Mahoney smiled. “He was a mean dart player. He must have played it for years. It got so folks who watched him started placing dollar bets on whether Larry would lose.” Mahoney chuckled. “Think about that. Not whether he’d win, but whether he’d lose.”
Duke felt himself grinning. “Definitely Larry. I never could beat him in a game.” Which wasn’t strictly true, but it didn’t matter. “And people still played against him?”
A twinkle came to Mahoney’s eye. “You bet. After a beer or two, a challenge can become irresistible.”
Duke laughed outright. He knew the mentality.
“Everybody liked Larry,” Mahoney said. “That’s why this came as such a shock.” Then he looked around and called out, “Merritt? Can you come over here? I want you to meet someone.”
Duke twisted his head and saw a big guy who looked like someone who worked outdoors a lot get up from a table he’d been sharing with two other men. He wended his way over with a loose gait.
Mahoney introduced them. “Merritt, this is Daniel Duke, Larry’s brother. Duke, Merritt was one of them fools who was always trying to beat Larry at darts.”
Merritt laughed and stuck out his hand. “I used to be the best darts player in this bar. Not after Larry came.” He slid onto the stool to Duke’s right. “I’m sorry about your brother, man. He seemed like a straight-up guy and funny, too. And the puns? He raised them to a new art form. Had to be careful or prepared when you were talking to him.” Merritt’s eyes creased with a smile.
“Larry was good people, although his knack for puns sometimes nearly drove me up the wall.”
Merritt nodded. “I get it. You’d be sailing along in a conversation, and he’d make a pun on some word or other. Then everyone would crack up, and the conversation would get derailed. But it was always fun.” Then he shook his head. “I don’t get why anyone would want to kill him.”
“Me, either.” Which wasn’t entirely true, because Larry had gotten knee-deep into investigations that might have made someone angry enough. But none of them were here.
He swallowed some beer, thinking. No, of course none of them were here. Larry had come here to write a book, and while that might be a useful cover, it wouldn’t be about this place. Hell, he couldn’t imagine anything around here that would draw the attention of a reporter of Larry’s stature. Sure, there had to be crime and corruption, like everywhere else in the world, but nothing big enough to reach Larry’s radar.
Merritt spoke again. “So were you big brother or little brother?”
Duke summoned a smile. “Little brother. Larry was two years my senior. Didn’t keep us from being tight, though.”
Merritt paused long enough to raise a finger to Mahoney. “Let me buy you another beer. Then you come join me and my friends. If you want, we can reminisce about your brother. It was a short time, but it was a good time. Would’ve liked it to be longer.”
“Me, too.” Truer words were never spoken. Mahoney brought a fresh draft for Duke and a new bottle for Merritt. Then the two of them wound their way to the table near the back where the two other men were looking curious.
“Larry Duke’s brother,” Merritt said to them, his thumb pointing backward to Duke. “Just call him Duke, he says.”
The two, introduced to him as Dave and Rich, were friendly enough, although maybe a bit cautious. Duke could understand. Maybe they feared an outpouring of grief.
But his grief was private, and he preferred to keep it that way. He’d nurse it in the quiet, dark hours and keep up whatever other appearance he deemed necessary.
Dave and Rich told him what a great guy Larry had been. Duke found himself remembering how he’d suggested to Cat that people might be franker with him because he knew Larry was imperfect. So much for that pipe dream.
Never had not speaking ill of the dead seemed like a heavy weight. How to get past it?
The other two men joined Merritt in talking about Larry’s skill at darts. “He was pretty damn good at pool, too,” Dave said.
“That’s interesting,” Duke said. “He never mentioned that he played.”
“He sure did,” Rich said. “Really good at it, so he must have done it a lot.”
“Larry said it required being able to see vectors and forces, whatever he meant,” Dave announced. “Never saw a guy make a ball curve around another the way he did, and right into the pocket. He should have played competitively.”
But Larry wouldn’t have enjoyed that. He had undoubtedly learned and used it as a tool. Duke nodded but remembered his brother’s passion for investigating and writing. A very real passion. Just like Duke’s passion for the Rangers. Duke wasn’t as interested in getting a star as he was in being able to keep the job, which challenged him to his limit, mentally and physically.
Merritt spoke. “Larry was a reporter, right?”
“Yes,” Duke answered. “One of the best. He did a lot of investigative pieces, some of which were pretty dangerous work.”
The three other men exchanged looks. Then Dave said, “Wooee. He never mentioned that.”
“He didn’t like to brag.” Duke sipped more beer, slowing down his consumption. Getting drunk wasn’t on his menu for the night. “He was fearless, though.”
Duke, who had a dangerous job himself, decided he might not have paid enough attention to Larry’s courage. Not exactly something you thought of when it came to reporters.
But Larry had told him once the story of a female reporter in another state. The story had made Larry grin as he related it, but it wasn’t truly funny.
The woman had uncovered some serious corruption in her sheriff’s department. She’d been digging around for more information when the sheriff himself called her and said, “People disappear in the piney woods out here.”
No, not funny, and the woman’s editor had agreed. Larry’s reaction should have revealed something to Duke, he now thought.
