Tish shrugged again.

“You were sexy then, and you haven’t lost your appeal,” he told her, his eyes roving. “Real beauty matures with age, don’t you think?”

“If you say so.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to repay the compliment,” he said.

“You know you look good, so why do you need to hear it from me?”

Peter laughed. “Try the wine, Tish. It’s excellent.”

Tish did, and it was.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve changed?” she asked.

“We all change. You’re different, I’m different.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I don’t care who you are now or how much money you have. It’s what you did thirty years ago that concerns me.”

Peter nodded. “You think I murdered Laura. You think I took a baseball bat and beat her head in.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, I didn’t do that. How can I convince you I’m telling the truth?”

Tish took another drink of wine. It was fruity and light as helium. “You can’t. I already know you lied back then.”

“Oh?”

“Finn Mathisen saw you,” Tish snapped. “He saw you attack Laura in the field. The black man, Dada, he saved her. When Laura ran off, the bat was still in the field. It was still with you.”

“Finn Mathisen,” Peter murmured, shaking his head. “I haven’t thought about him in years. Him and his sister, Rikke. She was one of those tasty young teachers we all lusted after. Please, Tish. We both know what kind of witness Finn is. Pat Burns is never going to put someone on the stand who probably can’t remember most of the 1980s.”

“I don’t care what kind of witness he would make,” Tish said. “I’m writing a book, not doing a dance for a jury. What matters is that he’s telling the truth.”

“Say he is. That doesn’t mean I killed Laura.”

“Are you admitting you assaulted her?”

“I’m not admitting anything. However, even if I was stupid enough to think that no from a girl really meant yes just because my name was Peter Stanhope, do you think I would kill her over something like that?”

“Over not getting what you want? Yes, I do.”

“Well, you’re right, I don’t take rejection well,” Peter admitted. “You said no to me, and I called you a queer. As I recall, I kissed you and grabbed your tits. I was a pig.”

“Yes, you were.”

“But I didn’t kill you, did I? Because here you are.”

“Maybe you wanted Laura more than me.”

Peter’s smile faltered. His full lips twitched.

“Maybe you were obsessed with her,” Tish continued. “Maybe you were enraged that she didn’t want you.” She met his eyes and whispered, “Are you going to be alone tonight, you whore?”

His fingers clutched the tumbler so tightly that she thought the crystal might shatter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

But he did.

Tish knew that she was right. She swallowed down her loathing and drank more wine.