Dwight replayed the afternoon in his mind over and over. Then it hit him. Duncan. Pushing him to repay the money. That would be just the kind of move an enforcer would make to get his attention. Sucker punch someone he was related to or fond of to let him know they were serious. Dwight swallowed the last of his drink and signaled across the room to the waitress for another. Dwight was clenching his jaws so hard they hurt. There was no need for that kind of thing. He told them he would pay the money back.

Dwight watched as the band set up on the small stage, but he wasn’t really paying attention. They’d punched his wife, well, ex-wife. That was pretty low. He drummed his fingers on the table. Would they go after Dawn, too? He ran his hand through his hair. What could he do about it? Nothing, really, but pay the money back. Sooner rather than later. The waitress brought his drink. He gave her two dollars for a tip. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She moved on to the next table.

He watched as Stephanie came back to the lounge. She went to sit with some other people. She hadn’t been gone long enough to go see Jean. Where did she go? He considered her again as the puncher, then shook his head. No. It couldn’t have been her. Why would she punch Jean? She’d invited Jean to go along to the shop. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t like Jean, would she? Maybe she was involved in the murder. That would give her a reason to hit Jean. Jean nosing around, right?

But that didn’t make any sense. Why would Stephanie kill Justin? Then punch Jean. Dwight shook his head. He was going overboard. The most likely one to hurt Jean was Duncan, on Jimmy’s orders. He sipped his Crown Royal. Yeah. That had to be it. So it was more important now than ever to find ten thousand dollars.

Fletcher and Damon drifted back into the lounge and sat down with him. Gail came in a few minutes later. “She’s doing all right,” Fletcher said. “In some pain but okay.”

Dwight nodded. “She’s pretty tough. You know those murders she’s solved. Every one of the people she finally found has tried to kill her. She never gives up.”

Fletcher and Damon exchanged glances while Gail went pale. Dwight wondered what that was about when the music started up. After that they couldn’t talk. He got up and went to stand at the bar. Soren came and sat with Fletcher and Gail while Damon went to sit with Brandon. That was a strange pair. How well did those two guys know each other, anyway? Brandon wouldn’t have had any more contact with Damon than he had while they were in Afghanistan. Why so chummy now.

He noticed Fletcher, Gail and Soren had their heads together over the small table. They’d have to, he thought, in order to hear each other. But he did see that Gail and Fletcher were acting like a couple. They’d moved their seats together and were playing kissy face. Dwight shook his head. Wasn’t Fletcher married? None of my business, he thought.

He stayed for two of the band’s sets. Eighty’s music was the right call for this crowd. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it. Then he decided to give Jean a call to see if he could come up. She was still up. So he finished his drink and left, the music fading away as he crossed the lobby to the elevators.

They’d talked about old times and old friends and who could have killed Justin. At eleven he left so she could rest. He made her lock the door while he stood outside. He wanted to make sure she was safe. As he went to the elevator, one thing she said stuck with him. “Maybe they’re all in on it,” she’d said. He thought about that as he rode back down to the lounge. Could they all have been in on Justin’s murder? That would mean they all talk to each other all the time, right? Why would they do that?

Norm, Damon and Soren were all out of the military. Were they all such good friends that they’d kept in touch? Justin was out, too. It kind of made sense for Gail to keep in touch since they were in the same field. She’d maybe, be looking for a job when she got out. But the rest? He shook his head as the elevator doors opened and he stepped out into the lobby. The rest of them keeping in touch didn’t make sense, what with different careers and families.

Dwight stopped in the door of the lounge. Gail, Ian, Fletcher, Soren, Damon and Brandon had shoved a couple of tables together to sit together. They looked like regular people, not killers, but these are the people Jean suspected. Gail saw him in the door and waved him over as the band announced they were taking a break.

They asked about Jean, of course. He told them she was resting. They all stayed, talking about plans for tomorrow, the last day of the reunion, and the final dinner. Everyone was going to that. The party broke up at one when the band quit. Dwight stayed behind and sat at the bar, thinking. Should he have mentioned the bookie to Jean? Tell her his fear that it was his fault that she’d been kidney punched. He sipped his drink. What, he thought. Pile on the misery when she’s already in pain and then ask for the ten grand to pay off the person who’d had her hit? No. That would be a tacky move at best.

There was a guy at the other end of the bar, playing video slots at the console in the bar. A woman was doing the same, halfway down, cigarette in one hand as the other punched buttons. A tall glass of dark liquid sat beside the cigarette hand. Rum and coke, maybe? He wished casinos would go non-smoking. The smoke made his throat hurt.

He brought his attention back to his trouble. Should he ask Jim for the money? He was doing well, his wife, Lisa, worked at a good job too. They seemed financially set. But he remembered how tough it was when Jim was little. Kids cost a lot of money, and Jim had two. No, better not ask his son. Besides, if Jim did give him the money, Jean would have a fit. Rightfully so, he thought as he finished his drink.

Dwight got up and went to his room. Not as drunk as usual, he thought as he unlocked his door. That’s something, anyway.