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of wearing red satin to her wedding is a danger to herself and the community.”

“I heard on the news that they found over a hundred scrolls in his wine cellar. Scrolls

written in blood by people selling their souls to the Devil.” Natalie’s eyes sparkled with

ghoulish delight. Come to think of it, maybe she was a good fit for the bookstore.

“Fifty-six,” I said. “They didn’t just sign their souls away. They signed off on property,

making Garibaldi the beneficiary of their wills.”

“So bizarre.”

Lauren, who had been rather subdued all day – pining perhaps for her missing, life-

sized Ken doll – said, “Human sacrifice. That’s the part I can’t believe. And in Bel Air, of all

places. How many people did they kill to honor their so-called demon?”

“Who knows? So far they’ve confessed to five, including the girl they left at Angus’s to

try and implicate him.”

“He was already implicated,” Lisa reminded me too sweetly.

I ignored this. Over at the piano, Emma began “My Favorite Things” yet again.

“He was obviously insane,” Bill said. “Oliver, I mean. It’s amazing he never showed any

sign of it. You wouldn’t believe the genius the man had for business.”

I opened my mouth, but thought better of it.

“Adrien, you look so much like your father,” Lisa said suddenly.

The rest of them studied me with interest. Bill reached over, poured me another shot

from the bottle of his magic elixir Laphroaig.

Lisa prattled on. “It’s uncanny. Of course, he has my eyes. And my nose. And my

hands. And he gets his love of the arts from me.”

I bit my tongue – one of the two things I was truly sure were my own.

The phone rang, mercifully halting what appeared to be the “Chopsticks” version of

“My Favorite Things.”

Natalie said brightly, “I guess we’ll see all the details on Sixty Minutes .”

“There’s a guy on the phone asking for you,” Emma called.

Before I had time to acknowledge the surge of disbelieving hope, she corrected herself.

“I mean his name is Guy.” She was smiling, finding that amusing.

How had Snowden managed to track me here? Witchcraft?

Emma waited at the phone like a junior PA, ready to jettison this unsolicited call if I

said the word.

I glanced around. Everyone in the room seemed to be looking at me, smiling at me,

waiting for me to decide.

Oh, well, what the hell.

I took the call.

Josh Lanyon

Josh Lanyon is the author of three Adrien English mystery novels. THE HELL YOU

SAY was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award and is the winner of the 2006

USABookNews awards for GLBT fiction. Josh lives in Los Angeles, California, and is

currently at work on the fourth book in the series, DEATH OF A PIRATE KING.

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