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Beau made a sound of harsh amusement. “This is not trouble. You winding up dead on my watch? That would be trouble.”

“Not good for the crime stats.” Archie agreed wearily. He sank down on the side of the bed, and rubbed his face.

He could feel Beau’s steady, unblinking stare, but couldn’t summon the energy to challenge it.

After a moment, Beau said, “You’re too tired to think. Let alone talk.”

Archie glanced up. “If you want to talk, talk. Until tonight, I didn’t know you thought there was anything left to say.”

Beau’s lip curled. “Right. Is that why you never returned my phone calls? You figured I didn’t have anything to say?”

“I figured you’d already made yourself pretty goddamned clear. I got the message the first time around.”

Anyway, it wasn’t like there had been so many phone calls. Two at most.

Beau frowned, opened his mouth, then shook his head. “We’ll leave it there. For now. We’ve both got bigger problems to deal with. And, yeah, I know you hate anyone ever thinking you need help or that you don’t have everything under control, but if you do plan on sticking around, you’re going to have to take a step back from this investigation.”

Archie gave him a look of disbelief. “If I stepped back any farther back, I’d be in D.C.”

“Come off it.”

“I’m telling you; I called around to verify Azizi’s whereabouts, attended the reading of John’s will, and sat for an interview with Twinkleton’s finest. That’s the extent of my interference.”

“Not the impression you’re giving. Clearly.”

“I don’t care if it’s the impression I’m giving. It’s the truth. And you know it’s the truth because I’m pretty sure you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

Beau raised his brows like, Oh, really?

Archie said, “That’s the impression you’ve been giving.”

Beau’s mouth half-curved, he shrugged. “You’re not under surveillance.”

“Not officially. Not unless Scarlett’s on your payroll.”

Beau looked amused. “She does think you’re a suspicious character.”

Archie said irritably, “Well, she’s wrong. There is no one less suspicious than me.”

Beau said wonderingly, “That must be hard, you being an FBI agent and all.”

Honest to God. Did Beau find this funny?

Archie opened his mouth, but Beau was once again all business. “The point is, somehow, you’ve managed to make yourself a target. Maybe because you’re poking around, however ineffectively, maybe, probably, because you’re a convenient scapegoat.”

All Archie heard was the word ineffective.

“And what have you managed to accomplish so far, Chief?”

“Are you kidding me? John died Saturday night. I’ve had two days—”

“The first forty-eight hours,” Archie countered.

Beau’s face darkened. “Don’t throw the fucking first forty-eight at me! You think I don’t know how crucial the first forty-eight are?”

“I’ve wondered. Seeing how much time you’ve wasted questioning me. Out of curiosity, how many homicides have you solved?”

“Three,” Beau bit out. “How many have you solved?”