Free Gilt by JL Wilson

promised to forfeit life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness if I blab."
    Tinsley started to snap a reply but Dan interrupted. "Denton got into financial trouble a few years ago. He went to a friend of his for help. That friend sent him to the Wickeds."
    "Some friend." I scooted back in my chair and curled up on the cushion, perhaps subconsciously withdrawing from this conversation as well.
    "Denton was raised in a bad neighborhood," Dan continued, ignoring my mutter. "A few of his friends were in the gang but he didn't know it. We think," here he glanced at Tinsley, who nodded almost imperceptibly, "we think Denton managed to pay back the loan but his family was threatened. We think he told your husband and Bennington about it."
    I straightened. "When did this happen?"
    "About three or four years ago."
    I thought back, trying to recreate a time so far in the past. "Let's see. Roberta, Paul's wife, died about that time. It was around the same time that John's nephew died."
    Tinsley flinched and his face paled. I belatedly remembered the circumstances of that death. John's nephew, Mark, had died at this man's hands. Oh, shit, way to insert my foot into my mouth. "I'm sorry," I blurted. "I didn't mean--"
    His lips thinned. "You don't need to be sorry. It happened."
    "Have you talked to Amy since then? Does she know you're involved in this investigation?"
    "This has nothing to do with her," he said in a low, level voice.
    "You know, it seems to me that everybody in this case has revenge on the mind. Are you avenging Amy's brother?" I didn't wait for an answer, but turned my attention to Dan, who tilted his head to regard me, his dark brown eyes faintly accusing. "And I suppose you'd like revenge for your wife."
    "What about you?" Dan asked.
    I wasn't sure so I tugged the conversation back to the topic at hand. "Let's see. Four years ago. I know Paul was under a lot of stress. His wife had cancer. His daughter was a teenager and I think Paul was studying for the captain's exam. John helped him with that. Paul would come over here and they went through the textbooks together. John was good at that kind of stuff."
    "What kind of stuff?" Dan asked.
    I glanced at him but he was focused on my adoring cat. Dan's lashes were dark on his cheeks, hiding his expressive brown eyes. "John was good at being a friend. I sometimes complained about it. He would drop everything to help somebody."
    "That's not a bad quality."
    I didn't argue. It would sound petty to complain about John's good points now.
    "Did your husband loan Denton any money?" Tinsley asked.
    I seized on the question eagerly, hopeful that I could put to rest any notion that John had benefited from the fire. "Not that I knew of. John and I had a joint bank account but we also had separate accounts. It's possible he loaned money from his private account, but when he died and I settled his estate, I didn't find anything that indicated he did."
    "Did your aunt loan Denton any money?"
    "My aunt?" I'm sure they heard the confusion in my voice. "Aunt Portia doesn't even know Paul Denton. Oh, she's probably met him. He and John were friends for years and maybe he went home with John for a visit back when they were in college together. But Aunt Portia doesn't know him well enough to loan him money." I frowned thoughtfully. "Of course, if John asked her to loan him money, she might have."
    "Your husband had that much influence with your aunt?" Dan asked.
    "She was John's aunt, too," I said.
    "What?" Both Tinsley and Dan spoke simultaneously.
    "That's how John and I met. We were at party for Uncle Leland for his birthday, out at the farm. Leland is--was--Portia's husband. My father was Portia's brother and John's mother was Leland's sister. John and Amy are related to Portia through Uncle Leland." I frowned at Tinsley. "Didn't Amy ever mention that? When you two came for a visit, it was for Uncle Leland's funeral. Surely you remember?"
    To my surprise, Tinsley appeared flustered, his