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secrets.” He paused as he picked up a white porcelain cup and saucer on the tray before him. “You have to determine how the secrets can be extracted and then you must match the available specialist to the job.” He poured some of the black liquid from the ceramic pot into the cup and then held it out to me and asked, “Cream or sugar?”
    I took the cup and saucer from his hand. “No, thank you. I take it black.”
    He reached for the teapot and poured a cup of tea. “My client list over the past twenty years has been quite extensive. But the notoriety of the clients is not what interests me. What always amazes me is how quickly people will hand over their souls in exchange for something as trivial as sex, money, or even fame.”
    I took a sip of the rich coffee, feeling thankful I had something inside of me to help strengthen my resolve. I watched as Simon La Roy placed milk and sugar in his tea. I wasn’t sure if I would ever understand why David had chosen such a life with Simon La Roy, but I felt some comfort in the fact that I was finally beginning to learn more about the man I had loved. Even if what I was learning was not to my liking.
    “I’m not sure why you’re telling me all of this, Simon.”
    “I wanted you to know that David’s murder was not a result of any work he may have done for me in the past.”
    My hands trembled slightly. I placed my cup and saucer down on the table before me. “How do you know that?”
    “Because I have been investigating David’s death and I feel certain that the deed was not committed by anyone associated with my organization.”
    I took a breath before I spoke, trying to get control over my emotions. “Investigating? What do you mean you’ve been investigating David’s death?”
    “I was hired to investigate and find his murderer.”
    “Hired?” I jumped from my chair, raising my voice and losing all sense of decorum. “Who in the hell hired you to do that?”
    Simon looked unflustered as he put his teacup down on the table in front of him. “Flo hired me, naturally. She retained my services almost as soon as she returned from his funeral.”
    My heart began to race and the coffee I had just consumed was burning in my stomach. “Flo! But why didn’t she tell me about any of this?”
    Simon sat back in his chair. “I told her not to say anything. I felt it was not safe for you to know.”
    I stared at Simon, unsure of what I had just heard. “What do you mean not safe?”
    “My dear Nicci, after all the research I have done over the past two years, there is only one conclusion I can make.” He paused for a moment. My heart rose in my throat. “The murderer came from New Orleans. This was not about David’s past. It was about you.”
    “Me?” I shouted. I reached over and nervously grabbed for the arm of my chair. I was not prepared for this. I had come here thinking I would hear lurid stories about David’s past, not this. I had loved him, not killed him.
    “Simon, you’re wrong,” I said, trying to rationalize away the little man’s words. “David died because of his past, not because of me. You’ve made some kind of mistake, that’s all.”
    Simon La Roy stared coolly into my eyes. “I can assure you there is no mistake. There is no other explanation. I am convinced David was killed because of you.”
    My hands started shaking uncontrollably and the room began to spin. Simon had to be wrong. He had to be. But as I looked down into his small brown eyes, I felt somewhere in the recesses of my mind that he may be right. I had made myself believe that David’s intriguing past had been the reason for his death. I had held on so tight to every fragment of my memories of David to help me survive his death. Now I could feel all those happy images of him dissolving away inside of me to reveal the complete emptiness of my heart.
    “Nicci, you must come to terms with this.” Simon’s voice was firm.
    “Come to terms with this? How in the hell do