“Did Jameson tell you about the old man’s weekly riddles?” Nash asked as we walked. “Yeah,” I said. “He did.” “Sometimes,” Nash told me, “at the beginning of the game, the old man would lay out a collection of objects. A fishing hook, a price tag, a glass ballerina, a knife.” He shook his head in memory. “And by the time the puzzle was solved, damned if we hadn’t used all four.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I was so much older. I had an advantage. Jamie and Gray, they’d team up against me, then double-cross each other right at the end.”
