“Rent?” Bernie asked.
“Sublet actually. Why? Do you have a problem with that? Cem pan” Duncan asked.
“No,” Bernie replied. “I’m just surprised. I thought you’d have a co-op.”
“I sold mine last year.”
“And you didn’t buy another?” Bernie asked.
“No. It doesn’t make economic sense right now. Do you want me to explain why?” Duncan asked in a condescending tone.
“Not really,” Bernie replied. “What I want you to do is tell me where Liza took off to.”
Duncan gave a half shrug. “I don’t know. She was gone when I got up and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Have you tried getting in touch with her?” Libby asked Duncan.
He gave an exasperated snort. “What do you think? Of course I looked. As have the police and my lawyer. She’s just disappeared.”
“Why would she do that?” Bernie asked.
“Haven’t a clue,” Duncan said. “Maybe she got nervous and split.”
“That seems like an odd thing to do,” Libby observed.
“She’s an odd girl,” Duncan said.
“Any idea where she’d go?”
“None,” Duncan said. “Believe me, if I did I would have told the police.”
“Would you have?” Bernie asked.
Duncan scowled. “Why? Don’t you believe me?”
“No. I’m not sure I do,” Bernie told him.
“But I do,” Libby said, jumping into the conversation before Duncan had a chance to reply. “How about the other people in the group?” she asked. “What did they do?”
Duncan shrugged. “As far as I know, everyone drove themselves home and went off to nighty-night land.”
“Including Sweeney?” said Libby, thinking back to what Clyde had told them.
“Yeah, including Sweeney,” Duncan replied.
“I thought he left with you,” Libby said.
Duncan leaned over and pulled up one of his socks. “Whatever gives you that idea?”
“The police.”
“Well, that’s one of the many facts they’ve gotten wrong,” said Duncan as he pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand.
“Wasn’t anyone concerned about Sweeney getting behind the wheel of a car?” Bernie asked.
Duncan gave her an incredulous look. “Why?”
Libby opened her eyes wide. “Duh. Because he had been knocked out cold.”
Duncan shook his head at the apparent idiocy of her statement. “Duh yourself. He was knocked out all the time on the football field. It never bothered him before, so why should it have bothered him then?”
“Good point,” Bernie said. “Did you see Sweeney leave?”
Duncan shook his head again. “Liza and I were the first ones out of there.”
“May I ask why?” Libby inquired.
Duncan leered. “What do you think?”
“Besides that,” Bernie said.
Duncan rubbed his hands together. “Frankly, I’d had enough, and to be honest with you I didn’t want to be around if Sweeney pulled any more stuff.”
“Which he was prone to do?” Libby asked.
Dun Cem"
“So Sweeney either did or didn’t go home,” Bernie said, thinking out loud.
“No, he went home all right,” Duncan interrupted. “Liam said he saw him drive away.”
Bernie leaned forward. “And then for some reason he came back and sometime between three and nine in the morning, someone drowned him in a barrel of green beer. Is that correct?”
Duncan looked down at his fingernails. “That’s what they tell me.”
“They?” Bernie said.
“The lawyers and the cops.”
Libby shifted her position on the sofa to get more comfortable. It was a great-looking sofa, but it was too deep for her. “And what do your friends tell you?”
Duncan looked Libby and Bernie directly in the eyes and said, “They don’t know anything either.”
Bernie smiled. “Amazing, how no one knows anything, isn’t it, Libby?”
“Absolutely, Bernie,” Libby replied.
“Ask my friends,” Duncan cried, doing a passable imitation of outrage.
“Don’t worry,” Bernie told him. “We intend to.”
“Be my guest,” Duncan told her, giving both Libby and Bernie a sullen look.
“And there’s nothing more you want to add to what you’ve already told us?” Libby asked him.
Duncan shook his head. “Persistent, aren’t you? I told you I was asleep.”
Libby sat back. She frowned. “Then why did the police arrest you?”
“Because they’re idiots.”
“Aside from that?” Bernie asked.
“They claim they found my wallet near the barrel Sweeney was drowned in, but that was because I must have dropped it there earlier in the evening. Also my fingerprints were on the steering wheel of his car, but that was because I’d started his car earlier in the day when it had stalled out.”
Interesting, Bernie thought. Clyde hadn’t told her dad anything about that. She wondered if Clyde was holding out on him or he didn’t know. She’d vote for the latter possibility.
“So all the police have is circumstantial evidence?” Bernie asked.
Duncan nodded his head vigorously. “That is correct.”
“And you have no motive for killing Sweeney?”
“No. Absolutely not. I mean I’ve known the guy since high school.”
“And you were good friends?”
Duncan shrugged. “We drifted apart a little when we went to college, but then we reconnected when everyone moved back. No. I feel terrible. Absolutely terrible. Mike was the greatest guy in the world. I can’t imagine who would want him dead.”
“So you didn’t threaten to kill Sweeney at a party two days before he died?” Bernie asked.
Duncan passed his hand over his face. “I was pissed, okay? And I was drinking. When I drink I say things. But I don’t mean them.”
“Why were you pissed?” Bernie asked.
