us. Her eyes were cold. “Either Jan’s uncle sent you, like you say, or you’re here for Riordan and lying about it. I don’t care. What I want to know is whether you’re going to make people stop dying. Do you know what you’re doing, or are you going to string us along until you can run?”
An interrogation over lunch—just what I always wanted. “We’re here by order of Duke Sylvester Torquill, and yes, we’re staying until it’s over.”
“Brave souls. Stupid, but brave. How long before your little boy runs back to the nursery? We probably don’t meet his lofty standards.”
“At least I have standards,” Quentin snapped.
“Quentin, be quiet. I don’t see you going anywhere, Gordan. Why should we?”
She smiled again, bitterly this time. “Where would I go? This is my home.” She had a point. That didn’t explain why she was being so nasty to Quentin.
“You’re right,” I said. “So, since you’re a native, care to share any ideas you might have on who could have done this?”
“What?” She laughed. “Not one. I’d blame Yui if she hadn’t been the second one down—the little fox always had a vicious turn of mind. But no. We’re down to the dregs, and none of the chumps we have left would have the brains to start killing people.”
“Not one of them?”
“No.” She put her notebook down, looking disgusted. “Let’s guess. You’re expecting me to think for a minute and then go ‘Hmmm, Alex is very quiet except for his collection of ice picks and hammers,’ aren’t you? You hoping to get this wrapped up before the commercials?”
“Actually, no. I just wanted your opinion.”
“My opinion? Fine: you’re wasting your time if you’re looking for a killer in this company. We’re a family.”
“Does that go for the ones that have run out on you?”
“Maybe they ran, but that just means they had something to live for. It doesn’t mean they betrayed us. If you want to find a killer, look outside. Or don’t bother, and die here with the rest of us.” She picked up her fork, jabbing it into a piece of cantaloupe. “Send the kid home if you decide to do that. Dying would mess up his hair.”
Quentin glared at her, but focused on his chips. Good boy. I picked up my coffee, saying, “You’re a little pessimistic.”
“Am I? Wow, I’m sorry. Try having all your friends die or run and see how cheery you are.” Her eyes narrowed. “You come down here with your little pureblood squire and say you want to ‘help.’ Yeah, right. That won’t last. In the end, you’ll run scared like the others.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I shrugged. “And he’s not my squire, just my friend.”
“Funny taste in friends.” Gordan stood, tucking her notebook under her arm. “I hope you’re a better judge of murder scenes than you are of people.” She turned and stalked away, not bothering to say good-bye.
“That’s not fair,” Quentin said. “She’s the one insulting us, and she gets to walk away?”
“Dramatic exits are the last refuge of the infantile personality,” I said. “Now drink your soda and help me think of nasty names to call her next time she shows up.”
“All right.” Not even being insulted could make him lose his appetite: he was eating his chips with astonishing speed and was starting to filch pieces of fruit cocktail off Gordan’s abandoned tray. Good for him.
“Told you that you were hungry,” I said, earning an amused snort from Quentin. I ignored my lunch in favor of propping my chin on my knuckles and sipping my coffee. Gordan disliked Quentin on sight. She might just be prejudiced—some changelings really hate purebloods—but that didn’t explain how she justified working for Jan.
Alex reached the table, pushing Gordan’s now-empty tray aside to make room for his own. “Whoa!” he said, spotting our expressions. “Was the coffee that bad?”
“We just had a nice talk with Gordan,” I said.
“Gordan, huh?” Alex sighed, brushing his bangs back with one hand. They immediately flopped back over his eyes. “I’m sorry. She’s always been a little . . .”
“Nasty?” Quentin said.
“I was going to say ‘sharp,’ but if you want to go with nasty, we can work with that. It’s not her fault.”
“So whose fault is it?” I asked. “The Tooth Fairy?”
Alex shook his head. “No, I mean it—it’s not her fault. Barbara was her best friend. Losing her . . . I’m surprised Gordan’s holding up as well as she is. That’s all.”
Some information has the effect of making me feel