“It doesn’t matter what she said. None of that matters now.” There was no trace of regret in his expression. “All that matters is you and me. What does the rest of this count for, anyway?”

“What matters is you lied to me!”

“Lily, sweetheart, I know you’re upset—you have every right to be—but Ridley’s sleeping. Please don’t yell. Talk to me.”

“All right. Let’s talk,” I said, fighting to control my anger. “This is what I’ve figured out so far. You burned down the Church of St. Aristarchus. No, sorry, you paid somebody else to do it, since you were out of the country and anyway you’d never get your hands dirty. Claudia found out that you did it.” I didn’t add that Ridley had told her everything; the boy didn’t need more trouble. “Because my sister was incapable of keeping a secret, she told people. She mentioned the fire to me, and she told Tariq everything. She told her counselor at the rehab facility she went to in April. That was the woman who blackmailed you.”

Martin leaned back on the sofa and gave me an appraising look. “You know, as beautiful as you are, the most amazing part of you is your brain. Let’s say you’ve more or less hit the mark. I’m truly sorry I told you that Claudia called me. I thought it was her. It seemed like the kind of cheap stunt she would pull.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead. I know she was your sister, and you loved her. But I’m not going to be a hypocrite and pretend I’ll miss her.”

“Why stop now, Martin? You lied to me about everything. And you tried to murder my sister.”

“I had nothing to do with your sister’s death. How could you think—”

“I know you didn’t give her the overdose. But when you thought my sister was blackmailing you, you sent your henchman Gregory Robinson to kill her.” I set my purse on a chair and rested my forearms on the back of it. “After all, once you start giving money to these people, who knows where it will end?”

Martin got to his feet. “I understand you’re just not yourself right now, Lily. But really…”

“You had the keys to the apartment. You knew all of the details of my mother’s suicide. It was perfect, pretending that my sister decided to kill herself on the same date, in the same way. What a stroke of genius.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out the gun, smoothly releasing the safety, and pointed it at him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Shh, Ridley is sleeping,” I reminded him. “Does this help your memory at all?”

“You’ve lost your mind. You need help.”