Excerpt of An Excuse For Murder by Vanessa Westermann

For a man who knew how to handle his liquor, Gary was two
pints the worse for wear and on his way to finish off the
job. His apartment was only a fifteen minute walk from the
pub. Cold night air rushed past him, a sudden gust that
whistled down the alley farther ahead and had his ears
buzzing. A cluster of teenagers jostled their way down the
other side of the street. Gary heard a shout, followed by
loud laughter as the tallest boy finished the joke he’d
been telling, hitting the punch-line.

The shops in the pedestrian area were closed, the windows
shuttered, while the pubs were coming to life. An empty
crisp packet drifted past on a current of air. The wooden
sign of the bookstore at the end of the street swung on
rusted hinges. He was still too far away to read the sign,
but it didn’t matter. He’d seen it before, many times.
Fortune’s Cove Books. Kate Rowan, proprietor.

Adriana could never walk past a bookstore without going in.
Hard to believe it was two years to the day since she died.
He could almost hear her heels ringing against the
pavement, feel her silver ring cold against his skin when
he slipped his fingers through hers.

It would be easier to leave Caulden, but he doubted he’d be
able to build another company as successful as Fenris
Securities somewhere else. He had put everything he had
into planning his revenge.

There was still a choice. He could stay home tomorrow
instead. Listen to a live album, speakers turned up too
loud, the bass pounding through the walls. Or he could go
out, have a good time. Forget Adriana.

A door banged in the distance. A car drove past slowly, the
tires rasping over the pavement.

A step fell in pace with his own.

Gary glanced over his shoulder but said nothing. He wasn’t
in the mood for company.

They continued in silence, the rhythm of their steps
matched perfectly over the years. The man beside him began
to whistle a minuet by Mozart. The sound was clear as
glass. Gary’s fingers tensed on a flash of irritation. He
dug his hands into his pockets.

“Nice night, boss,” Percival remarked in his rumbling
baritone.

“Go away, Perce.”

“Had a pint in the pub, eh?” The tone was easy,
conversational.

It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to make that deduction. He
hadn’t hidden the fact that he had been drinking. Still, it
seemed like Percy had spotted a weakness.

The familiar sizzle of violence began at the base of his
skull and spread down his arms, through the tendons in his
hands. His nostrils flared, his breath came fast. He was
itching for a fight. “I mean it, Percival.” His voice was
dangerously calm.

Other men might have sensed something off, a quiver of
tension in the air and nothing more, but Percival knew the
warning signs. He could read them like no one else could.
He should have walked away. “Buy you a coffee?”
Gary spun and dragged the man toward him by the collar
until he could see the whites of Percival’s eyes. The crisp
fabric strained under his grip and cut into his palm.
Percival outweighed him by a good two stones, but what Gary
lacked in size he made up for in skill and

the sheer muscle to back it. Percival was impassive,
infuriatingly patient. He grinned. “Round of chess, then?”

Gary let him go, exasperated. “Friday night maybe, but not
now.”

“All right then.” Percival shrugged, his massive width
straining at the shoulders of his tweed jacket. “A client
came in today. Didn’t like the security system we
installed. Said it didn’t suit his needs. I thought we’d
covered all the bases, but people hide things, boss.” It
was said casually. “Sometimes you have to dig up the truth,
no matter how deep it’s buried.”

Gary ignored the sharp taste of adrenaline at the back of
his mouth. It could be small talk. There was a fine line
between cautious and paranoid. Still, the shock of that one
sentence almost had him sobered. He should have been
prepared but, here he was, caught off guard. Another man
might have come up with lies. Gary waited.
Percival looked up at the sky, now a bruised purple and
dark with the promise of rain. “Then again, sometimes it’s
better if things stay hidden.”

“So long as the client’s happy. We’ll draft an alternative
system for him.” Gary watched the bookstore’s sign swing in
the breeze, and he knew. He’d made a mistake somewhere
along the line. “See you in the office Monday.”

Sir.” Percival walked away, whistling softly to himself.

He had to be more careful. Even if he changed his mind,
decided to wait again before making his move. He couldn’t
afford another mistake. Not before it was done and over.