CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

"With all I just said, that's the only thing you're interested in?" Kelvin asked.

"No I'm just curious. From what you just said, the detective is very smart but it's impossible to find something that disguised between trash," Mary said, sipping.

"I guess Martins has learned his lesson and that's all that matters. Your inhaler is still probably buried under dirt in the incinerator." He tried pouring another glass of wine, his veins erupting from his neck.

Mary stopped abruptly, almost choking. "What did you say?"

"-that Martins has learned his lesson?"

"No, not that, after that. Something about my inhaler," Mary replied, dropping the glass to prevent it from slipping from her hand.

"Your inhaler is still probably buried under dirt." His voice was calm.

"How did you know about my inhaler being buried under dirt?" She asked.

"I know you are asthmatic, you told me."