“Think about it,” Greg said. “He’s opening a bar with his uncle. Bars are perfect for money laundering. You bring in cash, run it through the till, claim it as revenue. The IRS gets their cut, and suddenly dirty money is clean.”
I blinked. “You think Daniel and Kenny are working with the mob.”
“I think they could be,” Greg said seriously. “Especially if Kenny’s hurting for money. You said he invested his entire inheritance in this bar. What if it wasn’t enough? What if he needed more capital and turned to less legitimate sources?”
First, it couldn’t have been his entire inheritance. Sure, Rachel had said that, but David had left him a not inconsiderable sum. Even Kenny wasn’t likely to have blown through it in just a few months.
“And you don’t know what connections Daniel might have,” Greg continued. “He’s only been here in Nashville a few months, right? You have no idea what he might have been up to before that.”
He’d been David’s brother, and had been in touch whenever he ran into trouble, so I had some idea. But Greg was right that I had no idea whether Daniel could have been involved with the mob out in the Sunshine state.
“For all we know,” I said slowly, as ideas crowded one another in my head, “it was Nick who put Kenny in touch with the mob. If he knew Jacquie from when David was sleeping with her, he might have known Nick, as well.”
“He might have known them longer than that,” Greg said. “He might have been the one who introduced them. Kenny, I mean. Introduced his father to Jacquie.”
That stopped me cold. “Kenny? Introduced Jacquie to David?”
“You never know,” Greg said. “If you’re willing to consider that Kenny knew both Jacquie and Nick from before, any number of things might be true. Kenny and Nick were about the same age, right? And Kenny got in some trouble as a teen and young man? So did Nick, from everything we’ve heard. They may have been friends for a decade.”
They may have been. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. Just because Kenny and Nick were from totally different backgrounds, didn’t mean they couldn’t have crossed paths in the past, especially given their similarities.
“That’s...” I trailed off. Was it crazy? Or was it possible?
“I’m not saying it’s true,” Greg said. “I’m just saying it’s worth considering. Especially now that Nick’s dead and Jacquie’s already moved on to Kenny. Or vice versa.”
He took another sip of his wine. I did the same, and let it sit on my tongue for a moment or two before I swallowed.
“This is crazy,” I said finally. “I’m sitting here wondering whether my stepson is involved with the mob. And whether he murdered my dead husband’s mistress, who is also my current client.”
“Welcome to my life,” Greg said with a slight smile. “Just remember, Gina, there’s no proof of any of this. We’ve spun some interesting theories, but there’s no way to know whether any of them is true.”
“One of them must be true. Nick’s dead. And he didn’t kill himself.”
“Doesn’t mean any of our theories is the right one.” His smile widened. “Sometimes truth really is stranger than anything I could come up with.”
He had a point there. Nonetheless, I earmarked the theory to come back to when I had time to mull it over in peace and quiet.
We ate when our food arrived, and the conversation drifted to safer topics. Greg told me about his mother’s bridge club, and about the ranch house in Wyoming where he wrote during the winter months, and a bit more about the research trip to Scotland that he was planning for the spring. I told him about Edwina’s latest antics and avoided saying too specifically whether I’d travel with him or not. He hinted, but didn’t come right out and ask, so I felt justified in not coming right out and answering.
He noticed, though, because, as we were finishing dessert, Greg leaned forward.
“You know, Gina,” he said.
Uh-oh, I thought. Here it comes.
“I enjoy your company very much.”
“That’s kind of you,” I said formally. “I enjoy yours, as well.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. And I understand that it hasn’t been very long since your ex-husband died?—”
Still my husband at the time of his death although I didn’t say so. “Three months, give or take.”
He nodded. “I understand that you need time. The last thing I want to do is scare you off.”
“I’m not scared,” I said.
“Good. Then may I take you out again tomorrow?”
