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“Not so far.”

“Is Millard denying him his phone call?”

“Of course not. Quinn had his phone call.”

“Who did he call?”

Ruthanne didn’t answer. If possible, her expression grew more exasperated.

“If he doesn’t have a lawyer, I’m going to find one for him,” Andy told her. “And if he does have a lawyer, I need to talk to him.”

She let out a long breath. “I don’t know what’s happening as far as Quinn’s legal representation. His phone call was to an unregistered number with a reserved area code.”

Andy sat back in the booth, studying Ruthanne. “Hopefully, he didn’t misdial.”

“He didn’t misdial. He spoke to someone.”

He considered, said slowly, “Okay. Thank you.”

Ruthanne shook her head. “Don’t thank me.”

The waitress approached their table and asked to take Andy’s order.

“He’s not staying,” Ruthanne said.

Where did he even start?

Should he begin with arranging his own legal defense? Should he start tracking down Uncle C.’s insurance company? Should he contact a crime-scene cleanup company? Had anyone notified Marcus’s mother? Not that Andy wanted to make that call, but someone should. God. What about the funeral? Was that still his responsibility? When would Marcus’s body be released to his loved ones?

Lost in thought, he made his way around the building and down the slippery sidewalk to the small, muddy parking area behind Pat’s Place. He didn’t notice he had company until someone spoke from right behind him.

“Mr. Allison?”

Andy glanced around, startled by the sight of the trim little man in the green fedora. With everything else going on he had almost—almost—forgotten about the reason Quinn had been dragged into all this in the first place.

“Mr. Sirius?”

Sirius’s expression changed. “Ah.You know me. Very good. Now I believe we’re getting somewhere.”

“Probably not as far as you think,” Andy said.

Sirius ignored that. “Before things get any messier, don’t you think we should have a chat?”

Chapter Twenty-One

“We can chat all you want,” Andy replied. “But I don’t have what you’re looking for.”

He was trying to decide if leaving this conversation was a good idea or even an option. Sirius wasn’t openly threatening him. Was he armed, or was it all attitude? There was something indefinably menacing about the way he stood there, blocking Andy’s retreat.

On the other hand, talking this out might lead to a resolution. At the very least, it might clue Andy in to what the hell was going on. In his experience, most problems were solved through communication. Though, admittedly, trying to discuss things with Marcus hadn’t gotten him far.

Sirius said, “You know where to get it, though.”

“I’m not even sure whatitis.”

Sirius’s black eyes narrowed. “Be warned, Mr. Allison, I’m not one who enjoys games.”

“This isn’t a game to me. This is… My uncle is in the hospital. My… Another man is dead. I want this to be over. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get rid of y—er, to put an end to this situation. But I have to know what it is, to get you what you want.”