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“Why do you think he’s so locked into the idea that John was his father?”

“No idea.” Archie could feel Beau’s curious gaze. Sure, he had some idea. John had been rich, handsome, smart, and highly respected. The kind of father figure a kid, whose own social status was a bit shaky, might long for. John was a little eccentric, sure. But not so eccentric that he was regarded as a weirdo or a laughing-stock.

But most importantly, he was kind and supportive and interested. He made you feel as if you mattered. Archie had received a lion’s share of that kindness, support and interest—but so had Desi. And he had also seen John treat Monig very much the same way, even when Monig was being a rude little shit.

Beau said, “It’s not impossible. Mila and John were in medical school together. She moved to Twinkleton to go into practice with John. They had a romantic relationship on and off through the years. And Mila listed Monig’s father as unknown on his birth certificate, which certainly leaves it open to speculation.”

Archie said, “I’m not saying it couldn’t have happened. I’m saying, if it had happened, there’s no way John wouldn’t have acknowledged Monig as his. John loved kids, loved the idea of having a family.” He met Beau’s gaze. “I’m not blind to John’s faults. But just looking at this from the standpoint of victimology, John was kind-hearted. Too kind-hearted, maybe. Sure as hell, too kind to lie to Jon Monig about being his father when anyone can see how desperately Monig wants to believe it.”

“No, I agree,” Beau said. “I don’t see John ducking out on his responsibilities, let alone faking a paternity test. But juries like motives to make sense. Killing John doesn’t resolve any of Monig’s issues, and revenge is always a hard sell.”

True. Revenge as a motive was always problematical for juries. Sane people did not opt for revenge. Sure, they might resort to petty or spiteful behaviors, but full-out, blood-spattered violence was rare. To be believable, it had to be driven by something a jury could identify with: the murder of a child, financial ruin, false imprisonment, you stole my girl… Hollywood movie stuff.

He said a little wearily, “I know.”

“Where are you headed now?”

“Fraser House. I’ve got to check out. Officially.”

Beau nodded, reached out, looped the chain of Archie’s St. Christopher medal around his index finger. He smiled, leaned forward and touched his mouth fleetingly to Archie’s. “Am I seeing you tonight?”

“I hope so.”

“What time do you think the spook show will be over?”

“It’s a séance, so I’m thinking it’s going to run past midnight.”

“The witching hour.”

Archie made a face, smiled reluctantly.

“Are you okay?” Beau asked with unexpected gentleness.

“Me?” Archie was surprised. “Yeah. Of course. Why not?”

Beau smiled faintly, shook his head. “Be careful tonight.”

“I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” Archie assured him.

Beau said seriously, “I am.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

When Archie walked into Leo Baker’s living room, the first person he saw was Professor Jacoby Azizi.

“There’s a BOLO out for you,” Archie informed him, which perhaps explained why Archie wasn’t invited to a lot of D.C. cocktail parties.

Azizi was not someone who could hide in a crowd. He was tall and thin with black eyes and long, artificially jet-black hair. He always dressed in black. When he’d been twenty, it had probably been pretty effective. He was seventy now, so it was still effective, but maybe not in the way he intended. The professor appeared to be drinking a Stinger. He lowered his glass, raised his winged eyebrows, and said forbiddingly, “Do I know you, young man?”

Leo, who had moved to greet Archie, said, “Jac, you remember John’s godson, Archie. He’s an FBI agent now.” Leo squeezed Archie’s arm affectionately, and said, “I’m glad you decided to join us tonight. John will be too.”

Archie had no answer for that. Luckily, no answer was required.

“Jac didn’t know the police were looking for him till we filled him in a little while ago. We told him he needs to turn himself in.” Priscilla kissed Archie’s cheek. “We’re so happy you’re here, kiddo.”

“Turn myself in for what?” protested Azizi. “I haven’t done anything! The very idea that I would harm John is absurd. He was one of my dearest friends. I’m devastated that we’ve lost him.”

“Not lost,” Leo corrected. “John merely stands behind the veil. A veil that we’ll perhaps manage to lift for a short while tonight. What will you have to drink, Archie?”