Page 9 of Conrad

“Listen—I know the working theory is that Kyle Brunley killed Sarah Livingston in an act of passion, but hedidcare about her. They were lifelong friends. I believe the information he gave me was real, that he was trying to help me find her real killer—who I think is a man named Swindle. More, that information also implicated Swindle in a slew of other crimes?—”

“Like the death of your sister’s fiancé.”

How he knew that, she didn’t know, but a lot had gone down at the Kingston wedding fiasco, so who knew what she’d said? “Yes.” She sighed. “I need that information. And Beckett is the gatekeeper.”

He glanced at the door where Beckett had disappeared. “Okay.” Then he turned and headed across the room.

What?She followed him. “Where are you?—”

Conrad pushed out into the hallway. There, at the end, sat the bathrooms.

The hallway was empty. He handed her the glass of wine, scooped up the last appetizer, popped it into his mouth, then entered the men’s room.

She stood in the hall, not sure what to do.

A second later, the door opened. Conrad popped his head out. “All clear.”

All . . . clear?

He held the door open. “Now or never.”

Right.She stepped inside the room.

Beckett stood at the sink, his shirt saturated as he tried to wash it. He glanced up at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t think murder is something to be kidding about. And if you’re hiding information that implicates your client, that makes you an accessory.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He turned off the water, his shirt pink.

“Yes, it does. If you hold information that suggests more crimes will be committed, you’re legally bound to turn it over.”

Beckett had reached for towels, was vainly trying to dry the shirt.

Penelope grabbed a couple more, held them out to him. “Since I’ve been investigating this case, I’ve been kidnapped and seen two men shot and people murdered. So it’s a fair guess that whatever Swindle is up to, it’s not over.”

He stilled at her words. Frowned. Swiped the towels from her. “Kyle wasn’t murdered.”

“Tell that to his car, the one upside down in the ditch with side-swipe dents on it. But it wasn’t the crash that killed him.” She handed the wineglass back to Conrad. “I’d blame the 9mm JHP bullet in his chest. But whatever.”

He swallowed.

“Sarah’s apartment was looted, her first computer stolen three months before her death. That’s when she gave Kyle the jump drive. And then she was killed. Whatever was on that jump drive is incriminating enough to kill for.” She cocked her head. “Still want to hold on to it?”

His mouth tightened. Opened.

And right then, a patron walked into the room, past Conrad. He stopped, glanced at Penelope, then the two men, and froze.

Beckett pushed past him, fleeing. She turned to go after him, dodging the man and?—

Bam!Right into Conrad, standing in the doorway.

Oh, she was clumsy tonight. The wine splashed down the front of Conrad’s shirt, soaking his torso.

He held out the wineglass, looked at her.

“Sorry.”

The patron had also fled.

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