“But what about Pierce?”

He hoped she couldn’t read his expression. “Holiday romance.”

“It’s not a holiday romance, it’s a long-distance romance. Those can work.”

He forced himself to say, “Yeah, I don’t think so. We don’t really have a lot in common, you know.”

“It doesn’t take a lot of things, it takes key things. Quality not quantity.”

“You’re an expert?”

“I’m an informed observer. My parents have been blissfully happy for over fifty years. He’s a damned Dem and she’s a Republican. They argue almost constantly, they have virtually nothing in common, and they can’t bear to be away from each other for more than a day.”

Griff smiled. “That’s nice.”

“It is. You do care about Pierce, right? You look at him like you’re crazy about him.”

Griff shifted uncomfortably on the wooden stool.

“Sorry,” Diana said. “Am I out of line? Don’t answer that. Now. Do you really know who took Brian?”

“I don’t have any proof, and without it, I’m going to sound delusional. In fact, half the time I think I am delusional. Apparently it runs in the family.”

Diana chatted at him a while longer while he finished his breakfast. “I’ve got to go,” she said at last. “I’m meeting a buyer at eleven.”

“See you.” Griff rose, put his dishes and her coffee cup in the dishwasher.

“I hope so.” She continued to stand there, eyeing him speculatively.

“Something wrong?” Griff asked.

“Has Pierce told you about Roberto?”

“Who?” Griff’s stomach did a dive. He should have realized somebody like Pierce would have a complicated social life.

“Roberto was Pierce’s boyfriend in college. I thought he might have mentioned him to you.” She was still giving him that critical look.

“No.”

“Nobody mentioned Roberto?”

“No.”

Her eyes squinched shut in what appeared to be a full body wince. “God. Pierce is right. I really am a blabbermouth.” She opened her eyes. “Well, too late now. Anyway, I think you should know. I think it would help. Pierce wasn’t out in college. I mean, you’ve met him. He’s not exactly...” She gestured helplessly.

“Flamboyant?”

“Right. He’s conservative by nature. Well, he’s a lawyer. That pretty much sums it up. Anyway, he did fall in love with a boy in college. Roberto Castiglioni. And Roberto was out and he was...well, he was a Rastafarian. Which right there—”

“Wait a sec,” Griff interrupted. “Pierce used to be with a Rastafarian named Roberto?”

“Yes. He had blond dreadlocks. Bertie, not Pierce.”

“Bertie? That was his nickname?”

Diana nodded. “He was gorgeous. Truly. Blond, blue eyes...he always had this gold stubble on his jaw. Like you this morning. Anyway, Roberto wanted Pierce to come out too. And Pierce wouldn’t, and eventually they split up over it.”

“That’s understandable,” Griff said. He meant the splitting up over Pierce not being out, but actually the only part that wasn’t understandable was how Pierce had wound up dating a blond Rastafarian named Roberto. Bertie.

He was fascinated and uncomfortable. No way should he be having this conversation with Pierce’s sister.

“Yes. It is. Absolutely. Not taking sides. But Roberto held a grudge. He was really angry. Bitterly angry. And eventually he told Pierce that if he didn’t pay him ten thousand dollars, Roberto would out Pierce to our parents. Pierce refused and that’s exactly what Roberto did. He drove out here and threw a monumental scene at a big dinner party in front of our parents and a houseful of their closest friends.”

Griff tried and failed to imagine the rules of etiquette for that particular social occasion. What fork did you use for skewering your ex-boyfriend?

“And that’s the story of how my brother came out to our parents and most of the people we grew up with. Pierce has never gotten involved, really involved, with anyone since. That’s what I mean by he has trust issues.”

“I guess that would do it.”

“But in just a few days he’s managed to get more involved with you than anyone in the last ten years.”

“I...”

“I think you’re really good for him.”

Griff recovered enough to say, “I think you’re going to be late meeting your client.”

“I think you’re right.” She made a face and grabbed her purse. “Don’t tell Pierce I told you any of that. He’ll slay me.”

“Uh, I’m not sure keeping things from Pierce is the right way to help him work through his trust issues.”

Diana laughed. “See. I knew you were the right man for him!”

* * *

Overnight Jarrett Arlington had grown old. Old and frail.

Griff, uncomfortably aware of Michaela listening to every word from her chair in her father’s private hospital room, stood beside the old man’s bed watching him struggle for breath.

“I want you to find out who did this.” Jarrett’s voice was hardly more than a whisper. It wasn’t the heart attack that was going to kill him, it was grief. Would knowing the truth be better or worse? All the life was bleeding out of him. He was gray-faced and the hand feebly gripping Griff’s wrist was ice cold.

“Mr. Arlington, I’m not a detective.” Griff was being as gentle as he could, but that was the truth. He wasn’t equipped to solve a murder. He covered crime stories, he didn’t solve crimes. The fact that he held the solution to the mystery that had haunted the Arlingtons for two decades was partly luck and partly his own grotesque involvement. “I want to help, but we’ve got to let the police handle this.”

Jarrett’s fingers tightened and Griff shut up. Jarrett’s colorless lips moved. “I want the truth. I don’t care how painful. I have to know.”

“I know. I’ll help any way I can.” But Griff couldn’t help seeing that even part of the truth was liable to be too much of a shock.

Beneath half-closed eyes, Jarrett was watching him. There was a fierce spark in his drugged gaze. “You were willing to find out what happened at the beginning. There’s a reason you’re here at the end.”

Griff nodded mechanically.

Jarrett coughed and wet his lips. “It’s full circle. You wanted the story. It’s yours.”

“I didn’t want...” He stopped again at the fierce press of Jarrett’s clammy fingers.

“It’s yours. It’s your story. Find out for me what really happened.”

Griff compromised, “I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Good. You’re a good boy.” Jarrett closed his eyes. “You remind me...”

He was sleeping again. Griff carefully freed himself and went out into the hall. He felt shaken. That had been much harder than he expected.

The door to the private room opened and Michaela followed him into the antiseptic-smelling hall. She looked nearly as ill as her father. Her eyes were red-rimmed and there were lines carved into her face.

She said, keeping her voice low, “If you really want to be of use, tell Pierce to make sure the police don’t arrest Chloe. He’s not answering my calls.”

“Are they really looking at Chloe as a suspect?”

“Thanks to my sister, yes. Last night I thought they would arrest Marcus, but after Muriel told them Chloe threatened Brian, they seem to be focusing on Chloe.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s being questioned by Nassau P.D. Ring is with her. I can’t leave Daddy. Muriel is...” She didn’t finish the thought.

Griff watched her expression. “What do you think happened last night?”

Despite her exhaustion, anger blazed in Michaela’s eyes. “How should I know?”

“If the only thing the police have on Chloe is an argument before the party, that’s not much.”

“Of course that’s all they have! There isn’t anything else. She didn’t do it.”

Griff suggested, “Maybe the police were on the right track with Marcus?”

“Are you crazy? Marcus? What would the motive be?”

“Money?”

“Money?” She sounded like it was a foreign concept, something abstruse and absurd.