God, when the news hit that someone you knew died, you got a small shot of what the deceased was getting a whole boatload of: You stopped short and pulled out of the business of life as the ringing of the bell resonated through your mind and your body. And because humans were a pain in the ass, usually the first thought was, No, it can’t be.

Life, however, didn’t come with a rewind button and it sure as fuck wasn’t interested in opinions from the peanut gallery.

The curtain pulled back, revealing a stocky man with dark hair and dark eyes. “Vin diPietro?”

Vin jerked himself to attention. “Ah…yeah, that’s me.”

The man stepped inside and took out a badge. “I’m Detective de la Cruz from Homicide. How you doing?”

“Haven’t thrown up in about ten minutes.”

“Well, good for you.” He nodded to Gretchen and gave her a little bow. “I’m sorry we have to meet again so soon…and under these circumstances. Now, can you guys give me a quick version of what happened? And listen, neither of you is under arrest—but if you’d rather talk with a lawyer present, I understand.”

Mick Rhodes hadn’t been called yet, and he’d no doubt advise against saying anything without him, but Vin was too tired to care—and anyway, it didn’t hurt to be nominally cooperative when you’d acted within the bounds of the law.

Vin shook his head back and forth on the pillow. “No, it’s fine, Detective. As for what went down…we were upstairs in the bedroom with…” For no good reason, an overriding instinct told him not to mention Eddie—one so strong that he felt powerless to resist it. “…with Jim.”

The detective took out a little pad of paper and a pen, all Columbo-style. “What were you doing in the house? The neighbors said that usually there’s no one in it.”

“I own the place and I’ve decided to finally do it over for resale. I’m a real estate developer and Jim works…worked…for me. We were there discussing the project, you know, going through the rooms…. I guess I’d left the front door open and we were upstairs when it all happened.” As the detective nodded and made notes in his pad, Vin gave him a chance to get it all down. “We were in the bedroom, talking, and the next thing I know I hear this gun go off. It happened so damn fast…. Jim jumped in front of her and took the bullet…. I was by the dresser with my back to the door, and I went for my piece—which, by the way, is registered and I have a license to carry. I shot the guy with the gun and he went down.”

More notations in the pad. “You shot him a number of times.”