I thought of the Jo I’d been that morning: nervous, unsure where the day would take me. I thought of MacLeish telling me without telling me what I already knew. I thought of plane tickets to Spain that would never be purchased and Jackal trying to warn me and Lafferty saying I needed to bring him the Lady and the crinkle in Lou’s nose when I made her laugh and Ellen’s dead weight in my arms and lemony Lou lying next to me in bed for a few short minutes.

She’d never been my Lou, but she’d always been my Lady.

Chapter 31

I wanted to tell you,” she said, her arms crossed over her silk robe. She didn’t sound particularly regretful that she hadn’t. Until she said it, I had been holding out hope that I was wrong.

“But you never quite got around to it.” I could feel the shadow of the gun on the bed behind me, a black, throbbing presence. “And it would’ve been so hard? Take me out for a drink, say, By the way, I’m really the Lady Upstairs?”

Lou gestured to the tumbler on the table. “You might like a sip of that. It might make you feel better.”

“You were so cool, giving me orders. But they never seemed like orders, did they? They always seemed like suggestions. Good advice. All of it, from the pie diner to that night with . . . Ellen.”

Lou’s green eyes sparkled, as though I’d told her a joke. “I’m surprised Jackal didn’t say anything, I know he was on to me by the end. The way he wouldn’t talk to me.” That one stung. She narrowed her eyes and smiled a little. “You know, I always wondered if he’d be able to do it, if I asked. Take care of you.” She must’ve caught the look on my face because her smile blossomed. “Oh yes, he was much handier than he looked. You can convince that man to do just about anything for an afternoon at the racetrack. And he was so good at keeping the girls quiet.” Lou’s face softened a touch, and she took a step toward me. “But I never really wanted you dead, Jo.”

Jackal, the Lady’s—Lou’s—hitman. I wasn’t sure which was worse: that he’d never told me, or that I’d never guessed. Jackal, the man with nothing under the surface. If only I’d known, I thought. Murder was something we could’ve bonded over. I could’ve laughed except it was so unfunny. I wondered how many over the years, who and how and when. The room tilted on its axis and started to realign itself in unfamiliar ways. Monsters, all of us, I realized. Not only me. All three of us.