“Say that again.”

“A suicide note. From Robby. On my computer.”

“You checked your computer?”

“I just saw it. It’s right here on the screen. In front of me. It was turned on.”

“You’re sure it’s a suicide note?”

“Of course I’m sure. What else could it be?”

“What does it say?”

“It’s awful.”

“What does it say?”

“I don’t want to read it out loud. I can’t.” She sounded like she was taking deep breaths.

“Please, Kim, try to read it to me. It’s important.”

“Do I really have to read it? It’s really awful.”

“Try. Please.”

“Okay. I’ll try. Okay.” She read in a trembling voice, “ ‘The human race disgusts me. You disgust me. You and Gurney together disgust me. Life is disgusting. I hope someday you see the truth and it kills you. This is the last will of Robert Montague.’ That’s it. That’s all it says. When the police come, what should I tell them?”

“Just answer their questions.”

“Should I tell them about last night?”

“Answer their questions concisely and truthfully.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I wouldn’t volunteer a lot of stuff that would just muddy the picture.”

“Is it all right to say you were here?”

“Yes. They’ll want to know if you were in the apartment, when you came, when you left, and whether anyone was there with you. You can tell them we were there, that we were discussing your RAM project. I don’t think it would be helpful to distract them with extraneous details about Max Clinter or his house. The thing is, you need to tell the truth, you can’t lie—but you’re not required to spew out unasked-for details. You understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so. Should I tell them I spent last night at a hotel?”

“Definitely. They’ll want to know where you were, and you need to be truthful. If I were you, and my apartment had been entered mysteriously on a number of occasions, and the local police hadn’t responded adequately, I wouldn’t want to be sleeping there. I’d feel safer in a hotel, or in Walnut Crossing, or in a friend’s apartment in Manhattan. By the way, did you leave the hotel at all during the night?”

“No, of course not. But suppose—” There was a loud knocking sound in the background. “The police are here. I’d better go. Call you later.”

After the call ended, Gurney stood where he was, in the middle of the room, trying to get a firm hold on the facts, the implications, the immediate imperatives. He felt like a man juggling half a dozen oranges who’d just been tossed a watermelon.

A watermelon loaded with nitroglycerin.

Chapter 46

No Other Way

“Suicide?” said Kyle.