Hadn’t expected him to be quite so confused. Thought he would put up more of fight. Sat down and he made tea. Kept expecting him to jump out of kitchen window, so leaned forward on sofa to keep eye on him. Hand was on gun. Expect that was part of it.
He said he hadn’t slept in seven days, was surviving on coffee and donuts. Could believe that – he looked like he’d died and come back. Kept talking to me while he was in kitchen. This and that. Kept reminding him that he was to come quietly. He kept waving it off and talking about his cats.
Accident happened when he brought tea in. He reached into his pocket to withdraw pack of sugar-free tablets. I drew gun. He fell against table in shock. Passed on. If he isn’t perp, we’re in pickle.