"No, no one's shooting anyone," John agreed. He sighed and figured they might as well see if there was another gun with another bullet in the second box. To do that, he'd need to confess something. He'd finally worked out what he would say, and while he wasn't happy about it, it would have to do. He trusted Cole, but not the other two. Not as much. Especially Peter, the lawyer. Lawyers, in his book, were bad news.
Setting the gun down, John rolled the bullet between his palms for a few seconds before placing the cartridge beside the gun. "I used to work for Arthur Worthington," he said, speaking slowly, carefully. He liked more time to process information than this and he didn't want to slip up or say something that would get anyone in any more trouble. "He had me arrange the deaths of two of his employees when his wife started showing any interest in them." He really hoped they would all take arrange at face value and not any further. He didn't need to deal with that. "And then he asked me to come here to keep an eye on his wife after she left his careful supervision." John shook his head, his lip curling in disdain. He loathed Worthington. "I quit his employ a few weeks ago when the wife skipped town."
He fell silent and lifted his chin, trying to get a view of the other box. It had clicked open, just like the other one had when Iris finished talking.