“I’m just wondering if you had any idea where the extra cash may have come from.”

“I was fifteen.”

“I’m betting that nothing got past you.”

“I don’t know anything about my father’s extracurricular activities—or even if there were any extracurricular activities. Could he have been a hit man for the mob?” He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I was thinking much more low level, Nick.”

Again the sneer. “What? Like he was stealing the kids’ lunch money?”

“Drug pushing.”

Nick laughed. “It sure wouldn’t have fit my image of Dad. All I know is that he was always there when I needed him. For a kid, that’s all that counts.”

“What happened to the toys—the boat, the trailer, the camper?”

Little furrowed his brow. “Good question. They just disappeared from my life, same as my father. My mom probably sold everything to make ends meet. It was a good thing that she couldn’t touch our education fund, otherwise I could have never gone to an elite university and become the worthwhile citizen I am today.” He smiled with dark-stained teeth. “Can’t you tell?”

“I can actually,” Oliver told him.

Little took in the words and scratched his cheek. “I thought I’d love college. Living away from home and away from the townspeople with their pitying looks. More than anything, I just wanted to get out.” He nodded to the bartender, who poured another round. “Then I discovered that I liked chaos. It was fun…a real rush. Once I settled into the routine, I participated in every kind of protest known to mankind. Didn’t matter what the cause was as long as I could yell about something. Duke sure as hell taught me how to drink.”

“You went to Duke? That’s pretty impressive.”

Little belted back the shot. “I got in everywhere I applied: Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Dartmouth…all of them. My grades were okay, but I tested high. The key to my success was a murdered father. You write an essay on that and on your mother’s downhill spiral and how you hope for a second chance, blah, blah, blah. It’s the type of shit that those bastions of bleeding hearts eat up. Plus, I wasn’t a scholarship case thanks to my dad’s foresight.”

“The educational funds for your brother and you. Not to belabor the point, but where did that money come from?”

“I don’t know.” He took sip. “I always thought it was my dad who put away the money for the funds. But I’m now thinking that it could have been my grandparents—my mother’s parents.”

“Are you in contact with them?”

“I used to get birthday and Christmas presents. After my father died…I don’t know exactly what happened. There was a falling-out between my mother and them. It was probably over her gambling.”

“What about your father’s parents?”