Destroying an eighteen-year marriage was definitely murder worthy—depending on your perspective. And since David's gun was the murder weapon it reasoned he was the most likely killer.

       All I needed to do was get a confession.

       The sky outside was pink and luminous; the sun hid behind the distant skyline though it did little to dull the heat. The terrace was paved with simple concrete accented with symmetrical bushes that lined both sides. A garden just beyond it was impeccably manicured with holly bushes and blue sage flowers.

       David had staggered further into the gardens. It was a good place for privacy. A good place for a confrontation, too. The cobblestone trail that led straight through was lit by a string of softly glowing pathway lights.

       I stepped fully into the garden then hurried after David. He hadn't gotten far since his inebriated state basically left him toddling like a two-year-old. I could see his hunched form hobbling about seven yards ahead so I powered forward. I caught up to him just as he was stumbling past an ornate stone bench.

       "David Howell!" I called to him.

       He turned back, his face a mask of bewilderment. "Huh?"

       I hurried over, worried someone would overhear, but the chunk of land we'd entered was empty of noisy prying ears. "I know your dirty secret."

       He shrugged. "So does everyone else."

       "Not that secret." I stepped closer into his space, but my comparatively smaller body probably wasn't much to be intimidated by. "I know you killed Noah Walker."

       His face scrunched together; his eyes narrowed. "Noah...Walker..."

       There were a few seconds of awkward silence, but he didn't say anything else. "...So, you admit it!"

       "Admit?"

       "That you killed Noah Walker."

       Finally, the light of recognition breached his eyes. "Noah Walker! Noah Walker killed my marriage!"

       Keep your cool, Evie. "And then you killed him!"

       He put a hand to his forehead like he had a fever then pressed his eyes closed. When he opened them, they shined, glossy as two pools of water. "I love my wife..." His shoulders began quaking. He sniffled and sunk to the ground. And then, to my utter horror, he started sobbing.

       My stern pose relaxed. I crouched down until we were level. "I'm trying to confront you with scandalous information. Can you please keep it together?"

       Tears ran freely down his cheeks. His voice cracked. "I kept it together for forty-four years. I deserve some leniency!"

       As he huffed and puffed, I caught the pungent scent of liquor. "Oh my god, you are stinking drunk!"

       He smiled as snot dribbled from his nose. "Yeah!" I wonder if he even remembers his own name let alone Noah's.

       I scoffed, "Can you get undrunk? I have questions."

       He swayed back and forth. "Questions?"

       "About when you murdered Noah."

       He blinked then wiped the snot from his nose with the sleeve of his expensive suit. "That little shit was alive last time I saw him."

       "And when was that?"

       He paused in thought, staring off across the grounds like he was contemplating the meaning of existence. A thin sheen of sweat washed across his face. A look of pain marred his features. "Did I ever tell you about the time I ran the hundred meter in four point four seconds?"

       "That seems dubious."

       His head snapped my way. The layer of sweat was thicker, I think. He looked glossier somehow. "Are you calling me a liar?"

        "Yes, but you really should be more concerned that I called you a murderer."

       "Well, to that I say—" He jolted forward with no warning. His jaws jerked open and thick green bile spewed forth from his mouth.

       I jumped back; my shoes just barely spared being ruined by a puke shower. "Ew! Gross!" As I watched vomit run free and settle into the cracks in the stone underfoot, my perseverance finally snapped. That's it! If he fucks up my shoes, I'm sending him straight to hell with Noah!

        I looked up at David with disgust but his pale, weak expression made me feel sorry for him. Just a little bit...

       When he caught his breath, he wiped at his mouth with the same sleeve he'd wiped the snot with then looked up at me with big doughy eyes. "Oh...sorry. I—" But he couldn't say anymore. Instead, he rolled forward and landed in his own vomit.

       I stared down at his lifeless body, then turned around to look for help but saw we were utterly alone in the garden. I could go for help, but I don't think he'd appreciate more witnesses for the sorry state he was in. Anyway, he was breathing just fine.

       "Well, shit." I sighed then went to wait on the bench.

**********

       It took him ten minutes to wake up. Once he did, he threw up twice more, then curled up in a ball on the perfectly manicured lawn and cried. David Howell, it turned out, was the worst kind of drunk. Well, I guess the worst type is the violent type who would have taken my accusations as invitation to whoop my ass instead of crying, but the pathetic crying type isn't much better.

       "Are you feeling better now?" I asked when I sensed a break in the crying.

       He raised his head from where he'd had it hanging between his knees and nodded weakly. "Much. You're going to get a hell of a tip for this."

        I rose from the bench and went to stand over him. "I'm not a waitress."

       He looked me up and down. "Oh."

       "I'm a private investigator."

       He leaned back, bracing his head on the side of the stone bench. "How interesting. What are you investigating?"

       "...You..."

        He leaned forward. "Me? You work for my wife?"

      "No. I'm investigating the murder of Noah Walker." I thought for sure we got through this part already.

      "How do you know him?"

       "You don't remember me, do you?"

       "Should I?"

       "It doesn't matter." I crossed my arms over my chest and hoped to God I looked somewhat intimidating. "As I was saying, I know you murdered Noah."

       I looked at me like I was some kind of lunatic. "I didn't kill him."

       "Yet he was murdered with your gun."

       "He...was?" That was a hell of a bluff if the police hadn't tracked the gun back to him yet. If it wasn't David's gun, then this interrogation was fucked. If it was...

