Muggsy shook her head confusedly. “I guess I’m thick. You can’t have a murder without someone being dead. Who is?”
“Lunfaro.”
The blonde leaned back, made a futile attempt to pull the gown together over her knees, gave it up. “Lunfaro? The one who slugged you at Luigi’s?”
Liddell nodded. “That’s the one. And everybody in town knows I was after him. Including the police.” He reached over to the end table where a bottle of bourbon sat on a tray, caught it by the neck. “Got any glasses, baby? The condemned man wants to drink a hearty breakfast.”
Muggsy nodded numbly, went into the kitchenette, returned with some ice and two glasses. She watched while Liddell poured a good-sized slug into each glass. “You didn’t, Johnny? I mean, I know it was self-defense if you did. But—you didn’t kill hi
