“Me too, Jack,” Pita said, going to Jesus’s side. “You’re acting like a lunatic.”

“Eliza,” Jack said, “check the bedrooms for his blazer.”

“Jack…” Jesus said, taking a step forward.

Jack raised the pistol from Jesus’s chest to his head.

Jesus stopped.

“Eliza, go.”

Elizaveta checked Lucinda’s room first, opening the dresser drawers, peeking beneath the bed. There was no jacket.

She was halfway to Pepper’s room when the door opened. Rosa stood at the threshold, half in shadows, Jesus’s tweed blazer balled against her chest. She had obviously been listening through the door.

“It was in the corner,” she said.

“Give that to me,” Jesus snapped, reaching for her.

She dodged his hand, then dashed across the room.

“Good girl,” Jack said, taking the blazer. He shook it out, then held it up by the collar so everyone could see it.

Blood stained the left sleeve, from cuff to elbow.

3

Elizaveta felt hot and cold at the same time.

Could this be true?

Could Jesus have murdered Nitro?

No—there had to be a more mundane explanation for the blood.

“Let me guess,” Jack said. “You’re left-handed, Jesus?”

Jesus was shaking his head again, looking at the floor. He appeared to be smiling.

“Da,” Elizaveta said. “He is.”

Pita’s saucer eyes bounced back and forth between Jesus and Jack. Finally they settled on Jack. “Why are you doing this, Jack?” she asked him. “You know Jesus wouldn’t kill Nitro. So why are you doing this?”

“He has the murder weapon in his hand, Pita. Nitro’s blood is on his jacket’s sleeve. Maybe I’m wrong. I hope I am. But we’re going to have to let the police figure that out. Jesus—put down the knife.”

Jesus didn’t.

Jack aimed the pistol at his legs. “You have three seconds.”

“Jack!” Pita said.

“One…”

“Jack…” Elizaveta said.

“Two—”

“Okay!” Jesus set the knife on the floor.

“Kick it toward me.”

Jesus hesitated, then kicked the knife. It clattered across the wooden planks, stopping several feet short of Jack. Rosa scooted from behind Jack’s legs, retrieved the weapon, and returned to her refuge behind his legs.

“Tell me this isn’t true, Jesus,” Pita said.

“It’s not. Of course it’s not. It’s bullshit.”

“Then what about the blood…?”

“Jack’s set me up.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jack said.

“Nitro was my best friend, Pita,” Jesus said. “We were like brothers. I loved the guy. Jack’s the one who hated him.”

“You were outside with him when he was killed!” Jack said. “I was inside. With Eliza and Rosa.”

“It’s true!” Rosa said.

It was true, Elizaveta thought, though her mind was spinning. She was suddenly more confused than ever.

“I’m not saying Jack actually slit Nitro’s throat. But he organized it.” Jesus paused. “He’s working with whoever’s out there in the storm.”