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So John.

“He was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known,” Ms. Madison said. “Not just kind. Proactive in his generosity and advocacy.” She removed her glasses, wiped the lenses with a little cloth, and replaced them. “Questions?”

On no planet was the unexpected inheritance of significant wealth bad news.

All the same, when Archie walked out of the office of Madison Law, his uppermost feeling was shock.

He’d understood that John was comfortably off, perhaps wealthy by most people’s standards. Archie had received a Toyota Supra on his sixteenth birthday, but Beau had received a Jeep Grand Wagoneer, and then-Police Chief Langham had not been a rich man, by any stretch. John had not blinked at the idea of paying for Archie to go to law school—John had not blinked at the idea of anything financial, but he had not flaunted his wealth. He did not spend money extravagantly. Archie had just figured…

Well, he hadn’t thought too much about it, frankly.

There was a kid for you.

But also, he’d been a little preoccupied when he’d arrived in Twinkleton. It had never occurred to him to question, well, anything. His focus had been on getting through school and joining the FBI, which had represented…perhaps too much.

Not that he regretted his career choices. But he regretted decisions he had made along the way. Not being there for Beau. He regretted that. Not being there for John. He regretted that. Kyle. That one made him heartsick.

As he stood on the sidewalk, waiting for his Uber to arrive, his cell phone rang again.

He glanced at the caller ID and his heart skipped.

Beau.

He pressed accept, and was relieved to be able to say normally, “Hi.”

“Are you still meeting with the lawyer?”

“We just finished up.”

There was a hesitation on Beau’s end of the line. “Everything okay?”

Beau would already know what Archie had just learned. Maybe not down to the decimal points, but he’d have learned how much money was at stake when he’d contacted Ms. Madison on Sunday. At that point, Beau would have recognized how strong a motive, in theory, Archie had for committing murder.

Archie expelled a careful breath. “Yes. A few surprises. Which I assume you already know about. I’ll fill you in tonight.”

Another brief pause before Beau asked, “Where are you headed now?”

“Don’t worry. I’m going back to John’s.”

To his surprise, Beau asked, “Would you like to drop by the station and observe Jon Monig’s interrogation?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Beau was waiting for Archie at the police station entrance.

Conscious of the steely gaze of the burly front desk officer, Archie nodded a curt greeting.

Beau gave him a close look, but said only, “Swenson’s got Monig in the interview room now.”

“Swenson?” Archie echoed.

“Certainly. He’s my lead detective.” Beau held open the door to the main office, winked at the front desk officer, and nodded for Archie to take the hall to the right.

Archie said nothing as they strode down the corridor, but Beau seemed to read his mind. “We don’t get a lot of homicides. Swenson needs the experience.”

Archie glanced sideways. “Sure. I just wish this particular interview wasn’t his practice run.”

“It isn’t. You were his practice run.” Beau’s smile was sardonic.