She nodded a few times, and I knew I hadn't convinced her. Guilt was like that. It was not susceptible to reason.

Mira's face suddenly hardened. "It's good that you killed the murderer," she said. "I wish I had done it. I will take care of Strauss."

The way she said it left no room for discussion. Not that I had anything to say on the subject. Strauss had sent an assassin after me. He was responsible for the deaths of Esther and Willie. I couldn't prove his guilt in a way that would result in a murder conviction, so he had to die. Either Mira would do it, or I would have to take care of it myself.

Mira said, "Have you given Willie's mother the news?"

"No," I said, and I explained that I'd not yet told Henrietta that her son was dead, that I'd been waiting until I'd discovered who the killer was. "I'll go by her apartment later this afternoon after she returns from work."

"She will be heartbroken."

"Yes. She will. I'll tell her the killer died a violent death. Maybe it will ease her pain a little." But the words rang false, and I knew that I had held off informing Henrietta of her son's fate for no good reason.

"She will want to have the name on the headstone changed," said Mira.

"What?" I asked, distracted by thoughts of Henrietta.

"Willie's and Esther's headstones. They bear their false names to this day."

"Oh, I see. Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll talk to Henrietta about it."

"I haven't visited their graves," Mira said, looking abashed. "Not even once. I couldn't bring myself to do it. When this is all over, I think I'll go."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, so I kept quiet.

Mira put her hand on my forearm. Her fingers matched her physique—long and slender. Like last time, her touch was cool, but it sent heat up my arm.

We stared at each other in silence for a long, loaded moment. The air in the apartment seemed to be holding its breath.

Mira broke the silence. "Thank you, Adam, for all you've done."

She leaned a little toward me and tilted her head. After a slight hesitation, I leaned the rest of the way, closing the distance between us. Her lips parted slightly the instant before my mouth met hers, and her warm breath tickled my tongue. It had a taste, her breath, but I could not tell what it was. Something sweet and fresh.

Her lips were softer than they looked, and she invested herself fully in the kiss. When she broke the kiss, my lips felt deprived.

"I wanted to do this last time," she said, smiling softly, "but the moment seemed wrong. Now is better." She didn't wait for a response, but leaned in again.