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Chico said with brutal satisfaction, “I told them everything the boss told me. That you promised you’d wear the panties, that you were sending him pics and videos, that you were doing everything you could think of, anything he wanted, if he just wouldn’t fire you.” He raised his shoulders. “You weren’t the first one. You wouldn’t have been the last. It was a lot of money. But I’m sure as hell not going to cover for you. I had to tell them everything that happened, everything that the boss said and did, and he told me that was going to be the big night. That you’d agreed to go back to the beach house after dinner and let him fuck you.”

“You know damn well I didn’t go to the beach house.”

“No, you got cold feet. I told them. If you’d gone with him, you’d have had an extra grand for the kitty and he might still be alive.”

It was like trying to argue with a crazy person. Only Chico wasn’t crazy. He believed what he was saying. Alton was the crazy one.

“Noneof that happened. I don’t know why Alton would make all that bullshit up or why you’d believe something so…sopreposterous. I tossed that box away the minute I got back from Spanish Bay. It was never discussed again.”

Well, sort of.

It was never directly discussed again, and Zachhadthrown the box and lace panties in the wastepaper basket—where it had sat sandwiched between hangers from the dry cleaners and an empty Doritos bag until that morning when, despite his shock at Alton’s death, some instinct warned him to get them out of the house ASAP.

Chico considered. His black gaze glinted as he said, “Maybe it did happen the way you say, GQ. Maybe you wouldn’t play nice and Beacher fired you when he got home that night. I’m not sure that helps you. The way I see it, it gives you a pretty good motive for murder.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Jesus, I wish you could have been there,” Flint said when he got into the Explorer. “That house reallyislike an amusement-park attraction. A skeleton in a butler’s costume slides down the staircase banister anytime the front door opens.”

It was about half an hour after Zach had left Chico and retreated to the safety of Flint’s SUV. He had spent that half an hour trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do, while the skies overhead grew darker and gusts of wind shook the car. The occasional pine cone bounced off the windshield.

Alton’s ludicrous claims about what had happened at Pinch the night before would never hold up. There had been an entire patio full of people who could vouch that Zach had not been sitting on Alton’s lap, let alone the rest of it.Flinthad been there to witness almost the entire evening. And he’d been there at Zach’s request, which right there ought to prove something.

But the other stuff, the supposed video and pics? What in God’s name was happening? Sure, those things could be doctored, but why would Altonbother? Had he planned on blackmailing Zach at some point?

Blackmailing him to do what, though?

If that video, if those pictures ever got out… Even if it was obvious that it wasn’t Zach in them—andwouldit be obvious? Chico hadn’t seemed to have any doubts—it was still humiliating and destructive.

It was a career killer.

Even if people accepted that it wasn’t Zach in the video, the fact that Altonwantedit to be Zach was enough. The damage would be done. It was all people would think of when Davies Detective Agency was mentioned.

Zach Davies? Wasn’t he the guy…

His face flamed, imagining it. The things people would say. The things people would think.

What did Pop used to say?It takes twenty years to build a reputation and five minutes to ruin it.Or for someone else to ruin it.

“It’s just as well you didn’t come in, though. You’re pretty much all she talked about. Your ears must have been burning.”

Zach realized Flint was talking—had been talking since he opened the car door. He said blankly, “What?”

“I said, it’s just as well you didn’t come in. As anticipated, she’s blaming you for her husband’s murder. The thing is, I believe her. That is, I don’t believe she killed him. Assuming he didn’t fake his own death.”

Zach swallowed, the tiny sound audible in the sudden silence.

Flint frowned. “What?”

“I…”

Flint glanced past Zach and then out the window as though trying to find the cause for Zach’s stricken expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I spoke to Chico.”

“Well done. And?”

“And…” The whole story came tumbling out of Zach in a slightly incoherent spill of words.