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“Why did you go investigating without me?” Daneca demands, clearly done with being a hostess. “I thought we were in this together.”
“It was on the way,” I say. “Sam mostly waited in the car. Anyway, the police and the Feds were already through there. I just wanted to see if I noticed anything they wouldn’t.”
“Like the cigarette?”
“I see Sam told you about that. Yeah, like the cigarette. But that came later, I’m pretty sure.”
“Cassel, I know this is hard to hear, but she has every reason to want to kill your brother. You said he kidnapped her.”
I’m probably thinking about this the wrong way, but right now I regret telling them anything. The problem with starting to talk is that the parts you leave out become really obvious. Plus there’s the temptation to just reveal everything.
And I can’t do that. Now that I have friends, I don’t want to lose them.
“I know,” I say, “but I don’t think she did it. She didn’t seem guilty at his funeral.”
“But she went to the funeral,” Daneca says, insisting. Sam isn’t saying anything, but I can see him nod along with her. “Why would she even go to the funeral of someone she hated? Murderers do that. I’ve read about it.”
“Revisiting the scene—,” Sam starts.
“Philip wasn’t killed at a funeral parlor! Besides, she came there with Zacharov,” I say. “He wanted to offer me a job.”
“What kind of job?” Daneca asks.
“The kind you don’t talk about,” I say. “The kind that gets you a big fat keloid necklace and a new nickname.”
“You didn’t take it, right?” she says. I am pretty sure that, like the Feds, Daneca and Sam have come to the conclusion that I’m a death worker along the lines of Grandad.
I pull at the collar of my shirt. “You want to see my throat?”
“Oh, come on,” she says. “Just answer the question.”
“I didn’t take the job,” I say. “Honest. And I have no plans to. And I want some of the iced tea that Sam has. With a mint sprig, please.”
Daneca smiles tightly and hops down from her stool. “Fine, but that doesn’t mean we’re done discussing Lila. I mean clearly you’ve got a crazy, epic thing for her—but that doesn’t mean that she’s not a suspect.”
I try not to take it too hard that even though Lila has been worked to love me, I’m the one whose feelings are obvious. “Okay. What if she did kill my brother? Will knowing that help anyone?”
“It’ll help you protect her,” Sam says. “If you want to.”
I look at him in surprise, because it’s not at all what I expected him to say. It’s also absolutely true.
“Okay,” I say. “Okay. Is it really that obvious I’m into her?” I think of Audrey, practically saying the same thing outside the cafeteria. I must be pathetic.
“We went to the movies together,” Daneca says. “Last night. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “That.”
Sam frowns as Daneca pours my tea.
“Maybe you should just call and ask if she killed Philip,” Sam says.
“No!” says Daneca. “If you do that, then she’s going to put on an act. Hide evidence. We have to make a plan.”
“Okay.” I hold up my hand. “I don’t think Lila did this. I really don’t. It’s not that I think she’s not capable of killing someone. I’m sure she is. And I’m sure she hated Philip, although if she was going to kill one of my brothers, I’m pretty sure she would have started with Barron. But she—I know this isn’t going to sound convincing—she really likes me. Like, likes me so much that I don’t think she’d do something that would hurt me or make me hate her.”
They both exchange a glance.
“You’re a charming dude,” Sam says carefully. “But no one is that charming.”
