"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Olivia? About this?"
I blinked. "What would--? You think I killed--"
"No." The word came quick and firm. Then he paused. "You wouldn't murder anyone in cold blood. An accidental killing in self-defense? I could see that. Yet if that were the case, I would have realized it when I first told you he was dead. You're a decent actor, but we need to work on your instinctive reactions."
He was right, of course. Just this morning, I'd given myself away to Evans once, caught off guard.
"Niles Gunderson was murdered by his neighbor," Gabriel said. "Poisoned, it seems, over a disputed poker game. The man confessed. Senselessly, considering that the coroner had already ruled it a natural death. In light of the confession, they delayed the funeral, tested Gunderson's body, and confirmed the story. The man will spend the remainder of his natural life in prison. But at least he'll have a clear conscience."
Sarcasm and contempt twisted through that last sentence and, without thinking, I found myself nodding.
"On the subject of Niles Gunderson and confession, though, is there something you'd like to tell me, Olivia?"
"Relieve my guilty conscience?"
"No. Whatever it is, you don't seem to feel guilty. But you are troubled."
Damn it. The man might claim to have inherited none of his aunt's second sight, but he had an eerie ability to read people.
I shook my head. "It's nothing I'd burden you with."
"Burden?" He said the word as if he wasn't familiar with it. "I'm your lawyer, Olivia. You could tell me that you murdered Niles Gunderson, and I would only offer to handle your defense should you be charged."
"And it wouldn't bother you? If I killed an old man because ... I don't know, because he attacked me at home and I wanted revenge?"
I expected him to say that I was his client and what I did was of no personal concern to him. Instead, he spent a couple of minutes considering the matter.
"Yes," he said finally. "If that was your rationale, it would concern me."
"Because you'd be working with a psychopath?"
He seemed to think on that, too. "I suppose that could be a problem."
"Just maybe, huh?"
"If you displayed murderous intentions, I'm sure I could take care of myself. The point, however, is moot, because you did not kill Niles Gunderson. Nor, I believe, would you have unless it was a matter of necessity. Yet when I told you the other day that he was dead, you didn't seem surprised."
I took a deep breath. "Because I wasn't. I went to his apartment last Sunday. I was going to pretend to know Anna, in hopes of getting her contact information. I found Niles there. Dead."
"I see."
"The door was unlocked," I said. "I thought ... well, I thought maybe he was out and I could slip in and find Anna's information."
His nod was almost impatient, as if breaking into someone's home was such a natural response to the situation that it didn't warrant comment.
"I left him there," I said. "I found him and I didn't do anything about it."
"You think you should have?"
Now it was my turn to pause and consider. "I think I should have felt worse about not doing anything. I think it shouldn't have been so easy to just leave him there."
"Had you called me, I would have advised you to do exactly as you did. Witnesses saw him confront you only days before. You broke into his apartment. Even if his death appeared natural, there would have been questions. You instinctively made the right move, and I'm pleased to see it."
Which was not particularly comforting. I didn't say that, of course. Just nodded and waited until he'd pulled from the parking spot before I asked, "About the murder, though. Does it seem weird to you? Poisoning someone over a poker game?"
"Yes," he said. And nothing more.
Chapter Forty-two