At that, Claudine violently smashed her forehead onto a corner of the nearby support beam. It cut through her skin instantly. Dark, pitch-black blood gushed down her face.

“Jesus!” cried Thomas.

Henry was too stunned to speak.

Claudine

“I was scared for my life,” Claudine continued. “I’ve never been so afraid. But Thomas had set this knife down by the champagne.”

She used her knife as a pointer as she spoke.

“Earlier it was helpful cutting off the foil caps on the champagne before bringing them inside. That was it. I walked out and made a comment about the knife. Joked how sharp those things were. He told me the blade on his wine opener was too dull. See what I mean? Details. After he hit me, it was pure luck that I got to the knife first. It could have gone either way. I just stabbed what I could and happened to catch an artery. A simple case of self-defense.”

Panic flashed in Thomas’s eyes. Claudine’s face was a bloody wreck. She made it worse by repeatedly smearing it so it wouldn’t blur her vision. Henry was having trouble breathing. He was clutching his arm.

“No, Claudine,” he said.

“You’re right, Henry,” she said. “You’re so right. It’s much more believable if you do it. Just like it was for the Miller story. Much more likely that you’d overpower this strong young man. Get to the knife first. Come to think of it, Thomas, you’re about the same age as your father was then. That kind of symmetry might get you an extra write-up in the Aspen Tribune. How about this: Henry, noticing I’ve been gone from the party too long, comes out to find me. He sees the bartender toss me into the pillar, grabs the knife, and without thinking plunges it into his chest. A hero.”

The bartender made a motion to get past Claudine, but she instantly countered, blocking his way.

“Henry, here is your chance. You always thought you were a murderer. Tonight you finally get to become one.”

Laying the knife flat on her palm, she offered the blade to Henry.

“You know exactly what you have to do.”

Henry

He looked at the knife, then at Thomas, then back at the knife.

The sound of familiar carols crept out from inside.

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly / Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la …”

His left arm was completely numb now. His heart slamming in his chest.

“Henry, this will end it once and for all,” Claudine said. “You want to retire? Close up shop? You want to leave Aspen? Let’s do it. But we can’t leave any loose ends. You have to do this.”

He tried to slow his breathing but couldn’t. He was gulping for air now.

“No, Claudine,” Henry said between gasps. “There isn’t a world that exists where I kill him.”

“Fine,” Claudine said. “Then I will.”