Levins told the feds I was accepting bribes from him, in exchange for not reporting shoddy construction practices.”
“Jesus. That was you?”
“It was an accusation.”
“Is it true?” Casey asked.
Duncan leveled him with a stare like smoldering coals—ablaze, subdued. “Of course it isn’t. I’ve never broken the law in my life, not until I met your brother and the rest of you lot. I don’t need to, besides. Sunnyside paid me too well for money to have ever been a temptation.”
“Way you dress and that car you drive,” Casey said, “not sure if people will believe that.”
“Yes, thank you. So I’ve been told.”
“Half the town already thinks you’re a dick. Hope they don’t upgrade you to something worse.”
Raina said, “Shut up, Case.” Though she shared his concern.
“Just saying. It’s bad enough everybody’s been calling him Mr. Peanut.”
Duncan stiffened, frowning. “Mr. Peanut?”
“Because you’re, like, one monocle shy of a dandy,” Casey said.
“Mr.
Peanut
, really . . . He’s not even British.”
“Isn’t he?”
“You’re not helping, Casey,” Raina cut in. To Duncan she said, “The feds won’t have any proof.”
“Not any credible proof, no . . . Though apparently a witness has come forward who claims to have seen me accepting money from Levins. My motel room and car were searched this morning, though they won’t have found anything.”
“A witness? Shit. You could fight it, though. Sunnyside would have to give you your job back.”
“Yes, I could fight it.” But his posture and his voice said he didn’t have the fuel, just now. “Though I’d prefer a time machine, so I could go back and keep far away from the lot of you.”
The comment stung Raina deeper than she wanted to admit. “We might not have proven Alex was murdered, without you.”
“Forgive me if I’m finding it hard to give a shit about your dead friend at the moment.”
“Hey—” Casey was poised to take issue, but Raina grabbed his arm and stilled him.
“He’s freaked-out and basically high. Let him be an asshole.”
“That was a real fucked-up thing to say,” Casey spat at Duncan, fists clamped to his sides. “Our friend was
murdered.
All you lost was a fucking job.”
Raina corralled him toward the kitchen. “Go help Abilenebehind the bar. And don’t go telling anyone about any of this.” Surely Duncan wouldn’t have spilled half of what he had if he’d been in his right mind.
“You’re welcome,” Casey muttered, and headed for the door. “Exactly what I wanted to do on my Friday night . . .”
Raina crouched and put a hand on Duncan’s knee. It seemed like the kind of thing a nurturing woman would do.
His lips were a hard line, eyebrows drawn and angry, but when he spoke, he sounded cooler. “Apologies. I shouldn’t have denigrated your friend’s death.”
“You have any clue of the kind of nasty shit I hear, surrounded by drunk people every night? Save your apology for Casey.”
Duncan sank back on the couch, glaring up at the ceiling.
“Can I make you some tea or something? I’ve got black, and some kind of mint.”
“I don’t need nursemaiding.”
“Funny, seeing as how you needed hauling up the stairs just now.”
He stared at her, gray eyes softening by a degree in the lamplight. “Fine. Tea would be lovely. Black, please.”
“How do you take it?”
“Milk and honey.”
“No honey. Sugar?”
“One. Thank you.”
She headed to the next room and turned the burner on under the kettle. “Have you eaten much today?”
“Just some toast, around ten. And that didn’t stay down, I’m afraid.”
“Well, Jesus. Three pills and a stiff drink on no food? And that horrible slap in the face? No wonder you’re a shaky, douchey mess. Come in here.”
He joined her after a moment, pulling out a chair at her small table. Raina looked through the fridge. “I’ve got . . . not a lot. Leftover spaghetti. Or I could make
“Jesus. That was you?”
“It was an accusation.”
“Is it true?” Casey asked.
Duncan leveled him with a stare like smoldering coals—ablaze, subdued. “Of course it isn’t. I’ve never broken the law in my life, not until I met your brother and the rest of you lot. I don’t need to, besides. Sunnyside paid me too well for money to have ever been a temptation.”
“Way you dress and that car you drive,” Casey said, “not sure if people will believe that.”
“Yes, thank you. So I’ve been told.”
“Half the town already thinks you’re a dick. Hope they don’t upgrade you to something worse.”
Raina said, “Shut up, Case.” Though she shared his concern.
“Just saying. It’s bad enough everybody’s been calling him Mr. Peanut.”
Duncan stiffened, frowning. “Mr. Peanut?”
“Because you’re, like, one monocle shy of a dandy,” Casey said.
“Mr.
Peanut
, really . . . He’s not even British.”
“Isn’t he?”
“You’re not helping, Casey,” Raina cut in. To Duncan she said, “The feds won’t have any proof.”
“Not any credible proof, no . . . Though apparently a witness has come forward who claims to have seen me accepting money from Levins. My motel room and car were searched this morning, though they won’t have found anything.”
“A witness? Shit. You could fight it, though. Sunnyside would have to give you your job back.”
“Yes, I could fight it.” But his posture and his voice said he didn’t have the fuel, just now. “Though I’d prefer a time machine, so I could go back and keep far away from the lot of you.”
The comment stung Raina deeper than she wanted to admit. “We might not have proven Alex was murdered, without you.”
“Forgive me if I’m finding it hard to give a shit about your dead friend at the moment.”
“Hey—” Casey was poised to take issue, but Raina grabbed his arm and stilled him.
“He’s freaked-out and basically high. Let him be an asshole.”
“That was a real fucked-up thing to say,” Casey spat at Duncan, fists clamped to his sides. “Our friend was
murdered.
All you lost was a fucking job.”
Raina corralled him toward the kitchen. “Go help Abilenebehind the bar. And don’t go telling anyone about any of this.” Surely Duncan wouldn’t have spilled half of what he had if he’d been in his right mind.
“You’re welcome,” Casey muttered, and headed for the door. “Exactly what I wanted to do on my Friday night . . .”
Raina crouched and put a hand on Duncan’s knee. It seemed like the kind of thing a nurturing woman would do.
His lips were a hard line, eyebrows drawn and angry, but when he spoke, he sounded cooler. “Apologies. I shouldn’t have denigrated your friend’s death.”
“You have any clue of the kind of nasty shit I hear, surrounded by drunk people every night? Save your apology for Casey.”
Duncan sank back on the couch, glaring up at the ceiling.
“Can I make you some tea or something? I’ve got black, and some kind of mint.”
“I don’t need nursemaiding.”
“Funny, seeing as how you needed hauling up the stairs just now.”
He stared at her, gray eyes softening by a degree in the lamplight. “Fine. Tea would be lovely. Black, please.”
“How do you take it?”
“Milk and honey.”
“No honey. Sugar?”
“One. Thank you.”
She headed to the next room and turned the burner on under the kettle. “Have you eaten much today?”
“Just some toast, around ten. And that didn’t stay down, I’m afraid.”
“Well, Jesus. Three pills and a stiff drink on no food? And that horrible slap in the face? No wonder you’re a shaky, douchey mess. Come in here.”
He joined her after a moment, pulling out a chair at her small table. Raina looked through the fridge. “I’ve got . . . not a lot. Leftover spaghetti. Or I could make
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