“Funny.”

Win steepled his hands. “Do you think you’re the first guy Kyle dragged to that maroon room—or just the first to escape without a hospital visit?”

“He’s a bad guy, so what?”

“He’s a very bad guy. Three assault beefs in the past year—in all cases, witnesses from the club helped clear him.”

“So you took care of it?”

“It’s what I do.”

“Not your job.”

“But I so enjoy it.”

No point in getting into this now. “Dimonte wants to talk to you.”

“As I’m aware. But I don’t want to talk to him. So my attorney will contact him in about half an hour and tell him that unless he has an arrest warrant, we will not be chatting. End of story.”

“Would it help if I told you that you shouldn’t have done it?”

“Wait,” Win said, starting his mime act. “Before you start, let me tune up my air violin.”

“What exactly did you do to him anyway?”

“Did they find the Taser?” Win asked.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“What do you mean, where? Next to his body.”

“Next to it?” Win said. “Oh. Well. He must have been able to help himself a little bit at least.”

Silence. Myron reached into the fridge and grabbed a Yoo-hoo. The television screen had the Blu-ray Disc logo bouncing across it.

“How did Kyle put it?” Win said, twirling the cognac in its snifter, his cheeks flushed red. “He will be pissing blood for a while. Maybe he broke a bone or two. But in the end he’ll recover.”

“But he won’t talk.”

“Oh no. He won’t ever talk.”

Myron sat. “You’re a scary dude.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag,” Win said.

“Still this was not a wise move.”

“Wrong. It was a very wise move.”

“How so?”

“There are three things you must remember. One”—Win lifted a finger—“I never hurt innocents, only those most deserving. Kyle fit that category. Two”—another finger—“I do this to protect us. The more fear I instill in people, the safer we are.”

Myron almost smiled. “That’s why you let yourself get caught on that street video,” he said. “You wanted everyone to know it was you.”

“Again I don’t like to brag, but, well, yes. Three,” Win said, holding up the third finger, “I always do it for reasons other than vengeance.”

“Like justice?”

“Like getting information.” Win picked up the remote and pointed it at the television. “Kyle was kind enough to provide me with all the surveillance tapes from last night. I’ve spent most of the day looking through them for both Kitty and Brad Bolitar.”

Whoa. Myron turned toward the screen. “And?”

“I’m still going through them,” Win said, “but so far, it isn’t good.”

“Explain.”

“Why explain when I can show?” Win poured a second snifter of cognac and showed it to Myron. Myron shook it off. Win shrugged, put the snifter down next to him, and pressed the play button on the remote. The screen’s bouncing logo vanished. A woman appeared. Win hit pause. “This is the best view of her face.”