Adelaide listened carefully, filing everything he said away in her mind, and her lips curled into a smile as she leaned in slightly. "Mr. Belli, I think if you have anything to say about it, there are enough cards stacked in this town that pretty soon it's hardly going to cross his mind to confess. He'll have much, much bigger fish to fry," she purred, grinning. "But if you think he will be a problem, then I will of course take care of him for you."
She stroked the gun lovingly before sliding it into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back, concealing it with the tail of her shirt. It would do until she could get a handbag, anyway.
Something befitting a lady.
She rifled through Jenny's memories, then grinned. "I know the woman you're speaking about," she said, ignoring the despairing wails of Jenny still residing in her own brain. It always took awhile for them to quiet down, as Adelaide well knew. That was fine. She could be patient. "It'll be a pleasure to get rid of her. She brings so little to the table," Adelaide sighed ruefully. She thought of herself, milky-white skin and ivory hair, spattered with blood from the Terrible Thing she'd done to get her into the asylum. And Mr. Belli, whispering, his voice... leading her along the thorny, brambled path she'd been on for so long now.
She should have hated him. Instead there was only devotion there, devotion and love and worship.
He did own her soul, after all.
"And then," she asked him almost hesitantly, her gaze lifting to his, "...what becomes of me, when I've done what you ask? When you leave this city?"