Trust Me

that I had a problem on my hands.”
    Stark looked at Tony. “What, exactly, is the nature of this problem?”
    “Someone planted a gun in Tony’s apartment while he was out of town,” Desdemona said. “We have a hunch it may be the thirty-eight that killed Vernon Tate.”
    “You don’t say,” Stark murmured.
    Tony’s lips thinned in fury.
    “What did you do with the gun?” Stark asked.
    “I took a ferry ride to Bainbridge a couple of hours ago,” Tony said in a low voice. “Halfway across Elliott Bay, I threw the gun overboard.”
    “Did you get rid of any other useful evidence while you were at it?” Stark asked politely.
    “Bastard.”
    Desdemona ignored the byplay. “I think Tony’s right about one thing. It’s beginning to appear that someone may be trying to set him up for Vernon’s murder. First, he’s lured out of town so that it appears he’s fled the scene of the crime. His absence also gave the killer a chance to hide the murder weapon in his apartment. Then that blackmail note appears on my computer.”
    Tony looked up. “What blackmail note?”
    “Remember that lost work file you helped me retrieve?” Desdemona asked.
    “Yeah. What about it?”
    “I thought it was just gibberish. But it turned out to be an encrypted blackmail note.”
    “Says who?” Tony asked.
    “Stark says so. He decoded it.”
    “Is that a fact?” Tony gave Stark a belligerent glare. “Maybe he just invented it to suit his own purposes. If the original message was gibberish, how would you know if he faked a blackmail note from it?”
    Desdemona raised her eyes briefly toward heaven. “Let’s not start up with the gratuitous insults again. We’ve got more important things to do here. Now, then, pay attention, both of you. Stark, I’m very glad you followed me tonight. It will save a lot of time.”
    Stark raised his brows. “Will it?”
    “Of course.” Desdemona sat down again. “I was going to explain everything to you just as soon as I had talked to Tony, anyway.”
    “Were you?” Stark asked in a dangerously even voice.
    “Don’t talk to her like that,” Tony snarled.
    Desdemona frowned. “I know you’re both still overloaded with testosterone because of the recent physical violence, but I would appreciate it if you would control the hormones for a while. I’m trying to move this meeting forward.”
    “You call this a meeting?” Stark asked.
    “For want of a better word.” Desdemona crossed her legs and eyed the two men. “Let’s recap. We’ve got a weird situation here. Someone apparently hired Vernon Tate to steal ARCANE from Stark. Vernon made the attempt the night of the reception. He failed. The next thing we know, poor Vernon is dead, and there is a blackmail note aimed at his so-called client left on my computer.”
    Tony’s brows drew together. “Why was the note left on your computer?”
    “That’s obvious,” Desdemona said. “Whoever left it wanted to make it appear that you were Vernon’s client. The one who had paid him to steal ARCANE.”
    “Shit,” Tony muttered. “And now the damned gun in my apartment. I knew it. A setup.”
    “There’s a simpler explanation.” Stark bestirred himself to walk the short distance to the nearest wall. He propped one shoulder against it. “It could be the truth.”
    “Bastard,” Tony said.
    Desdemona glowered at both of them. “I do not want to hear another unproductive word. Is that clear?”
    Tony and Stark looked at her. Neither said anything.
    “That’s better.” Desdemona composed her thoughts. “Now, then, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, it’s apparent that someone killed Vernon and then deliberately set out to make Tony look guilty. The killer was probably Vernon’s mysterious client. Do we all agree so far?”
    “It’s a theory,” Tony said grudgingly. “But if we buy that, we have to ask why the so-called client bothered to kill Tate.”
    Stark lifted one shoulder in a negligent movement. “It’s possible that Tate actually had identified him and really was threatening to blackmail him.”
    “On my computer?” Desdemona asked quickly.
    Stark seemed reluctant to continue with the line of reasoning he had begun. Desdemona got the distinct impression that he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
    “Maybe the real blackmail note wasn’t sent on your computer,” he said grudgingly. “It’s possible that the client did get one from Vernon, but he probably received it the same