The photo included in it had been taken with a telephoto lens and was very grainy. He had prominent ears, a hint of a widow’s peak, and a long jaw. A decidedly masculine look…and it seemed Quinton found him attractive.
Bryan arrived in time for a drink and hors d’oeuvres before dinner.
“This is really good, Gregor,” he said as he took a bite of his chilled crab appetizer.
“Thanks, Bry, but give us the skinny. What did the CIA learn?”
“A number of things. Ballistics matched this to the pistol that was issued to Louis Buonfiglio.” He took a plastic bag from his pocket and gave it to Quinton. “It’s got your DNA on it.”
“So you’re saying I was shot by Buonfiglio?”
“Yes.”
“Goddammit, I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch!” Gregor spat.
“Too late. He was found dead in his car. Apparently he had an intrinsic cardiomyopathy.”
“Huh?”
“Weakness of the heart muscle for no discernible reason. The pathologist who did the autopsy listed cause of death as heart failure.”