“No idea what Hubble knows,” I said. “You’re the one claims he fell apart.”
“Ten people,” he said. “Not counting me.”
Hubble nodded and rocked back and forth on his bed. Took a deep breath. Looked straight at me.
I flicked the knife at his belly. Slit his greasy shirt.
I thought about it. I’d walked right by there at eight o’clock on Friday morning. Right between the two bodies.
“Older,” I said. I gave him Joe’s date of birth. “Two years older than me.”