“That … that was horribly done.”
Freddie snickered.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well, I was just replaying the whole thing in my mind and suddenly the thought popped in my head, Hey, good thing I didn’t give her a gun.”
A snort escaped me before I slapped a hand over my mouth.
“It’s funny because”—Freddie’s laughter was growing—“you would have shot my face off!”
Strangely that made me laugh even harder.
“And your own!”
“Twice!” I added.
We laughed for a good solid couple of minutes then Freddie wiped at the hysterical tears escaping the corners of his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover.”
My laughter settled and I coughed out, “Yeah, you’d think we’d been drinking all night.”
With that thought our mood settled back down into something much darker.
“Something’s not right. I mean, obviously so much is not right. But the whole drinking thing? We would have had to have started super early to be this hungover.”
“Yeah,” Freddie said, shaking his head no. “And I don’t remember visiting any of the bars.”
I rubbed my face. My cheeks were all pins and needles from the laughing. “I think I might have gone to the martini bar to see Mrs. Watson … but I’m pretty sure I didn’t drink anything.”
“It doesn’t make sense. We were being pretty responsible for us. Competent. Like even with the whole Blinder 3000 mishap, we still got the picture.”
“We did?”