Hark!

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GLORIA KNEW THAT someone was in her apartment the moment she unlocked the door and entered. She was reaching into her tote bag when a man's voice said, 'No, don't.'

Her fingertips were an inch away from the steel butt of a .380 caliber Browning.

'Really,' the voice said. 'I wouldn't.'

She closed the door behind her, reached for the switch to the right of the door jamb, and snapped on the lights.

He was sitting in an easy chair across the room, facing the entrance door. He was wearing gray slacks, black loafers, blue socks, and a matching dark blue, long-sleeved linen shirt. The throat of the shirt was unbuttoned two buttons down. The cuffs were rolled up on his forearms. There was a hearing aid in his right ear.

'Well, well,' she said. 'Look what the cat dragged in.'

'Indeed,' he said.

'Long time no see,' she said.

'Bad penny,' he said, and shrugged almost sadly.

It was the shrug that told her he was going to kill her. Well, maybe that and the gun in his right hand. Plus the silencer screwed onto the muzzle of the gun. And their history. She knew he was not one to forget their history.

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