“You didn’t kill me once when you had every reason to, and after that, you couldn’t have stayed,” Erich said, leaning forward. His left hand had stopped clenching. “Walking away from her was part of the favor you did for me. I never forgot that. And she helped me, at first. Helped me build what I have now. Taught me to use brains to beat brawn. She never lacked for a thing it was in my power to give.”

“And I appreciate that,” Amos repeated. Erich’s eyes narrowed and his right hand came up from under the desk with a short-barreled automatic in it. Amos found himself surprised and a little proud of his friend. Erich rested his hand on the desk, the gun pointed away from Amos, more a warning than a threat.

“If you’ve got some beef you came here to settle,” Erich said, “you won’t be the first guy to leave this office in a bag.”

Amos raised his hands a little in mock surrender. “Not even armed, chief. I came here to talk.”

“So talk.”

“What you did for Lydia was real nice,” Amos said, putting his hands back down slowly but keeping his eye on the gun. “But you’re wrong. She’s not all dead. Some of her’s left.”

Erich cocked his head to the side, frowning. “Gonna need to walk me through that one.”

“There’s an old man loved her and lived with her and kissed her goodnight before she died. A house with a little rose garden they worked together. Maybe some dogs. I saw a picture, but not sure if they’re still around.”

“I still don’t get it,” Erich said.

Amos rubbed his thumb against his knuckle, trying to find the words. It wasn’t a thought he’d said out loud before, and if he screwed it up and Erich misunderstood, there was a chance they’d wind up trying to kill each other. So it was worth thinking about some.

“It’s like this. The old man keeps the house until he dies. He’s the only thing she left behind. He’s the last bit of her. He keeps the house.”

Erich put the little gun flat on the desk and poured himself another drink. He leaned back, holding the glass with his right hand. He couldn’t pick the weapon back up without dropping the drink and he couldn’t do that faster than Amos could reach him. It was a signal, and Amos felt the tension leave the muscles in his neck and shoulders.

“That’s more sentimental than I would have guessed,” Erich said.

“I’m not sentimental about much,” Amos agreed. “But when I am, I’m pretty passionate.”