Page 114 of Line of Sight

He picked up his glass of beer, and I assumed that was the small talk over with.

Apparently not.

“I always wondered how plausible it really was—to have two strangers meet and swap murders.”

Okay, now he was talking my language.

I smiled once more, only this time with more warmth. “All you’d need would be the right circumstances and the right two people.” I cocked my head. “Where are you off to?”

Any conversation was better than staring at Samuel Adams for the next hour.

“Vegas. I flew in from Toronto about an hour ago. Got two hours before my next flight leaves.” The slight slur told me he’d had a lot more to drink than I had.

“And I’m on my waytoToronto. Do you live there?”

“No, I live here in Boston. My wife lives there.” His scowl told me plenty.

All was not well, it seemed, in my fellow passenger’s world.

My self-interest kicked in.

I gestured to the empty chair facing me. “Why don’t you join me?”

He brightened at that. “Thanks. I hate airports.” He moved seats, then slumped, nursing his own beer.

“Why Vegas?”

He shrugged. “I like to play the slots, play cards….”

“And are you any good at it?”

That scowl was back. “Not according to my soon-to-be ex-wife.” He snorted. “Not soon enough.”

I let him ramble on, and the words came tumbling out. He wasn’t bad at gambling—he was terrible—and with so many debts he couldn’t see his way forward.

“Maybe a rich relative will die and leave you a fortune,” I suggested.

He let out another snort. “Yeah, that’d be nice, except I don’t have any rich relatives.” Then he chuckled. “Now, if thewifeup and dies, that’d be a different story.”

“How so?”

He grinned. “Insurance.”

And suddenly the conversation had taken a new and interesting turn.

I tapped the book. “You remember the plot? They swap murders, and then there’s nothing to connect either of them to the crime?”

He nodded.

I drank a little more. “But I bet you couldn’t do that.” I lowered my voice. “You couldn’t kill anyone, could you?”

He stared at me. “If it meant I got to dig my way outta this fuckin’ hole I’m in? You’d better believe I could kill someone.” He drained his glass.

“Let me buy you another.” Before he could refuse, I signaled the server and ordered two more. Then I leaned back and waited.

Come on. Come on.

He squinted at me. “You don’t look like the kinda guy who could kill. I mean, seeing the way you dress.”