"I mean you've been played for an all-time sucker," said Kintyre. "It's pure luck—the Michaelises just happened to become Patsy Number One—that you haven't been arrested on suspicion of murder. So far."
He heard Corinna gasp. Guido seemed too drained to understand.
"Another thing," said Kintyre. "What's between you and Gerald Clayton?"
"Clayton?" The empty eyes blinked from the bed. "Clayton. Oh, him. Nothing."
"Are you certain?"
"We talked for a while, up at his pad. Bruce took me there. So finally he gave me the polite brush-off and I came on over here to do my show. Bruce stayed."
"That's all? You're sure?"
"For a long time, anyway. I met him once before—months and months ago—just social like—" Guido's tones dribbled to silence.
Kintyre rubbed his chin. "That seems to let Clayton off," he said. "If, to be sure, our friend here is telling the truth."
"He is," said Corinna. Turning, Kintyre saw her inhumanly composed. "I know him. He can't be lying now."