“I remember what happened in the trial.” I said. “It’d be funny, if it’d happened to anyone but me. The whole reason I’d killed Elg was because he was blackmailing my boyfriend at the time. He’d borrowed some money from him. Betting. Terrible habit. And he was having trouble paying it back. Especially after insurance wouldn’t cover the damage I’d done to his car.” I chuckled. “Oh. That’s how we’d met. I hit him with my car.”

Cykes put it together fairly quickly. “Your boyfriend—”

“His name was Furio Tigre. Yes. What a funny name, wouldn’t you say? He wasn’t a loan shark, for the record. Or red. Or anything like the spiky-haired lawyer.”

“You killed Elg for his sake, then?”

“Yes. And I was prepared to be exposed for it, too. I was horrified to find out that the waitress went down for what happened. I would’ve probably turned myself in then and there, had a re-trial not occurred. That was a silver lining. I thought there was still a chance. The waitress is proven innocent due to lack of sufficient evidence, while the true culprit is never found. Unfortunately…”

“…The spiky-haired lawyer was cleverer than you could’ve ever imagined.”

“Swear to God, felt like I was talkin’ to a ghost just now!” I laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, he was clever. Left me shaking in my boots and everything. I was sweating. Not meeting eye contact. On the brink of tearing myself apart, when…” I shook my head. “…He busts in. Furio. Busts in with all his macho shit and says: ‘I did it!’ And the crowd goes WILD. How? What? When? Why? All the while I’m just standing there, thinking: ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Barely even glanced my way. Must’ve been in the gallery the whole timing, waiting for his moment. Bastard.”

“How’d he explain it?”

“Pft. Barely explained anything. Lawyer asks him question after question he can’t answer. How could he? Wasn’t even there! And I—I’m still just standing there, completely lost. Broken. And I realize that I ruined the man’s life. Once he talks about his relationship with me, Grandfather was inevitably gonna have a talk with him, and let me tell you – Grandfather didn’t like writers. Grandfather was the only storyteller around, you hear?” I lit another cigarette. “And I realize – this is it. This is the chaos my life has caused. And I – I pull out my eye and just decide: ‘To hell with it. This’ll at least shut him up before he makes a bigger fool of himself.’ And bam. Down I went.”

“And then…” Cykes murmured.

“Then, only thing we can do is imagine. But it’s not a far toss. Word of the whole mess gets back to Grandfather. Grandfather visits me in the hospital. Realizes I’ve completely bleached out the past few months of my memory. Knows he can cover up the stabbing, but that he still needs to sell me some kind of story. He also knows he can’t entirely distance me from the case. But he can recontextualize it. This ‘Furio Tigre’ wants to be the big man and take the fall? Let him. A week later, the transcript is changed, everyone threatened to keep their mouth shut, and if anyone checks – not that anyone was gonna – you read that transcript, and the one thing you’re certain of? Don’t mess with the Cadaverinis. Viola Cadaverini? She helped poison a dude for big bucks. Viola Cadaverini? She was gonna have Furio Tigre killed for the way he screwed her over. Viola Cadaverini? She’s the type of chick you roll the red carpet for and pray to God she doesn’t like you.”

I sighed. “If you dug a little deeper and found out about the stabbing, well. The only one who hadn’t been paid off for it would likely be a Cadaverini. And if a Cadaverini talked about that, he was as good as dead.”

“I still don’t understand.” She rubbed her eye. “Why… such an unbelievable story? With the cardboard badge, and the fifty disguises and… everything?”

“Grandfather told stories. Usually, the only ones who bought them were children. That’s the point. That’s always the point. Because no matter how crazy it is, it’s always good enough to get you to look away.”

“I didn’t look away.” she said.

“I know. I know you ddin’t. Thank you for that.”

I offered her a cigarette. She took it.

“You know,” she said, lighting it, “I can hear it all now.”

“Hm?”

“I can hear… discord in people’s voices. Usually, it’s people’s true nature breaking through. I heard a little bit when you were pretending to be Maggey. Bits and pieces of you trying to break through, but I couldn’t catch it. I mean, I caught it, I just didn’t think anything of it. It was too natural. You were pretty good.”

“Thanks. What do I sound like now?” I asked.

“You sound like Viola Cadaverini. Not Maggey Byrde.” she said simply.

“At long last, then.”

We blew smoke in unison. It had to do, given the lack of champagne glasses.

“You’re a wanted woman.” she told me. “What happens now?”

I shrugged. “Turn myself in?”

“Statute of limitation’s long passed, I’m pretty sure. And I wasn't talking about being wanted by the law.”

“I’m sure Elg had someone who cared about him. For their sake, if nothing else, I’ll figure out how to get the truth out. Who Viola Cadaverini really is. After that? I guess I run. Back to the edges of the world. But, actually, before I do—there’s something else I wanted to ask you. About my Grandfather. I heard he was killed recently.”

“He… was? I thought he died years ago?”

“A Cadaverini dies quietly. He went off to live under an assumed name. Even if, I guess, his death wasn’t all that quiet. You’re the Chief Prosecutor, so you probably got the case at some point.”

“Uh. Maybe. What’s the name?”