Her hazel eyes narrowed. “I do. Just so happens, you’re in luck.” Mere jerked her head toward the far right corner, where a guy who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties was drinking alone.

It was a small stroke of luck, but I’d take it. “Thanks.”

I’d seen him around before, I realized. He was one of the regulars who often drank here during the day. So not luck then.

He blinked blearily up at me when I approached. “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked.

His eyes sharpened. “Well now, a young, beautiful woman offers to buy an old man like me a drink? I’d be a fool to refuse that, wouldn’t I?”

I took a seat as one of Mere’s waiters approached. The Bladesmith ordered another whiskey, I ordered an ice water, and we both sat back in our chairs.

“I have an ulterior motive,” I admitted. The Bladesmith gave me a tiny smile.

“I figured.”

“I’m investigating the attack on Gary.” He nodded again. “And Merrill’s murder.” Surprise flashed across his face, followed by sadness. “Ah, he’s dead is he? It would’ve happened sooner or later, but I’m sad to hear it.” His eyes met mine and his expression tightened. “You hit me hard with that to see if I knew of the murder or not.”

I shrugged. “I figured word would’ve gotten around, but it helps to take you off the suspect list.”

He gave a low chuckle. “I’ve been out of town for a few days. But you don’t truly think I did it. Why are you talking to me, Danica Amana?”

I raised my eyebrows and he nodded toward my arm. “Even I’ve heard of the bounty hunter bonded to Samael himself.”

“What’s your real name?” I asked, curious.

He held out his hand. “David McKenna.”

“And you make blades?”

“I make anything with a sharp edge. My ‘Da was a smithy, and his ‘Da before him. Only unlike them, I occasionally partner with paranormals.”

I’d figured. “So you create weapons of power.”

Not just illegal, but stupid. If the wrong person picked up one of those weapons…

He shook his finger at me. “Now listen here, Missy. I only take commissions from those who have power themselves.”

I raised one eyebrow. “And I suppose Gary was going to wield a magical weapon in between serving customers and taking his kids to the park.”

A dull flush worked its way up his cheeks. “That was different,” he ground out. “I owed Gary a favor.”

“I’m not here to judge you, honestly. I just need to know why you were meeting with Gary. And if you know anyone who might’ve wanted Merrill dead.”

The waiter approached with his drink and David finished his whiskey and reached for his fresh glass.