Page 26 of A Quick Buck


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“The tie was red. Dumb and dumber out there picked it out for me.”

“So?”

“I didn’t wanna wear it.” Noah spotted a stray piece of glass by the wall and walked over to herd it back into the rest of the pile.

“Why not?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Answer the question,” Alistair said, his tone deepening in a way that made Noah’s spent dick flex.

“I don’t know how to tie a goddamn tie, okay?” Noah finally looked up and glared at Alistair. He hated to admit it, but he really couldn’t imagine being any more embarrassed right now.

Alistair seemed surprised. “Ah, well, that is easy enough to remedy.”

“You’re gonna teach me?” Noah scoffed.

“I plan on teaching youmanythings.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Noah tried to ignore the innuendo and stared off at the floor. He noticed more broken glass and pushed the broom over to retrieve it. He kept seeing more pieces, and he was getting frustrated that it never seemed to end.

“Not swept much, have you?”

“You always ask this many questions?”

“You’re welcome to ask me some if you’d like.” Alistair smiled. “I can’t promise I will answer them.”

“Fine. Yeah. I’ve never swept. Big surprise.” Noah gestured to the floor. “Am I done now?”

“Did you bring a dustpan?”

Noah wanted to scream.

“It’s fine.” Alistair pointed to the chair where a new glass was waiting for Noah. “Sit.”

“What about the rest of that broken shit?”

“I’ll ask Jamie to finish up. Now sit.”

“Okay.” Noah noticed the soiled napkin was gone, and he took a gulp of wine. “So. You’re saying my uncle killed Carbone sometime Tuesday night, but he’d already left for Strassen Springs that morning?”

Alistair laughed. “You love to jump right on it, don’t you?”

“Always do,” Noah countered. “What’s wrong? Can’t keep up?”

“Oh, it’s not that. I’d just heard the very same thing from Mr. Medina earlier today.”

Noah grimaced.

“My apologies.” Alistair chuckled softly. “I suppose that was in poor taste, wasn’t it?”

“You gonna answer the question?” Noah asked, shifting in his chair. His damn ass was tender as hell, and it was hard to get comfortable.

“Yes. Your uncle may have left this house sometime Tuesday morning, but he didn’t arrive in Strassen Springs until the next day, as indicated by his credit card activity.”

“Somebody coulda faked that. They coulda taken his card or something.”

“Oh, and I suppose they planted his fingerprints on the gun?”