A tumbler on the table held an inch of amber-colored liquid. Was Owen attempting suicide by alcohol poisoning?
“Wasn’t your brother coming over last night?” Matt asked.
“He did.” Owen pointed to the stairwell. “Steve is passed out upstairs.”
He must be the puker.
“Who do you think brought me more whiskey?” Owen asked.
Not helpful.
Owen took a seat at the table and picked up the glass, the motion sure and smooth, as if he were operating on a professional level.
Bree sat on the other side of the table. Matt stood behind her chair.
“You haven’t gone to work?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory, just inquisitive.
“I called out sick.” Owen sipped. “My boss cleared me to take the rest of the week off. First not-dickish thing he’s ever done. I guess your wife has to die before you become a full-fledged human being to a bank.”
Matt wanted to pour the rest of Owen’s whiskey down the drain and shove Owen into a cold shower. He was killing himself, but what would Matt do if the love of his life were gone? He glanced at Bree. The way his thoughts automatically went to her unsettled him. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just one that was strange to him. Did his feelings for Bree run deeper than he’d realized?
So, what if they do?
She was the whole package: smart, honorable, sexy, great sense of humor. Hell, she was literally a fucking hero. Yeah, he was totally fine with getting serious with her. The only sobering realization was that she might not feel the same way. But life was full of risks, right?
“Mr. Thorpe—” Bree began.
“Owen,” he interrupted. “Mr. Thorpe sounds old.”
Bree continued with a nod. “Owen, the medical examiner has issued a cause of death for your wife.”
Owen paused with his glass halfway to his lips.
“Holly was murdered,” Bree said.
He blinked several times in rapid succession, as if he couldn’t comprehend the news. “What?”
“Your wife did not die by suicide,” Bree explained in a patient voice.
Shock paralyzed Owen’s face for a few seconds. “I don’t understand.”
Bree looked as if she was struggling to find the right words. But Owen was too drunk to understand any subtleties. Only the simple, brutal truth would penetrate his alcohol haze.
“Someone choked your wife to death,” Matt said.
His statement was the virtual slap across the face that Owen needed. He startled. One hand went to his neck, and his face turned ashen. A range of emotions passed over his features, from grief to horror to confusion. He set his drink on the table. “Who would do that?”
“We were hoping you might have some information that will help us find whoever did this to her.” Bree leaned forward. “Do you know anyone who was angry with your wife?”
“Maybe her sister.” Owen jerked a shoulder. “They had a fight Thursday night. But I can’t see Shannon killing Holly. They argue, but they’re sisters.”
“Holly told you about their fight?” Bree took out her pad and jotted down a note.
“Yeah.” With a sigh, Owen picked up his whiskey and sipped it. “She came home crying.”
Bree shifted her weight back. Her nose wrinkled, as if she was trying to ignore the smell. “Do you know what they fought about?”
“Money.” Owen finished his drink. “Shannon wants to bleed us dry. She has tons of money, with her fancy house and nice car. But she was leaning on Holly for money for their mom’s bills.”
“According to Shannon, she’s just better at saving,” Bree said.
“Shannon’s a bitch.” Owen rolled his eyes. “It’s easier to save more money when you make more money.”
“You took a cruise a few months ago,” Matt pointed out.
“So? We paid for that trip a long time ago, before Holly’s mom got sick. We probably couldn’t really afford it, but it was our first vacation since our honeymoon five years ago.” He shoved his chair back and stood. “Shannon is right. Holly wasn’t the best at saving. Neither am I. But weren’t we entitled to some pleasure in life?” He carried his glass to the counter and refilled it. “I’m glad we took that trip.” Tears shone in his eyes when he spun around. “At least I’ll have the memories.”
“What about the trip to Vegas?” Matt asked.
“Did Shannon tell you about that?” Owen gritted his teeth and walked back to his chair. “That was a business trip. A conference for community bankers. The bank paid for our hotel. We just had to spring for Holly’s airfare. She flew on one of the bargain airlines. Cost us less than a hundred