I’m not much of a gun guy. This one had belonged to Seymour Herschkowitz, the killer dry cleaner, when he feared people might come to do him harm. It had been included with the home furnishings. There’s no sportsman bullshit that it’s for hunting. It was designed from scratch for professional killers. Ostensibly the legal ones, soldiers and armed-response police. It’s a semiautomatic. It holds six rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. It has a collapsible stock, which is exactly what it sounds like, so you can hold it like a giant pistol instead of a rifle.

Cohen stood still. Staring at me. Trying to breathe steady.

I didn’t say anything.

He didn’t say anything.

Cohen slowly raised his hands up. Not high overhead like in a Western movie. Or like kids marching out of a middle school after a mass shooting. Just to about shoulder height, palms forward.

I still didn’t say anything.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t know what I did to upset you.”

I pointed at the handgun he’d revealed by pushing back his jacket.

He said, “It’s hot in here. I was just getting comfortable.”

I shook my head, no.

“Come on, Tony, I’m not going to pull on you.”

I still didn’t say anything.

“You want me to just take it out, put it on the ground or something?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You don’t have to do that. Do what you want. Go for it. If you win, you have big problems. What do you do with the body? What were you doing here? They trace cars and phones. If I win, I don’t have any problems. You came in with a gun. Even in blue state New York, this is my house.”

“You’re misreading an innocent gesture.”

“No. I’m not. What we have here, Owen, is…a breach of etiquette. Yeah, a breach of etiquette. Bad manners. A misperception of who each of us is in this situation.” I gestured with the Benelli. It’s Italian. It has style, style that communicates. As Ferrari says speed and Gucci says conspicuous consumption, a Benelli shotgun says kill. I said, “Sit down.”

Owen backed up slowly, until he felt the couch behind him, then lowered himself. It’s big, cushiony and soft. He sank low. If he pulled his gun, he’d shoot himself in the knee before he shot me.

“We go back a long way,” I said. “We’ve done business together. Always worked out. If you want to talk to me, you could call and I’d chat with you any time. Hey, if you think it’s better to visit with no invitation…and surprise me just ’cause you’re in the neighborhood…I can accept that. If you have something to say, I’m willing to listen. Like I said, why not? But don’t think you can come up here and threaten me. Not with words. Not by showing you own a gun. Don’t come up here…for that matter, don’t talk to me anywhere, any time…like you think you’re a cop and I’m a civilian.”