Chapter 7

cardigan slept late the next morning, then went out on his customary 4-mile run. following a brisk shower, he was grinding coffee beans when his phone rang. it was sierra. "what's up, charles?"

"cardigan, i need to talk to you. can we meet? now?"

"now? i haven't even had my coffee yet, charles. can't it wait a couple of hours? we talked last night, remember? why the urgency?"

she hesitated. "last night i thought james was alive."

"what happened?" cardigan sounded urgent now.

"he was murdered early this morning. shot."

the gears in cardigan's head were grinding. "why are you so jumpy about this, charles? what are you not telling me?"

another pause. "he was shot behind the wheel of a car. my car. the police have already been here for a statement."

cardigan kept his cool. barely. "where do you want to meet, charles? you've got some 'splaning to do."