Betrayal by Christina Dodd Page B

especially since he’s got a record dating back twelve years: breaking and entering, vandalism, suspected murder.”
    “An upstanding citizen, then,” Rafe said sardonically.
    “This is a bad son of a bitch,” DuPey said.
    Brooke stirred in Rafe’s arms. “Let me guess. He stumbled across the job posting on the Internet about someone being willing to pay good money to find and retrieve a bottle of wine.”
    DuPey’s worn bloodhound eyes looked like they were barely open, but his gaze touched every one of them with screened acuity.
    Noah stood apart, in the shadows by the stairs, his face turned away, but his very immobility made Penelope think he was listening intently.
    No one asked about the wine, so they knew something Penelope did not, and she wasn’t about to interject herself into the conversation. Every time she did, someone viewed her with suspicion.
    “That’s about it, Brooke,” DuPey said. “He said there was word out that the matter was being handled, and noone was to interfere. But he’s belligerent and not too bright—”
    “And greedy,” Brooke said.
    DuPey nodded. “As soon as he heard about the money, he was on his way. According to him, he got here, dropped into the Beaver Inn, had a couple of beers, asked some questions, mouthed off, and the next morning headed out to recover the bottle from Mrs. Di Luca.”
    Sarah? Criminals were chasing Sarah? Penelope’s head was spinning.
    DuPey continued. “But before he got very far, three guys, older men, he said, pulled him over and told him to get the hell out of town. Apparently he doesn’t have a strong protective instinct, because he threatened to bring his cousins in to battle for turf.”
    “And?” Noah’s voice was quiet, pitched to reach each person and no farther.
    “They got his tire iron out of his trunk and broke all his fingers. Broke”—DuPey’s mouth twisted in disgust—“hell, they pounded them.”
    Penelope protectively closed her hands into fists.
    “He’ll be lucky to ever use his hands again.” DuPey pulled his hat low on his forehead.
    No one else seemed as distressed as Penelope. It was almost as if they’d all seen worse and were inured to the horror.
    Murder. Brooke said there was murder. More than one? And violence of a most horrific kind…
    “What has this to do with us?” Rafe asked.
    DuPey hitched up his belt. “Actually, trouble is… he said the three men were brothers. They looked alike. And the men he described sound like Di Lucas.”
    Rafe and Noah looked incredulously at DuPey.
    “You really think we’d do that?” Noah asked.
    “No…” DuPey sounded doubtful. “Seems excessive. But I do think you’d do anything to keep your grandmother safe, and if this guy said the right stuff—and he’s got quite a mouth on him—I think things might get heated.”
    Rafe and Noah exchanged glances.
    “When did it happen?” Rafe asked.
    “This morning around eight,” DuPey answered.
    “I was on a conference call with my people on the East Coast.” Rafe looked and sounded sure of himself. “I’ve got witnesses to that.”
    “You employ a computer hacker who could fake the time and your presence,” DuPey retorted.
    “Darren is good,” Rafe acknowledged.
    DuPey finished, “And your people are loyal enough to lie.”
    Rafe didn’t argue. Instead, he inclined his head.
    Penelope swallowed. These guys were spooky.
    DuPey looked at Noah.
    “I was in the shower. Alone. No witnesses.” Noah put his hands on his hips. “And no, I don’t know where Eli was, but I’d guess Chloë does. They’re together… a lot.”
    The guys smirked.
    Brooke rolled her eyes.
    Apparently Eli and Chloë were an item.
    “I’ll check with him. Chloë’s no better as an alibi than Rafe’s people, but maybe Eli was working in the vines or in the barrels. All we need is one valid alibi, and all of you are off the hook.” DuPey touched his hat. “Okay, I gotta run.”
    Noah grinned. “Doughnuts just come out of