“Paul Goertz was a murderer,” I said quietly. “Anyone can murder, Mutt. Trust me on this.”
“Jordan.” Rufus spoke from his silence near the bar. “I known your uncle Mutt for a damned long time. He ain't lying to you. There ain't no murderer here.”
“Paul was sick,” Mutt said. “And Lolly was sick.”
I ignored his assertion. “Family circles. Codes of silence.” I glared hard into Mutt's bright blue eyes. “I can keep a code. If I get what I want.”
Mutt stared back at me for what seemed like an eon. He did not breathe. Finally, he closed his eyes in hard, sad resignation. “Rufus, would you please take Uncle Jake up to bed? He needs his rest.”
“Rest my ass,” Jake retorted. “I ain't sleeping any with this storm howling.”
“Jake, please. Let me handle this discussion with Jordan. Go get your rest.”
“I ain't sleeping. But Rufus can warm me up some milk in the kitchen, if you've a need for private talk.” Rufus helped him to his feet.
“You might want to use canned milk, Uncle Jake. Safer that way,” I suggested coldly.
Jake didn't answer, and the two of them shuffled out of the room. Mutt stood and began to pace, slowly, across the worn tapestry of the Persian rug. His shoulders bowed as if bent.
I'll bend those shoulders when I break your back. I steeled myself for the performance I had to give now. Can-dace was depending on me. I could not bear to look into her face, see the misery my family had inflicted on her, without saying: This person did it. This person hurt you. And I exacted payment.
“You know,” I said, “you're defending your own sister's murderer.”
He stopped and shook his head. “No. If poison was involved, Lolly killed herself.”
“You expect me to believe we have a suicide followed by two attempted murders? Please.”
“That's right. Your father bragged you had quite a hand in solving crimes. Ironic.” He smiled thinly at me and I fought an urge to slap him across the room.
“I'll keep my silence about what happened to Paul,” I said. Fake puzzlement crossed his face and I blew it away with soft words. “I know my father killed Paul in self-defense, and the lot of you covered it up to protect him. It doesn't sound to me like Paul was any great loss to humanity.” I kept my voice steady, feeling the weight of Mutt's unrelenting stare on my face. “But one of you who kept that secret is willing to kill to keep it still. For some reason, one of you feels threatened. By Lolly, by Aubrey. Why don't y'all come forward together, confess? Then the murderer has no reason to kill.”
“This little story of yours is enthrallin', Jordan. Makes no sense, but-”
“I have proof Paul didn't kill himself. I've found it. And I'm betting it's proof Aubrey had. I have reason to believe he had possession of it before I did.”
“What proof?” Mutt demanded, a half smile on his face. “I'd like to see the proof that can make fiction reality.”
“I'm tired of sparring with you.” I stood. “You're a coward, Uncle Mutt. You're dying soon, so what does it matter what happens? I'm going to know, whether you help me or not, who poisoned Candace. Who tried to kill her, who killed my baby.”
The most horrible silence I'd ever heard in my life was the pause before he spoke. “I can't help you,” Mutt answered. His words sounded like a whisper of farewell.
I wanted to pull the skin from his bones. Instead I made my smile thin and measured. “Then I can't help you. I'll have to give the authorities the evidence I've got. Oh, I'm sure that Paul's murder of his wife and his threats to Gretchen and Pop will be considered. My father may not get into too much trouble. Or he may go to jail. But whoever's committing these murders loses their motive, now and forever. Maybe you won't go to prison since you're terminally ill, and no one's going to put a man Jake's age in prison. But Pop and Sass will have to answer for what they did. And so will anyone else who knows who doesn't tell.” I tinged my pronouncement with more bravado than I felt. I winced inwardly at the humiliation Pop would feel if his actions were brought to light. But that pain was nothing compared with what Candace had endured.
Hard, hard choice. But in the cold light of reason, not a choice at all.
Mutt breathed, not speaking. “You won't do this to your father. Not after you just found him.”
“Yes, I will. Because protecting him is the same as protecting the poisoner. I won't do it. I can't. He killed my child.” My actor's mask cracked on those words, and the hate and anger I felt glided through. Mutt saw the truth of it.
“Oh, God,” he moaned. The gun still dangled in his mutilated hand. I pointed at it.
“Are you going to shoot me? You can't kill me and explain it away with a dramatic suicide or poison left behind by a dead woman.”
He glanced at the gun, then at me. His hand shook.
“It's Philip.”
A chill prickled my skin. “So you say. Convince me.”
Mutt carefully placed the gun on the bar and his shoulders sagged. “He's obsessed with ruining me, with exacting revenge on me. And now he's screwing the entire family.”
“Tell me.”
“He-I let him manage some of my finances for a while. It was a tremendous mistake. He lost everything I entrusted him with. Fortunately, I was prudent in how much I let him handle.
“At first I thought it was simply bad management, poor investment choices. But it wasn't the stock market taking an unexpected dip. Philip stole the money.”
“I don't understand. Why didn't you report him-”
“He's blood. Blood counts to us. And I couldn't just turn in my nephew.”
“So you let him walk scot-free. And gave him a chance to steal from you again. With Wendy dipping her hand into the till, too.”
“No. Wendy's on my side. I suspected with my death practically being a circled day on Philip's calendar, he'd be after what money he could get out of me, 'cause there's nothing for him in my will.” He shook his head at my scowl. “So I got Wendy to approach him, pretend that she could land some of my money if he'd tell her what investments she ought to suggest to me. He fell for it, and I started to move my money around, just like tossing a ball to a dog so he don't chase a cat.”
“This is crazy. Why would he want to hurt Lolly? Or Aubrey?”
“Lolly committed suicide. I ain't telling you that again, boy.”
At that moment I feared him. Implacable anger limned his words. I still found his premise ridiculous, but the heat in his tone suggested Lolly, even if suicidal, was not the only unbalanced member of the family.
“Okay, say Lolly killed herself and her death has nothing to do with Philip. Then why would he try to kill Aubrey?”
“Codes of silence, remember? Say nothing?”
“Just tell me.”
“Aubrey ran away from Sass when he was a teenager. He went to Houston. He got involved in the drug trade, as a runner. He ain't real proud of those days.”
“Good God.” Aubrey, freely dispensing advice, trying to place a mental Band-Aid on the emotional wounds we dared to show. I wondered how much human wreckage he'd seen in his days of coke and roses.
“Philip was dealing drugs, trading a lot with the other stockbrokers in town, the lowlifes who thought they were big shits. Aubrey made a delivery to Philip, not knowing his own cousin was a dealer.”
“As things go, that's not so bad.”
“Perhaps.” Mutt didn't appear convinced. “But it gets worse. Aubrey found out Philip was dealing to Tom-his own brother. Tom was nearly dead from snorting coke. And Philip was still dealing it hard to him.”
My throat felt cold. “Feeding his own brother's addiction?”
“Yes. Philip's the most heartless animal on this planet.”
“Yet you're willing to protect him.”
Mutt shook his head. “Aubrey probably was going to write all about Philip in his new book. Philip was never arrested, never suspected as far as I know, of dealing drugs. He'd lose his business, his freedom, if this all came to light.”