This story started here.
The search was very thorough, and starling did not react. Her gaze remained steadily on my face, and I was sure that the slightest wrong move on my part would have resulted in a bullet through my head.
"No ammunition," my employer said. "No other guns. Now, if you're thinking that she reloaded the revolver after shooting it the first time, that would require me to believe that Katherine came here with one loose bullet in her pocket for that purpose. Since I am not an imbecile, I find that hard to believe. So, this was a setup, the whole thing.
"Someone wanted to kill Barney, I have no idea why, and that person wanted a scapegoat. Someone who would be blamed, someone who would not get the benefit of the doubt, someone who people would just assume was guilty. So, what can we say about this plan? That it depended entirely on Katherine's presence here today. Now, Pete, I believe you are not a part of this band. Is that true?"
He nodded, lighting a cigarette. "I am not. I just came to jam."
"So, even Pete's participation was not a certain thing. Katherine, when Pete gets together with other musicians to play, do you always accompany him?"
She shook her head. "Not always. It depends if I feel like it, and sometimes they don't want me there."
"So, the question is who got Pete involved, and who wanted you–"
That was as far as she got. Katherine turned, grabbed Foster's hand, slammed it against the wall. She pulled a large knife from somewhere inside her coat and drove it through his hand, pinning him to the wall.
Then, as he screamed, she stepped back, folded her arms, and looked at him.