Chap­ter 77 of We Solve Mur­ders opens in the vibrant, bustling heart of Dubai, where the gleam­ing city lights sparkle through the floor-to-ceil­ing win­dows of a lux­u­ri­ous high-rise apart­ment. The sharp con­trast between the city’s moder­ni­ty and the ten­sion brew­ing with­in the suite forms an intrigu­ing back­drop for Rob Kenna’s actions. As he sits on the bed, three guns are metic­u­lous­ly dis­played before him, each of dif­fer­ent sizes, sym­bol­iz­ing his readi­ness for what­ev­er comes next. Rob’s demeanor is one of con­trolled chaos; his con­fi­dence brims as he picks up the small­est weapon, a hand­gun, and holds it aloft in a man­ner that could eas­i­ly be mis­tak­en for a per­for­mance. “This one’s for you, Amy Wheel­er,” he mut­ters, his tone a mix of mock­ery and men­ace. With a delib­er­ate, exag­ger­at­ed blow across the bar­rel, he mim­ics the sound of a gun­shot, as if try­ing to assert dom­i­nance over the imag­i­nary oppo­nent. This play­ful act, though amus­ing at first glance, hints at a deep­er, more unset­tling side to Rob, some­one who uses the­atrics to mask a cold, cal­cu­lat­ing mind beneath.

The atmos­phere thick­ens as Rob shifts his atten­tion to the next weapon, a com­pact machine pis­tol, which he grabs with an air of pur­pose. The room seems to shrink with the mount­ing ten­sion as Rob, now ful­ly embrac­ing his role, declares, “You defeat­ed the rest, Amy Wheel­er, but you just met the best.” His words hang in the air like a chal­lenge, as he spins and mim­ics spray­ing bul­lets around the room with reck­less aban­don. The noise of his play­ful imi­ta­tion echoes off the walls, adding to the absur­di­ty of the sit­u­a­tion, but there is some­thing unde­ni­ably men­ac­ing in the way he holds the gun, as though ready to turn his per­for­mance into real­i­ty. The thrill of the moment is pal­pa­ble, and Rob appears more invest­ed in his the­atrics than the actu­al con­se­quences of his actions. Final­ly, he grabs the largest weapon—a sawn-off shotgun—and with a flour­ish, announces, “Wel­come to Dubai, Amy. It’ll blow you away.” The echo of “Kablam­mo!” fol­lows his words, the gun hit­ting the bed with a sharp thud. The entire scene becomes a per­for­mance of pow­er and con­trol, yet beneath it all, Rob is not mere­ly play­ing; he’s prepar­ing for some­thing inevitable.

As the scene pro­gress­es, the line between mock­ery and intent begins to blur, with Rob’s final words sig­nal­ing a shift in his mind­set: “You need a job done prop­er­ly, some­times you got­ta do it your­self.” This line reveals a sense of per­son­al respon­si­bil­i­ty and deter­mi­na­tion that had not been ful­ly present before. What began as play­ful role­play morphs into a seri­ous procla­ma­tion of intent—Rob is prepar­ing for a con­fronta­tion, and he will not leave it to oth­ers. There’s no longer any pre­tense; Rob is done watch­ing from the side­lines. His mind races as he imag­ines Amy Wheeler’s inevitable resis­tance and the ways in which she will chal­lenge him. Rob knows he will need to han­dle this encounter him­self if he wants it to go accord­ing to plan. The play­ful brava­do he dis­played with the guns now feels like a cov­er for some­thing dark­er, a steely resolve to face what­ev­er comes his way head-on. His ear­li­er antics have served their purpose—to lull both him­self and oth­ers into a false sense of com­fort, before the real action begins.

The chap­ter con­cludes with Rob’s reflec­tion on the sit­u­a­tion and his readi­ness for what lies ahead. The weapons that were once part of his play­ful mock­ery now sym­bol­ize the tools he will use to assert his dom­i­nance. The room, the city out­side, and the entire nar­ra­tive have been set in motion for the con­flict that is to come. Rob’s antics, filled with exag­ger­at­ed brava­do, have act­ed as both a warn­ing and a dis­trac­tion, but the grav­i­ty of his words at the end of the scene makes it clear: the time for games is over. Read­ers are left with an unset­tling sense of antic­i­pa­tion, as they are made acute­ly aware of Rob’s true nature—one that com­bines the­atri­cal flair with a chill­ing abil­i­ty to turn the per­for­mance into a dead­ly real­i­ty.