I would swear Darby twitched, just a little, just enough to catch my eye, but he ramped the smile back up big-time all the same. Darby and I watched each other for a moment or two. I couldn’t tell what was going through his head, but it looked like he was cycling through something. He rubbed his hands on the towel at his waist, slowly, as though giving himself time to collect his thoughts. The smile flashed back, and the dimples, too. Seriously, it was like he turned it off and on at the drop of a hat. He let out a slow whistle. “Someone sure has sold you a bill of goods, haven’t they? I don’t own a boat, never have. Wish I did, though.”

I eyed the house, the neat little window boxes. “Then you were home here the night Tim died?”

“I was out with friends and got home late. I heard about Tim on the news the next morning.”

“You were out with friends in the middle of a thunderstorm?”

The gorgeous eyes bore into mine. ”Most people own an umbrella. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped back to close the door in my face, marking the end of our conversation, but stopped. “How’d you know where I lived?” There it was. I’d been waiting for him to ask the question, and I wondered now what had taken him so long. That didn’t mean I’d answer it, though. Had I made him uneasy, nervous? “I’m not at liberty to say,” I said.

“Who hired you then?”

I shrugged. “Back to the liberty thing.”

His face held no expression. “Cass Raines,” he said, seemingly committing my name to memory. “Word of advice?”

I took a step back. “Go for it.”

“Don’t believe everything some schmuck tells you. Next time, don’t go off half-cocked.”

He was cute and condescending, what a combination. The door began to close. “Uh, last one. Promise.”

Darby glared at me, but held the door ajar. “You didn’t buy a painting the night of the party, but did you go back later to buy one?”

For a moment, I thought I’d get a slammed door in the face, instead of an answer, but then he spoke. “No, never got the chance.”