A Catered St. Patrick's Day (5 page)
Read A Catered St. Patrick's Day Online
Authors: Isis Crawford
“We’re not everyone,” Libby pointed out.
“Point taken,” Duncan said, and he began to talk.
Bernie and Libby both noted that even though Duncan had initially been reluctant to say anything, he seemed to relax as he talked. There were no hesitations. No pauses. He was absolutely clear in his recitation. As if he’d rehearsed it, Bernie and Libby both thought. Or being more charitable, maybe it was because by this time Duncan had told the story so many times.
He took them through Brandon throwing the Corned Beef and Cabbage Club out of the bar and about Brandon coming out and finding Sweeney trying to pry open one of the barrels of beer.
“Brandon was pissed, man,” Duncan recounted. “He just clocked him one. Right in the jaw. Sweeney went down for the count.”
“But he came back up?” Bernie asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. Although she hadn’t said anything to anyone, she was anxious that the defense might try to prove that Mike Sweeney had a concussion, which was a contributing factor in his death.
“Yeah,” Duncan said. “He was fine. Don’t worry.”
Bernie smiled.
“Sweeney was a hardheaded son of a bitch,” Duncan told her. “I’ll give him that. I mean I told him not to do that. I told him he was making too much noise. I told him to wait, but hey—when Sweeney got an idea in his head, he went for it and there was nothing you could do to stop it.”
“And then what happened after Sweeney got up?” Libby inquired.
“Nothing happened,” Duncan replied. “We went home.”
“We?” Bernie asked.
“Liza Sepranto and I.”
“You two an item?” Libby asked. Somehow she couldn’t see the two together. Bree was right about that. Duncan was ultrapreppy and Liza was Jersey Shore.
“We’re friends,” Duncan said, emphasizing the word friends. “Good friends.”
“We get it,” Bernie said. “How’d you get home?” Libby asked.
“How do you think?” Duncan sneered. “I got in my vehicle and drove Liza and myself back to my place. Then we went upstairs and passed out.”
Bernie raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you afraid of getting a DWI?”
“Nah. I know most of the cops, and anyway I drive better drunk than some people do sober.”
Arrogant son of a bitch, Libby thought as she asked him if anyone could swear that he and Liza entered his apartment complex and hadn’t come out again until after nine.
“Nope.” Duncan’s tongue darted out and licked his lower lip. “Didn’t see anyone. Guess they must have been asleep when we came in. I didn’t meet anyone when I parked my car and we didn’t meet anyone in the elevator either.”
“And in the morning?” Bernie asked.
Duncan shook his head. “Guess they’d all gone off to work.”
“It’s unfortunate your building doesn’t have a doorman,” Bernie observed.
“Isn’t it though?” Duncan snapped back. “Well, the next time I’m accused of murder I’ll make sure and rent a place that has one.”
“Rent?” Bernie asked.
“Sublet actually. Why? Do you have a problem with that? Cem pan” Duncan asked.
“No,” Bernie replied. “I’m just surprised. I thought you’d have a co-op.”
“I sold mine last year.”
“And you didn’t buy another?” Bernie asked.
“No. It doesn’t make economic sense right now. Do you want me to explain why?” Duncan asked in a condescending tone.
“Not really,” Bernie replied. “What I want you to do is tell me where Liza took off to.”
Duncan gave a half shrug. “I don’t know. She was gone when I got up and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Have you tried getting in touch with her?” Libby asked Duncan.
He gave an exasperated snort. “What do you think? Of course I looked. As have the police and my lawyer. She’s just disappeared.”
“Why would she do that?” Bernie asked.
“Haven’t a clue,” Duncan said. “Maybe she got nervous and split.”
“That seems like an odd thing to do,” Libby observed.
“She’s an odd girl,” Duncan said.
“Any idea where she’d go?”
“None,” Duncan said. “Believe me, if I did I would have told the police.”
“Would you have?” Bernie asked.
Duncan scowled. “Why? Don’t you believe me?”
“No. I’m not sure I do,” Bernie told him.
“But I do,” Libby said, jumping into the conversation before Duncan had a chance to reply. “How about the other people in the group?” she asked. “What did they do?”
Duncan shrugged. “As far as I know, everyone drove themselves home and went off to nighty-night land.”
“Including Sweeney?” said Libby, thinking back to what Clyde had told them.
“Yeah, including Sweeney,” Duncan replied.
“I thought he left with you,” Libby said.
Duncan leaned over and pulled up one of his socks. “Whatever gives you that idea?”
“The police.”
“Well, that’s one of the many facts they’ve gotten wrong,” said Duncan as he pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand.
“Wasn’t anyone concerned about Sweeney getting behind the wheel of a car?” Bernie asked.
Duncan gave her an incredulous look. “Why?”
Libby opened her eyes wide. “Duh. Because he had been knocked out cold.”
Duncan shook his head at the apparent idiocy of her statement. “Duh yourself. He was knocked out all the time on the football field. It never bothered him before, so why should it have bothered him then?”
“Good point,” Bernie said. “Did you see Sweeney leave?”
Duncan shook his head again. “Liza and I were the first ones out of there.”
“May I ask why?” Libby inquired.
Duncan leered. “What do you think?”
“Besides that,” Bernie said.
Duncan rubbed his hands together. “Frankly, I’d had enough, and to be honest with you I didn’t want to be around if Sweeney pulled any more stuff.”
“Which he was prone to do?” Libby asked.
Dun Cem"
“So Sweeney either did or didn’t go home,” Bernie said, thinking out loud.
