“He’s gonna kill me!”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” he asked, his voice going shrill.
She recognized the symptoms. He was in full-blown panic mode.
“Josh, listen, please. You are in terrible trouble.”
“Well no shit, Sherlock.”
She rolled her lips inward to contain a retort. “I’ll help you. You know I will. But you must calm down and—”
“Calm down? Calm down? He’s out there! I know it. And he’ll kill me.”
His doomsday predictions continued in Jordie’s right ear as she strained with the other to hear the television’s audio and piece together the story that had her brother completely unhinged.
“Are you watching?” he asked.
“Yes.” A photo of a young man appeared on the TV screen, astonishing Jordie with its familiarity. In the picture, he didn’t have a goatee, but she recognized the insolent grin immediately. Until now, she hadn’t even known his name.
“He was at the bar Friday night. He talked to me.”
“Oh I know all about it,” Josh said. “He was on TV the other night, blabbing to a reporter about your little interlude.”
“Fortunately I missed that.”
“He talked about sharing a drink—”
“We didn’t share—”
“Bragged about his ‘brush with death.’ If news reports are correct, he was back at that same bar last night retelling the story.”
“So what? He’s milking his fifteen minutes. There’s no cause to panic over—”
“I wouldn’t be panicked if he hadn’t turned up dead!”
Her heart tripped. “What?”
“Murdered, Jordie. Murdered. I thought you were watching TV.”
“I am. I—”
“He was found shot in the head. It happened after he left the bar where he had an audience while boasting about meeting you. Now do you understand why I’m panicked?”
On the screen now was video showing a pickup truck. Its windshield was blood-spattered. It was in a woodsy setting surrounded by crime scene tape, squad cars, and uniformed men.
“That’s awful,” she murmured. “But he probably got into an argument with someone last night. I’m sure his murder had nothing to do with me.”
“Are you stupid?” Josh shouted.
“How could it involve me?”
“Before I called you, they were interviewing this hairy, tattooed bartender. He said Royce Sherman was acting like a big shot, bragging about the role he’d played in the ‘Panella-Bennett case.’ That’s how they phrased it.”
“That’s what it is, Josh.”
“Don’t tell me this guy’s murder has nothing to do with you. With us.” He made a choking sound. “I’m never going to get away from him, am I?”