Louis was ahead of the woman all the way. He had parked at a meter, just outside the store, so as soon as she was out of sight he left cash for his wine and returned to his car. Angel had already taken care of the house alarm earlier in the day, once he was certain that William Daund was committed to his tutorials. It meant that when Zilla Daund entered the house, Louis was waiting for her. She said only one word as she set her bag down, Louis’s suppressed .22 inches from her head.

‘Fuck.’

‘I prefer “fucked”,’ said Louis. ‘And just for the record, you’re wrong about Maxwell Perkins.’

He closed the front door with his foot, and took a step back from her.

‘You know what this is about?’ he asked.

‘The hit in Maine.’

‘Someone told you to expect trouble?’

‘We knew from the aftershock, but we got a call.’

‘Cambion?’

She didn’t respond.

‘Not that it’s any consolation, but he told us about you as well,’ said Louis. ‘Not everything, but a start.’

‘Like you say, we got fucked.’

‘Yes, you did. Drop the bag.’

A big purse hung from her left shoulder. He’d watched her as she drank her wine earlier, so he knew that she was righthanded, even before she’d spoken to him with that hand concealed, probably holding a weapon aimed at him. He figured she had at least one gun on her person, and maybe another in the purse.

‘If you’re armed, you better tell me now.’

‘In my purse.’

‘But not your right coat pocket?’

‘Oops.’

Louis stepped back and told her to let the coat fall from body. It landed with a heavy thud on the wood floor.

‘You got anything else?’

‘You’re welcome to frisk me.’

‘We’re below the Mason–Dixon line. Us colored folks got to be careful with the white women down here. I’d prefer it if you just told me.’

‘Left side, on the belt.’

‘You expecting war to break out?’

‘We live in a dangerous world.’

She was wearing a loose-fitting cardigan under a light jacket, the kind that would easily cover a gun.

‘Use your left hand,’ Louis said. ‘Thumb and index finger only. Slowly.’

Zilla Daund lowered her left hand, pushed aside her jacket with her forearm, and used the palm of her hand to raise the cardigan, exposing the gun. It looked like a little hammerless S&W 642 in a .38 Special.

‘This is awkward,’ she said. ‘The holster’s tight.’

He saw her tense, and was a second ahead of her. She was fast, twisting her body at the same time as she raised her right hand to lash out at him, but by then Louis was already bringing the butt of his gun down on her right temple. He followed her to the floor, wrenching the .38 from its holster and tossing it aside. She was stunned, but conscious. He kept the gun at the base of her neck while he pulled her jacket and cardigan to her elbows, trapping her arms, then patted her down. Her jeans were skintight, but he still checked them for a blade. He released her when he was done, and watched as she rearranged her clothing. He found her phone and handed it to her.

‘Call your husband,’ he said.

‘Why?’

She looked dazed, but he thought that she might have been exaggerating for his benefit. He allowed her to sit up with her back against the wall, although he insisted that she keep her legs outstretched and her hands away from her body. It would make it harder for her to raise herself up if she tried to attack him again. Louis was under no illusions about how dangerous this woman was.

‘Because I know that you called your husband after you spoke to me at the bookstore. My guess is that he’s expecting the all-clear.’

Angel had called Louis when he was within sight of the house to tell him that William Daund was on the move. ‘Let him come,’ had been Louis’s instruction.

Louis waited while she went to her ‘Recent Calls’ and found ‘Bill’. He let the gun touch her left temple as her finger hovered over the call button.

‘If I was aware that your husband was coming, then you understand I’m not working alone. Your husband is being followed. If you say anything to alert him, we’ll know. This doesn’t have to end badly for you.’

She stared at him. Any after effects, real or feigned, of the blow to her head were now almost entirely gone.

‘We both know that’s not true,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen your face.’

‘Ma’am,’ said Louis, ‘right now you have no idea just how much worse this could get for you and your family.’

It was the mention of her family that did it. This wasn’t just about her and her husband.

‘Fuck,’ she said again, softly.

‘You were that concerned about the safety of your boys, maybe you should have picked another line of work,’ said Louis. ‘Make the call. Raise the volume, but don’t put it on speaker.’

She did as she was told. Louis listened.

‘Zill?’ said her husband.

‘I’m home,’ she said. ‘But we still need to talk.’

‘I’m on my way. No more over the phone.’

‘Okay. Just be quick.’

The call ended.

‘Zill and Bill,’ said Louis. ‘Cute.’

She didn’t reply. He could see her calculating, trying to figure out what moves were open to her. Seconds later, Louis’s phone buzzed.

‘Angel.’

‘He’s about five minutes from you.’

‘Stay as close as you can.’

‘Got it.’

Louis continued to point the gun at Zilla Daund.

‘Crawl into the kitchen on your belly,’ he said. ‘Do it.’

‘What?’

‘If you try to get to your feet I’ll kill you.’

‘You’re an animal.’

‘Now you’re just being hurtful,’ said Louis. ‘Kitchen.’

He stayed behind her as she crawled, keeping the gun on her all the way. The kitchen was mostly walnut, with a matching table and four chairs at the center. When Zilla Daund reached the table, Louis told her to get up slowly and take a seat facing the door. He removed a cup from a shelf and placed it in front of her. The kitchen extended the width of the house, with a connecting door leading to a big living room with a dining area at one end. Between the table and the connecting door was a refrigerator and a glass-fronted cabinet filled with canned goods. It was there that Louis took up position. He couldn’t see the front door, but he could see the woman.

The sound of a car pulling up came from the front of the house. About a minute later there was the sound of a key in the door. This was the moment. This was when Zilla Daund would warn her husband.

The door opened. Three things happened almost simultaneously.

Zilla Daund screamed her husband’s name and threw herself to the kitchen floor.

William Daund raised the gun that was already in his hand and prepared to fire.

And Angel appeared behind William Daund and killed him with a single suppressed shot to the back of the head. Angel then proceeded into the house and closed the door behind him. He didn’t look at Daund’s body as he stepped over it. It was not callousness. He just didn’t want to see what he had done. He checked the street from the living room window, but there was no indication that anyone had witnessed what had occurred. Then again, they wouldn’t know for sure unless the cops arrived on the doorstep. This had to be quick.

When he joined Louis in the kitchen, Zilla Daund was standing by the utility room. She was under Louis’s gun, but she had a big kitchen knife in her hand. On whom she intended to try to use it wasn’t clear, but turning it on anyone in that room, including herself, wouldn’t be a positive turn of events.

‘You were only ever going to let one of us live,’ she said.

‘No,’ said Louis. ‘Neither of you was ever going to live. The first one into the house was just going to live longer.’

Zilla Daund turned the knife in her hand, and placed the tip of it against her throat.

‘You’ll leave with nothing,’ she said.

‘Before you do that,’ said Louis, ‘you ought to call your son.’