Page 126 of Without a Clue

“Well?” I say at last.

“Well, what?” he says back.

“Well, aren’t you concerned that that makes you look extremely guilty in all of this?”

“Why should it? I’m not guilty.”

“But you have a strong motivation. Money is a strong motivation.”

“For the poor, the needy, and the perpetually discontent, yes. But I am none of those.”

“Some people find they never have enough.”

“Hence the term perpetually discontent. But I have learned to be content in all situations. Or at least in all situations I’ve come by in my time. I have everything I’ve ever needed.”

I rub my eyes. “So you’ve never been jealous of Hugh?”

Gordon raises one bushy brow. “Why be jealous of someone else? What’s the point? What’s to gain? It’s a gigantic waste of time.”

“And you are financially in good straits?” I look at his game. “You don’t . . . have . . . a gambling addiction or anything?”

That seems fitting.

We are here after all.

He chuckles. “We have a casino on board, Pip. Do you think I’d be up here playing with quarters if I wanted that kind of trouble?”

Oh.

Right.

I have done what research I could on Gordon. As far as I know, he has no unique vices. Nothing, really. He’s clean as a whistle.

I sigh. “Forgive me, Gordon, but I just can’t get past this. Why don’t you care? Hugh was among your best friends—”

“The best of the best.”

“And yet here you are—not caring. At all.”

“Who says that?” A flicker of a smile, one of those old, wise smiles, lifts his beard. “Who says there is only one way to grieve?”

That’s all there is to it.

He didn’t do it.

I take a breath.

“Gordon . . . what do you think of Nash?”

“Nash?” he says.

His brows rise as his gaze shifts to Nash and then back to me. I can see he understands the depth of the question. How I’m asking for his opinion, and his opinion only. There’s weight to his words, and whatever he says next, well . . . it matters.

He purses his lips.

Pats my hand.

“I believe this is your interview, not mine.”