorway. He thought of the goldfish behind him, floating on the water’s surface.

“Does this have something to do with that Simon Catling guy you’re so interested in?”