I didn’t have the disc-I’d left it at home. In fact, before I left the apartment that morning, I’d switched the disc with a CD of Sinatra’s greatest hits that Ed Downing at the bank had once burned for me to thank me for saving him from the royal screwup that was his cash drawer.

Paranoid?

Maybe. But I wasn’t taking any chances.

I’m not sure exactly how I managed to return Yuri’s smile with one of my own. I sidestepped away from his grip.

“Eve was mistaken.” I backed up a step. Toward the door and away from Yuri. “You don’t know her. She gets a little carried away sometimes. We were talking about looking for the disc, I will admit that much. We talked about following Beyla, too, to see where she might lead us. And before you know it…” I snapped my fingers. “There’s Eve, jumping to conclusions.”

Yuri’s smile never faded. “I do not think so. I saved the message. Please, you will come to my home with me and I will replay it for you. Then you can hear for yourself what she said. She said you had it, not that you were looking for it. And I must tell you, I was so relieved to hear it. To hear that finally, we had proof of all that Beyla has done. Come. If you would come with me, you will hear the message for yourself. Then you will remember.”

He reached for my arm, but I wasn’t going to let him latch onto me. And I wasn’t going anywhere with him, either.

“I think I’ll stay right where I am.”

Yuri pulled his hand back to his side. Was it a trick of the light that made his eyes look hard? It must have been, because he was back to his old self in a moment. Suave and gracious in a very European sort of way. “But you never have said what you are doing here.”

Didn’t I? My mind raced, and I blurted out the first word that popped in my head. “Dinner.”

Yuri laughed. “But you said you were not hungry!”

“Hungry? Not yet. But cooking class was cut short. This seemed like a logical spot to stop. And I’ll tell you what…” I pulled in a long breath. “The more I smell the delicous aromas here, the hungrier I get.”

Yuri wasn’t convinced. “You will forgive me, but I do not think Romanian food is something a young American woman can appreciate and enjoy. But…” His eyes lit. “But perhaps I underestimate you. Perhaps your tastes are more sophisticated than most of the women I have met here in this country. You have been here before, yes? That is right.” He nodded, clearly satisfied with himself.

“If I am not mistaken, you showed me a receipt from this place. The one Drago wrote on the back of. You met him here, and this is where he gave you the address of the gallery, yes?”

The receipt was in my pocket, and I pulled it out. “That’s right,” I said, thanking my lucky stars. How often is there actual evidence to support a totally outrageous lie? I turned the receipt over, not to the side Drago had written on, but to the one that showed that there had been two for dinner that night, and what they ordered. “I have been here before. And it was the night I bumped into Drago and he told me to stop by the gallery. See, right here. My friend and I stopped by. We hadbors de -”

“Bors de berbec.” Yuri moved too quickly for me. Before I could pull my hand back, he plucked the receipt out of my fingers. “Who would think you would enjoy this sour soup with mutton. Such a pronounced flavor! Too strong for a girl like you. But Drago, he liked this soup very much. You knew he would order it that night, as he always did. You knew it has a strong taste, and that it would be easy to disguise the flavor of foxglove in it.”

I heard what Yuri said, but honestly, it was so outrageous, I was too shocked to respond. All I could manage was a couple of weak laughs.

Was Yuri really suggesting that I was the one who-

My laughter faded. The blood drained out of my face. I stared at him, stunned. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

Yuri took another drag on his cigarette.

“Have you taken the time to look carefully at this receipt?” Yuri held it up, careful to keep it far enough away that I couldn’t get it back from him. “Do you realize Drago was here? That night?”

“Thatnight?” I didn’t like the way Yuri said it, and it only took me a couple seconds to work out why. “You mean the night he was killed?”

“Look.” Yuri pointed to the date on the receipt, confirming my worst fears. He held the receipt toward the light to see it better. “I think it is just about right, don’t you? Twenty to thirty minutes, that is how long it takes for foxglove to take effect. You will know this, I think, because you carry that vial of foxglove with you. And if I am not mistaken…” He took another look at the receipt, drawing out the suspense. “This receipt proves that you and Drago paid for your dinners just about thirty minutes before he died.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I made a grab for the receipt, but I wasn’t quick enough. Yuri had already tucked it into the breast pocket of his polo shirt. “I didn’t have dinner with Drago that night. I’d never met Drago before that night. I’ve never been here before.”

Yuri patted his pocket. “That is not what you told me just a moment ago. You are confused, yes? We will ask Constanta, the hostess. I am sure she will verify the fact that she has seen you here before.”

“That’s impossible.” I spun away from Yuri, ready to head out the door. But he grabbed me so hard and so fast, I was facing him again before I even knew it.

“Nothing is impossible,” he said, his words quiet, like the hiss of a snake. “Not if I say so.”

“But you know I didn’t kill Drago.” Was that my own voice I heard? The one that wavered over the words? It sounded small and afraid. I didn’t like it one bit.

I raised my chin and looked Yuri in the eye. “Quit playing games. You know Beyla’s the one who killed Drago. What do you want?”

I didn’t really need to ask.

“The disc, you stupid woman.” His eyes flashed. But a moment later, he let go of my arm.

“But of course… You cannot realize how important it is.” His gaze whipped back to mine. “That is, unless you have looked at it?”

“I haven’t.” I was getting to be a skilled liar-I never even blinked. “Now here’s the deal: the disc in exchange for the receipt.”

Yuri didn’t expect me to drive a hard bargain. His lips curled into something between a sneer and a smile. “I hate to give up the receipt so easily, when I worked so hard to get it in the first place.”

“Worked?” I rolled my eyes. “You snatched it right out of my hand. Like a bully on a playground. You-”

Suddenly, I felt cold settle in the pit of my stomach. “You’ve been trying to get that receipt from me for weeks. That’s why I couldn’t find my purse that night I went to Whitlow’s with Jim. You snatched my purse and looked through it and put it back when you didn’t find the receipt inside. And my apartment-” The cold solidified into ice. “You were there. When Jim and I got there the night I followed Beyla, I thought my things had been moved around. You were in my apartment!”

Yuri shrugged. “I am not a dishonest man,” he said. “But you see how desperate I am. You see how very important this is to me.”

“OK, you wanted the receipt. But why? At the time, you didn’t know-”

“Does it matter?” he snapped. As he fought to calm himself, his teeth clenched and his jaw tensed. “We will make a trade,” he said more quietly this time. “The disc for the receipt.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the bits and pieces of everything Yuri had said. If he knew about the receipt, but he didn’t know if I’d ever find the disc…

I shoved the thoughts aside. Better to stick to one subject than to let Yuri know I was baffled. “So if the disc is that important, why not just let me take it to the police?”

“You will not do that.” The steel in Yuri’s voice made it clear that the subject was not open for discussion. “You will bring it to me. I will call to tell you when and where. And once I have it, I will deal with Beyla.” He turned to walk back into the dining room. “Me. Not the police.”