I shook my head. "Unh-unh. Not me."
She started to cry. "I thought you wanted us to get together!"
Feeling like a louse, I turned to look down at Willy. "She says I've got to kill you."
"How?"
Red had come to the edge of the drawing desk. "What does it matter, how?" she said sternly. "You know perfectly well that the only way to get rid of the body you're in is to die." She looked back at me. "What are you waiting for?"
I rubbed my head. "Somehow it doesn't seem—"
She sat back and wailed. Willy jumped from the floor and cupped her tenderly in his hands. "Don't cry, sweet. After all, it is asking a lot of Jim."
"He gave us the solution," she cried, "and now he's backing out of his part in it!"
"Well," said Willy, "he wasn't expected to know he'd have to kill me—"