“I don’t particularly like the direction this conversation is taking, Miss Dimity.”
“When a gentleman comes calling on a lady,” she said with a vigor few realized she possessed, “she is entitled to discuss any subject she cares to. I’m curious to know if you did love your wife?”
“So to honor her memory, you took to killing?”
He came slowly toward her — big, powerful, frightening. When he stopped before her chair, the black gunbelt boasting the long-barreled Colt .45s was on the level with Dimity’s eyes. She expected rage, perhaps even violence, yet when he spoke, his voice revealed only pain.
“What else was there to do but kill?”