Duncan looked down at his hands. “I don’t remember.”
“Really,” Bernie said.
“Yes, really,” Duncan replied. He took his cell Ctoo">
“Because you have miles to go before you sleep?” Bernie asked.
Duncan gave her a blank look.
“It’s a riff on a line from Robert Frost,” Bernie explained.
“Who’s that?” Duncan asked. “Some rapper?”
“No,” Bernie shot back. “A player for the Jets.”
“Really?” Duncan said.
Bernie just shook her head in disgust. “No. Not really. He’s a famous American poet.”
“Whatever,” Duncan said.
Libby decided that he was clearly bored with the conversation. She didn’t say anything. She just watched Duncan for a moment. Then she leaned back, reached in the pocket of her hoodie, took out a chocolate kiss, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. “I have a question for you before we go,” she said to Duncan, after the chocolate had dissolved on her tongue.
Duncan planted his feet on the floor, leaned forward, clasped his hands, and rested his arms on his knees. “Yeah? Make it short, because I really have a lot of stuff I have to do.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Well, it hasn’t seemed to make any difference,” he snapped at Libby.
“I’m just curious about one thing.”
Duncan’s left leg started jiggling up and down. “I’m waiting,” he said when Libby didn’t say anything else.
“How come your aunt is paying for your lawyer?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. She was just curious to see what Duncan was going to say.
Duncan gave her a blank look. “That’s it?”
Libby nodded. “That’s it.”
“I don’t get the question.”
“The question is simple,” Libby went on. “From
what I hear, you’re a very rich man, a man who could easily afford the one hundred thousand dollars, even the two hundred thousand it costs to mount a defense, let alone post a bond for bail, and yet your aunt is doing it. And not only is she doing it, but she’s letting you live in her guest cottage as well.”
“That’s because the lawyers thought it would be better,” Duncan replied, a sullen tone creeping into his voice.
“Why is that?” Libby asked, noting as she did that Duncan had stopped tapping his foot.
Duncan glared at her. “Ask them if you’re so interested. See, I knew hiring you was a mistake.” He started to get up. “I think we’re just about done here.”
Libby stayed where she was. “You know what I think?” she said. “I think that if we asked around we’d find that you’re living in your aunt’s guest house because you’re behind on your rent. In fact, I bet we’d find you’re in the process of being evicted. Am I right?”
“My money is tied up right now,” Duncan told her stiffly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“And that’s why your aunt is paying for your defense as well?” Bernie asked.
“I’ll pay her back,” Duncan said. “She knows that. I’m just not very liquid right now.”
“So what happened?” Bernie asked him.
“What do you mean ‘w Cyouthe hat happened’?” Duncan demanded.
“I mean what happened to your money?”
Duncan adjusted a button on his shirt. “You wouldn’t understand,” he told her. “It’s very complicated.”
“You’re probably right,” Bernie said. “I don’t understand all this high finance stuff.” She turned to Libby. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Mike Sweeney involved in the finance business?”
“I believe he was,” Libby replied.
“And didn’t he trade something like derivatives?”
“Right again,” Libby said.
“And aren’t those very volatile?” Bernie asked.
Libby nodded. “Indeed they are, Bernie. In fact, a lot of people have lost enormous sums of money on them recently.”
Duncan scowled. “Hey. Spare me the finance lesson here. I know what derivatives are, thank you very much.”
“I bet you do,” Libby said sweetly. “And I’m also going to bet that that’s why you don’t have any money right now. And I’m further going to bet that Mike Sweeney is responsible for your present predicament. And I’ll go even further and say that that’s what the argument was about at the party and that’s why you said you wanted to kill him. And that, coupled with your wallet, is why the police arrested you. You have a really good motive for wanting to kill Sweeney, that motive being that he lost all of your money for you.”
“That’s a crock,” Duncan told her.
Bernie jumped in to the conversation. “It doesn’t seem that way to me,” she said. “Judging from your reaction, we seem to have hit the mark.”
“A lot you know,” Duncan said.
Bernie looked up at Duncan. “Then enlighten us,” she challenged him.
“Let me tell you something,” Duncan said, glowering down at her. “Sweeney might have screwed me over, but that was nothing compared to what he did to the other guys. I’m not married. I don’t have dependents. And anyway, I’ll make the money back easy enough. I made it the first time and I’ll do it again. Sweeney got a little more complicated than he should have. It happens.” He paused to take a breath. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you guys about this. I thought you were hired to help me.”
“We are,” Bernie said. “And we will.”
“This is what you consider helping?” Duncan demanded. “You two are worse than the DA.”
“We just need to know all the facts,” Libby explained.
Duncan put up his hands. “You already know them.”
“I think there’s more,” Bernie said.
“There isn’t,” Duncan said. “I’ve already told you everything I know.”
“No, you haven’t,” Bernie said.
Duncan didn’t say anything. After a minute had passed Bernie motioned for Libby to get up.
“Fine,” she said to Duncan. “If you want to waste your aunt’s money, that’s fine with me. If you want to go to jail, that’s your business not mine.”
