Duvivier sipped from his glass. "It's excellent," he said. "But why did you want to see me?" He smiled a little. "Are you ready to confess?"
"As a matter of fact," Sandy said, "I am."
Duvivier's mouth fell open.
When Sandy had finished his story, and the two of them had finished the bottle, Duvivier finally spoke. "Do you feel better now?"
"I feel very much better," Sandy said. "You can arrest me, if you like."
"For what?" Duvivier asked. "About the most I could charge you with would be obstruction of justice-concealing the facts of a murder-but I doubt if it would stick. After all, you acted under duress."
Sandy shrugged.
"Anyway, I didn't read you your rights, so your confession would be inadmissible in court."
Sandy smiled. "I rather thought that might be the case. I just wanted to tell you; somehow, I felt you had a right to know the truth."
"Thank you. If you'd told me the facts at the beginning, it might have saved you a great deal of pain."
"I've thought about that, and you're right, I suppose, but there's no changing what's past. I'll just have to learn to live with the consequences of my actions."
Duvivier stood up. "Well, I'd better be getting home; my wife will have dinner ready."
Sandy stood up and took another bottle of the wine from his desk. "Take this with my compliments-and, my apologies."
"Is this a bribe?" Duvivier asked.
"Probably."
"Don't worry, your story won't go any further. And my wife will enjoy the wine very much."
"I hope she does."
Duvivier stuck out his hand. "You know, you and your wife are very lucky. It could have ended differently."
"I know," Sandy said. "My wife and I are very, very lucky."
