Winston froze for just a second and Pescoli asked, “What do you mean?”
Cee-Cee went on when it was clear Winston wasn’t going to respond, “Kathryn and her brother never got along. Vince never amounted to much. He’s just one of those guys always looking for the big score. Bright enough, but never held a job for more than a year. Winston’s dad loaned him some money and it pissed Kathryn off because he never paid it back.”
“How much money?” Pescoli asked.
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Pescoli inwardly whistled while Winston muttered, “Damn it, Cee-Cee.”
“Why would Georges loan his brother-in-law money if he was such a bad risk?” Alvarez asked.
“They were friends. Army buddies,” Cee-Cee responded, awkwardly pushing herself to her feet and walking to a shelf where she pulled down a huge box.
“Wait!” Winston sprang to his feet, but Cee-Cee was already digging around inside the box. She pulled out a long package encased in bubble wrap.
“He gave this to Winston years ago, right, honey?” she asked Winston, exposing a long, military sword.
“When I graduated from high school,” Winston acknowledged, his gaze shooting darts at his wife. “He and my dad both had one.”
Pescoli looked at the sword, noticing the detail on the pommel, guard, and grip. There was some fine etching in the guard and the weapon seemed familiar.
Cee-Cee settled back into the rocker. “Now I have to keep it away from Lily.”
“I’m going to mount it on the wall in the new house,” he snapped. “Up high, above the foyer. It’ll be fine.”
Alvarez asked, “Where’s Vincent now?”
“He has a place up on Spruce Creek, but I’m not sure he’s there. We haven’t heard from him in a couple years,” Winston said.
“He’s never even met Lily,” Cee-Cee said with a sniff.
“Does he know Sheriff Grayson?” Alvarez asked.
Winston stared at his wife. “You and I both know Vincent isn’t capable of killing anyone!”
“We’re just trying to get a clear picture here and find out who killed your mother,” Pescoli reminded him.
He opened his mouth, shut it, then on the brink of breaking down suddenly sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I don’t know who Vincent knows. Maybe he knew Grayson.”
“Do you have Vincent’s phone number?” Alvarez asked.
“A cell number that’s maybe still good. We haven’t heard from him since a card last Christmas . . . huh . . .” His skin paled. “He didn’t send one this year.” He dug into his pocket and retrieved his own cell phone, scrolled through the list, then gave Alvarez and Pescoli the number.
“It can’t be Vincent.”
“Why do you say that?” Alvarez asked.
He shook his head. Reaction seemed to be settling in and the sword in his hands began to wobble.
“Win!” Cee-Cee admonished and he snapped out of it, reaching for the bubble wrap to cover the blade once again.
“I was afraid of this, you know,” he said.
“What?” Pescoli asked.
“That some nutcase she sentenced would take it out on her. That’s what happened. It wasn’t Vincent or any of her family or friends. It was somebody she put away.”
“We’re looking at everyone,” Alvarez said.