“I’m not going to jail,” Duncan retorted.
“I think maybe you are,” Libby answered.
“No friggin’ way,” Duncan shot back.
Libby zipped up her sweatshirt. “Here’s something to think about. Given your conne Cen /spctions in this town, I don’t think the DA would have moved to have you arrested if he didn’t have a good case, a case he thought he could win. Are you sure there isn’t anything else you want to tell us before we go?”
“Yes,” Duncan said.
“Fine,” Libby said, and started for the door. Bernie followed. They were almost there when Duncan called out to them.
“Stop,” he said.
Libby and Bernie both turned.
Duncan was standing there looking down at the floor and plucking at the hem of his shirt.
“We’re waiting,” Libby said when Duncan didn’t say anything.
Duncan looked up and bit his lip. “It’s just that this is hard,” he said.
“No doubt,” Bernie said.
“It makes things look worse.”
“Did you kill Sweeney?” Libby asked.
“No. Of course not,” Duncan cried. Then he went back to looking at the floor.
“You don’t seem so sure,” Libby said.
Duncan didn’t say anything. The sisters waited.
“Okay, okay,” Duncan finally said to them after a moment had gone by. “Truth ...”
“Truth,” Bernie replied.
“The truth is I don’t know, because I don’t remember anything,” Duncan said.
“I don’t get it,” Libby said.
Duncan waved his arms in the air. He looked on the brink of tears. Suddenly Libby felt bad for him.
“I don’t remember anything. The last thing I remember is having a drink at RJ’s and the next thing I know I’m waking up in my bed the next morning with a hangover you wouldn’t believe.”
“How many drinks did you have?” Bernie asked him.
“One. A beer.”
“So you blacked out at the party when you threatened to kill Sweeney?” Libby asked.
“Yeah. But that was because I had five Singapore Slings and a couple of shots, and anyway I was lying.”
“About remembering?” Bernie asked.
Duncan looked away. “Yeah.”
“Go on,” Bernie said.
Duncan rubbed his hands together and looked down at the floor. “I say things when I drink... .” His voice trailed off. “But as to this blacking out thing—that’s never happened to me before. Not after one drink.” He lifted up his head, looked Bernie and Libby in the eyes, and put his hand up. “I swear.” He turned to Libby. “Do you believe me?”
“Yeah, Duncan, I do,” Libby told him. “So bottom line, what you’re telling us is that you have no idea about what happened that night?”
Duncan shook his head. “Not really. No. Everything is a blank. And believe me I’ve tried to remember.”
“And all that stuff you told us?” Libby asked.
Duncan shrugged. “I made it up. I mean I didn’t know what else do to. How bad would the other have looked?”
“Pretty bad,” Libby admitted.
Bernie tapped her fingers against her pants leg while she thought. Finally she said, “So this has never happened to you before.”
“That’s what I just said. I mean one beer. Come on. I can pound five of Cpou to y those down without breaking a sweat,” Duncan said before lapsing into silence again.
“Do you think someone could have slipped something in your beer?” Libby said slowly.
Duncan looked at Libby as if she’d gone crazy. “No. Absolutely not.”
“It’s just a t
hought,” Libby told him.
“A far-fetched one if you ask me,” Duncan said.
“But it does explain things,” Bernie said.
“I refuse to believe it,” Duncan said. “Anyway, who would do something like that?” he asked.
Libby shook her head. “Someone you were drinking with that night?”
“I was drinking with my friends.”
“Maybe they’re not,” Bernie observed.
“I can’t believe it,” Duncan said.
“Or won’t believe it,” Bernie interjected.
“That’s the same thing,” Duncan told her.
“Not really,” Bernie answered. “Think about it.”
Duncan shook his head violently from side to side. “It’s not possible.”
“Okay, let me ask you a question,” Libby said. “Have you had a drink since that night?”
“Yes,” Duncan said. “More than one.”
“And have you passed out?”
Duncan was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “That doesn’t prove anything. It doesn’t,” he insisted, reading the expressions on Libby’s and Bernie’s faces.
Libby shrugged. “Have it your own way,” she told him. “It’s true we can’t prove what happened, because we can’t do a chemical analysis at this point, but it’s the best explanation for what happened.”
“I think my sister is on to something,” Bernie told Duncan.
He looked from Libby to Bernie and back again. “I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t mean it happened,” Bernie said gently. “But it would be a good avenue to pursue.”
Libby didn’t say anything. She could see Duncan struggling to come to grips with the idea.
Duncan sighed. He studied one of the Georgia O’Keefe prints on the far wall. A moment later, he looked back at Libby and Bernie and asked, “So what are you going to do?”
Bernie smiled. “We’re going to do what we do best. Bake muffins.”
Duncan laughed.
“No. Seriously. We’re going to snoop around and see what we can find out,” Bernie said. “And in the meantime, I’d keep away from my friends in the Corned Beef and Cabbage Club if I were you. At the very least, don’t go drinking with them. And if you do go drinking with them, take your drink to the can with you when you go.”
Duncan made a face. “That’s gross.”
“But effective.”
A Catered St. Patrick's Day Page 5
