Juliet shrugged. “I wanted to study psychology, but I had to go into hotel administration. This is as close to a hobby as I have.”

“Did you ever have therapy?”

“No. If I had, someone in my family would’ve bought off the therapist and used my ramblings against me. What about you?”

I shook my head. “It’s been suggested, but no. Is this how you got your superiority complex?”

“I’ve spent more time analyzing my own family than anyone else’s,” Juliet said. “Thraxtons are dysfunctional. I blame my father as the corrupting influence, but my brother is the worst example.”

“Why?”

“Because he wants all of the benefits but plays by none of the rules,” Juliet said. “He does what he wants, and yet my father would bring him in to run the business in a heartbeat if Theo would agree.”

“Isn’t that more of a comment on your father than Theo?” I asked.

At that moment, something behind me clamped onto my neck. I shouted and jumped to my feet.

“Calm down,” Juliet said. “That’s just Bartleby.”

I half-turned and saw a small caramel-colored mammal with rounded ears on top of his head. Its warm amber eyes were regarding me with curiosity.

“He’s a kinkajou. They’re very affectionate,” Juliet said, putting a strawberry in my hand. “Feed him, and he’ll be yours forever.”

“Where do you get these creatures?”

“His owner was going to feed him to a crocodile,” Juliet said. “The creep asked if I wanted to watch, and I said, ‘I would prefer not to.’” I must’ve looked blank, because she added, “You know, like Bartleby the Scrivener.”

“Never heard of him.”

“It’s a short story by Herman Melville. You should read it.”

I held the strawberry above the kinkajou’s head. He reached for it with delicate sharp-clawed paws and took a bite. His eyes stayed on mine. I petted his head, and his fur felt like thick velvet.

“He likes you,” Juliet said. “People are disappointing, but pets never are.”

“He’s pretty cute. Who would feed him to a crocodile?”

“We do business with some shady characters. But you already know that, don’t you?”

“That’s what Ben Northcutt claimed.” I petted the kinkajou, pretending to be casual. “But he’s a liar. He said my sister was a criminal. As if that would happen in a million years.”

It was a little bit of reverse psychology, but it worked wonders. Ask a direct question, and Juliet would bob and weave. Praise my sister, and she had to tear her down.

“Oh, you can’t imagine dear virtuous Caroline getting her hands dirty,” Juliet said. “I’m sure she kept it from you, but Caroline was up to her eyeballs in Thraxton schemes. Your sister loved money.”

“She used it to help people,” I countered. “She gave an awful lot to charity.”