“No, he went home all right,” Duncan interrupted. “Liam said he saw him drive away.”
Bernie leaned forward. “And then for some reason he came back and sometime between three and nine in the morning, someone drowned him in a barrel of green beer. Is that correct?”
Duncan looked down at his fingernails. “That’s what they tell me.”
“They?” Bernie said.
“The lawyers and the cops.”
Libby shifted her position on the sofa to get more comfortable. It was a great-looking sofa, but it was too deep for her. “And what do your friends tell you?”
Duncan looked Libby and Bernie directly in the eyes and said, “They don’t know anything either.”
Bernie smiled. “Amazing, how no one knows anything, isn’t it, Libby?”
“Absolutely, Bernie,” Libby replied.
“Ask my friends,” Duncan cried, doing a passable imitation of outrage.
“Don’t worry,” Bernie told him. “We intend to.”
“Be my guest,” Duncan told her, giving both Libby and Bernie a sullen look.
“And there’s nothing more you want to add to what you’ve already told us?” Libby asked him.
Duncan shook his head. “Persistent, aren’t you? I told you I was asleep.”
Libby sat back. She frowned. “Then why did the police arrest you?”
“Because they’re idiots.”
“Aside from that?” Bernie asked.
“They claim they found my wallet near the barrel Sweeney was drowned in, but that was because I must have dropped it there earlier in the evening. Also my fingerprints were on the steering wheel of his car, but that was because I’d started his car earlier in the day when it had stalled out.”
Interesting, Bernie thought. Clyde hadn’t told her dad anything about that. She wondered if Clyde was holding out on him or he didn’t know. She’d vote for the latter possibility.
“So all the police have is circumstantial evidence?” Bernie asked.
Duncan nodded his head vigorously. “That is correct.”
“And you have no motive for killing Sweeney?”
“No. Absolutely not. I mean I’ve known the guy since high school.”
“And you were good friends?”
Duncan shrugged. “We drifted apart a little when we went to college, but then we reconnected when everyone moved back. No. I feel terrible. Absolutely terrible. Mike was the greatest guy in the world. I can’t imagine who would want him dead.”
“So you didn’t threaten to kill Sweeney at a party two days before he died?” Bernie asked.
Duncan passed his hand over his face. “I was pissed, okay? And I was drinking. When I drink I say things. But I don’t mean them.”
“Why were you pissed?” Bernie asked.
Duncan looked down at his hands. “I don’t remember.”
“Really,” Bernie said.
“Yes, really,” Duncan replied. He took his cell Ctoo">
“Because you have miles to go before you sleep?” Bernie asked.
Duncan gave her a blank look.
“It’s a riff on a line from Robert Frost,” Bernie explained.
“Who’s that?” Duncan asked. “Some rapper?”
“No,” Bernie shot back. “A player for the Jets.”
“Really?” Duncan said.
Bernie just shook her head in disgust. “No. Not really. He’s a famous American poet.”
“Whatever,” Duncan said.
Libby decided that he was clearly bored with the conversation. She didn’t say anything. She just watched Duncan for a moment. Then she leaned back, reached in the pocket of her hoodie, took out a chocolate kiss, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. “I have a question for you before we go,” she said to Duncan, after the chocolate had dissolved on her tongue.
Duncan planted his feet on the floor, leaned forward, clasped his hands, and rested his arms on his knees. “Yeah? Make it short, because I really have a lot of stuff I have to do.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Well, it hasn’t seemed to make any difference,” he snapped at Libby.
“I’m just curious about one thing.”
Duncan’s left leg started jiggling up and down. “I’m waiting,” he said when Libby didn’t say anything else.
“How come your aunt is paying for your lawyer?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. She was just curious to see what Duncan was going to say.
Duncan gave her a blank look. “That’s it?”
Libby nodded. “That’s it.”
“I don’t get the question.”
“The question is simple,” Libby went on. “From what I hear, you’re a very rich man, a man who could easily afford the one hundred thousand dollars, even the two hundred thousand it costs to mount a defense, let alone post a bond for bail, and yet your aunt is doing it. And not only is she doing it, but she’s letting you live in her guest cottage as well.”
“That’s because the lawyers thought it would be better,” Duncan replied, a sullen tone creeping into his voice.
“Why is that?” Libby asked, noting as she did that Duncan had stopped tapping his foot.
Duncan glared at her. “Ask them if you’re so interested. See, I knew hiring you was a mistake.” He started to get up. “I think we’re just about done here.”
Libby stayed where she was. “You know what I think?” she said. “I think that if we asked around we’d find that you’re living in your aunt’s guest house because you’re behind on your rent. In fact, I bet we’d find you’re in the process of being evicted. Am I right?”
“My money is tied up right now,” Duncan told her stiffly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“And that’s why your aunt is paying for your defense as well?” Bernie asked.
“I’ll pay her back,” Duncan said. “She knows that. I’m just not very liquid right now.”
“So what happened?” Bernie asked him.
“What do you mean ‘w Cyouthe hat happened’?” Duncan demanded.
“I mean what happened to your money?”
Duncan adjusted a button on his shirt. “You wouldn’t understand,” he told her. “It’s very complicated.”
“You’re probably right,” Bernie said. “I don’t understand all this high finance stuff.” She turned to Libby. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Mike Sweeney involved in the finance business?”
“I believe he was,” Libby replied.
“And didn’t he trade something like derivatives?”
“Right again,” Libby said.
“And aren’t those very volatile?” Bernie asked.
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