Page 31 of By Any Means

“Yes! I remember sayin’ so. Scotch-Irish, out of the Catskills. I was tellin’ you true.” Laurie crouched, not taking his eyes off the maniac before him, and groped behind him for the gun.

Chary had gone white. “Don’t,” he breathed.

“Criminy! Calm down.” Laurie unloaded fast, smelling metal, gun grease, copper, but the bullets that fell into his palm were suspiciously light, small, crimped on the end. No lead.

“Holy Jesus,” he cursed. “Blanks? An’ you said I have a death wish?”

He went to the solitary window—thank god for tenement regulations. He threw the blanks in opposite directions into the courtyard, as hard as he could. “Although at point-blank range, I guess it’s moot. Shit, I hate guns. For God’s sake.”

Chary stared, which told Laurie his vowels had probably gone long. He laughed weakly. “You sound like my great-grand-mam.”

Laurie grunted. Adrenaline was draining from him slowly, leaving his knees to ache where they’d trembled. At least he hadn’t pissed himself.

He paused. “Wright’s a Scotch name, isn’t it.”

Chary nodded. “Third generation.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I wouldn’t have sh-shot you,” Chary whispered. “And I didn’t kill my brother.”

“Jesus. Then don’t be so convincing about it; you almost did. You almost shot yourself,” Laurie added, thinking about it.

“You—you said— A man will say anything under a gun, or so I’ve heard.” Chary took a deep breath. “But yes, I knew he was with Mr. Raberding. I didn’t kill him for it. For god’s sake. What a hypocrite I’d be.”

“But not the merger? You sure about that? What else did you know? Did you know he was a thief?”

Chary made a noise, hastily swallowed.

“Did he steal from you, Chary? Take something of yours or from Wright Glass?”

Chary turned even paler. Closer, closer. Laurie pressed on. “Did you know he took it straight to Tjofabier Raberding? Or let’s see. Did you know that he was conspiring with your direct competitor to innovate the business without you? Are you sure about all of that?”

Chary stepped forward, fists clenched, shoulders tight, extending every inch of his wax-bean height. What, Laurie thought, was the likelihood of the man concealing another pistol? Small? Middling?

“About which bit am I sure, exactly? Are you saying I have reason to have— You cannot honestly be accusing me of anyone’s murder. Are you a reporter or the police? August’s dead, but I didn’t kill him or anybody else. His death was accidental. You know all of this. I have said it thrice.”

“Oh, that makes it true,” Laurie mocked.

“The whole of Manhattan knows it. His death ran in every paper! It was well publicized!” Chary backed to sit on the bed, his long legs falling to either side as the mattress sank. “I think you are being needlessly mean. No, in fact, I didn’t know any of that. I didn’t know men had died. I did not know August was planning to merge with Raberding. That they had plans of that kind. But if that would’ve saved him, I’d have welcomed it. He could’ve had the whole thing if it could’ve prevented what happened.” He put his head in his hands.

This was heartfelt, and Laurie, for some reason, believed it. For his part, he felt something almost like regret.

“I’m sorry for your brother. I am.”

“Are you? My lord.” Chary gave a teary, rueful laugh. “I don’t know how you’re still alive. Honestly. Is this how you interview? Manhandling and threats? Bravado under gunpoint? Shocking revelation?”

Laurie sat himself back on the vanity chair. It was not built for comfort. “No. I’m an investigative reporter—undercover most of the time. Usually, I get cozy, one way or another, and folks just talk.”

Chary had blinked at cozy. “Undercover? Are you one of those hired detectives—for the committees against vice?”

“Again,” Laurie said, offended, “none of that. Suspicious deaths aren’t my usual. I’m not a detective.” Evil, blackmailing bastards. “Just a reporter. Anyway, nobody’s gonna come swinging at you for vices.”

“I keep telling you.”

They watched each other warily.

“So, you must be from the rags,” Chary said. “The World? Or the Police Gazette?”