Oliver was trying to persuade him to talk about his mother, but Nick was too busy ragging on his exes to make the switch. He’d just have to wait Mr. Macho out. Eventually—and probably when Nick was drunk enough—he’d get around to talking about Melinda.

That happened about an hour later, although the man could sure hold his liquor. When he talked, he made eye contact and his hands were steady. “She tried the best she could.” He licked his lips. “It sucked all the way around.”

“How much do you remember?”

“I was fifteen, I remember everything. I liked my dad. He was a good guy. He might not have approved of how I live, but he would have supported my decisions. I’m financially independent and he would have liked that.”

“And your mother?”

“Yes, there’s Mom.” His blinked several times. “Mom fell apart. When her world crashed, she couldn’t handle her own shit, let alone ours.”

“She was absent a lot?”

“A lot—as in all the time. I hated her for it, but now I understand it. Sometimes life turns you into this person that you don’t want to be.”

“She’s doing okay now.”

“Yeah, she married well. Good for her.”

No bitterness there, Oliver thought. “How’d she meet her current husband?”

“Some kind of charity…at least, that’s the cover story.”

“And the real story is…”

“Probably in Vegas over one of the card tables.”

“Yeah, I heard she had a problem.”

“Had?” He smiled. “Had would imply that she no longer deals with the issue.”

“She still gambles?”

“Does a bear still shit in the woods?”

“Where does she get the money?”

“I don’t know, Detective; I don’t follow the vices of my mother. We’re not close. She doesn’t approve of me—my externals. Still, I wish her well.” He downed another shot. “No one’s perfect.”

“I could understand how she gets spending money now…Warren’s a very wealthy man—”

“I’ll drink to that.” Little raised his shot glass.

“Where’d she get the money to indulge her hobby when she was married to your dad?”

“I don’t know how much gambling she did when Dad was alive. He probably kept her in check. Why don’t you ask her about it?”

“I did, and you nailed it. She said it wasn’t a problem when your dad was alive…not much more than an occasional jaunt to Vegas.”

Little appeared thoughtful. “I’m sure his death unleashed all sorts of hidden demons.”

“Your father was well loved by everyone who knew him. Everyone said he was a straight shooter.”

“That was the rumor.” Little shot him a sneer. “What are you getting at?”

“He made a teacher’s salary, Nick. Your mother didn’t work. Your parents owned a lot of toys.”

Little licked his lips but said nothing.