       My face was a cool mask. "Oh, yeah. Your gun, your fingerprints."

       He swallowed so hard his whole body trembled. "It's not a crime to own a firearm, but it is a crime to steal one."

       Was that an admission that it was his gun? "Are you saying someone stole your gun to kill Noah? I'd work on that story before the cops come. Its wild."

       "I'm telling the truth!" He straightened up his back but otherwise stayed seated. "Noah stole that gun from me."

       That was half a confession. "Now I'm supposed to believe that hundred-pound Poindexter stole the gun from you then, what, killed himself?"

      "I don't know what happened after that!"

       "Sure. So, there's a dead body next to your gun and you had nothing to do with it. I'm sure the police will buy it."

       "I didn't want to kill him!" He groaned as he buried his head in his hands.

       I watched him shaking on the ground then filled in the rest of his thought. "You just wanted to scare him?" He didn't look up but he nodded his head. "I see. The gun was a threat, but he wrestled it away from you."

       "I just wanted him to stop...but he was relentless." He raised his head and stared off into the gardens again. "It was never enough money. You paid him his price then he'd just come back later and want more."

       "Why didn't you go to the police? Having an affair isn't a crime."

       He sighed. "You don't understand." Bracing himself on the bench, he rose to his feet. "People can't know that I'm..."

       "...Gay?"

       "I'm not gay!" He snapped.

       "Bi. Sorry."

       "I'm not bi either." He tried to straighten out, but the world must have still been spinning because he slumped down on the bench as if gravity had a personal vendetta against him alone. "Sometimes I have these...deviant urges."

       I shook my head, interrupting his pity party. "You're a deviant alright, but not because of who you cheated with. It's that you cheated at all."

       "Yeah, well, my circle's not as open-minded as you. I'm ruined." I did remember that his personal brand appeared to be the old fire and brimstone form of conservatism, so I imagine many in his circle, business partners included, weren't too happy about it. But I'm not here for that so tough titty.

       "And that's why you decided to threaten him that day?"

       His thin lips pressed thinner as her thought back. "No. He'd already made good on his promise and sent our videos and chat logs to my wife."

       "Why?"

       "I don't know. I'd paid all his little ransoms on time. Maybe he just did it to spite me."

       That wasn't Noah's M.O. He'd leaked Kelli's pictures because she couldn't pay but he'd seemed like he'd preferred the potential in future earnings to ruining lives for no reason. "So, walk me through the last Friday you went to meet him."

       "We met at the gas station as usual. He claimed he never sent my wife the file. Liar!"

       "The Circle K off Lennox and Murphy?"

       He looked flummoxed. "Yeah..."

       That was the gas station Ro claimed he met Noah at last Thursday. Lennox Avenue was only two miles from Noah and Ashley's house.

       "Then you pulled the gun?"

       David dropped his head in shame. "I did. He just kept telling the same lies over and over. I got sick of his shit. He shut up good when he saw the end of the barrel." He smiled as he pictured it.

       "But how did he get it from you?"

       "It was stupid." His mouth twisted at one side. "I got distracted by some kid yelling by the pumps. Noah took to opportunity to lunge. We fought, I dropped it, and he picked it up and ran. That was the last time I saw him."

       "What time was it?"

       "About eight pm." His eyes started drooping.

       "Where were you at about one am?"

       "Home."

      "Any witnesses?"

       He shook his head. "No. My wife stayed at a hotel."

       How convenient. "What happened to the guy?"

        "Guy?"

       "The guy in the chats."

       He chuckled. "There was no guy. It was Noah the whole time. He trapped me."

       The things Noah wouldn't do to make money—well, besides getting a real job.

       After a silence where I was lost in thought he looked up at me. "Hey. Can you get me a glass of water and a towel?"

       "I told you, I'm not a waitress."

       "Oh, right." He nodded off right where he sat as sweetly as a newborn kitten if you ignored all the puke and the probably being a murderer. I didn't wake him.

       I thought about going back to the party, but David had exhausted me so despite missing dinner I decided to cut the night short and go home. There was no harm in bowing out before seeing Kelli. She wouldn't talk to me here anyway, so I cut through the ballroom and made my way toward the exit. Just as I hit the early evening air near the front of the building Em Shields caught up to me.

       "Hey," she said. "Get anything interesting."

       I'd forgotten about tonight's reluctant partnership with the press. "I did."

       "Well?" When I didn't say anything else she sighed. "Come on. You promised you'd share."

       I did. And I wouldn't have gotten this far without her help. "I'm eighty percent sure David is my murderer."

       "Wow! Okay, can I take notes?"

       "Uh, yeah."

       She pulled up an app on her phone then nodded when she was ready. I recounted the important bits of the case but left out the parts about Ashley for confidentiality reasons. Besides that, I had a question I needed answered before I wrapped everything up. Em was on the job so she didn't have much time to get into details with me, but I left her with a promise share more later.

       If David's telling the truth, then Noah had his own murder weapon on his possession that night. So, when the killer showed up, they killed him with Noah's stolen gun? Does that mean they didn't go there to kill him?

       Stolen gun or not, it didn't absolve David. After all, he was the only one of my suspects with no alibi. And he pretty much admitted the murder weapon was his. That's information the cops could use.

       But first, I needed to update Ashley on my progress. And pay a little visit to a Circle K.