“It’s Owen,” Griff said.
“I didn’t know you invited him,” she said.
“I didn’t.”
“I’m going to open the wine,” Luna said, entering the house.
As Griff waited for Owen on the front porch, Luna searched the kitchen, with Sam the dog on her heels. She rummaged through several cutlery drawers until she found the wine opener. Once Luna wrestled off the cork, she pulled three wineglasses from the cabinet. Owen and Griff joined her as she emptied the bottle of wine into thirds.
“I was calling you,” Owen said.
“I was driving,” Luna said.
She delivered two swelling glasses of wine to Griff and Owen. She raised her own goblet and said, “Cheers.”
“Didn’t know you’d be here,” Owen said.
“Same,” Luna said.
Owen didn’t like how Luna was avoiding eye contact. Luna considered the odds that Owen had shown up at Griff’s place because he saw her location on the app. She made a mental note to change the settings. No one needed to know where she, or her phone, was all the time.
“I’m sorry,” Owen said. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No. Glad to have you,” Griff said, trying to cover the disappointment in his tone.
Over a dinner of pasta puttanesca, Owen watched Luna pick sardines from her plate and casually toss them onto Griff’s dish. Griff, with the same ease of familiarity, plucked olives from his dish and stacked them in a pile on Luna’s salad plate. It was like watching them kiss, Owen thought.
Owen knew they didn’t want him there. But he really needed to tell Luna what happened that day. He kept waiting for her to thaw out, remember who they were to each other. When Griff disappeared into the kitchen to find more wine, Owen finally caught Luna’s eye.
“We need to talk. I’m freaking out,” Owen whispered.
“About what?” Luna said.
Griff returned to the table with a freshly opened bottle of red and refilled the trio’s wineglasses. Owen didn’t want to have the conversation in front of Griff, but Luna wasn’t making it easy on him.
“I went back to the station,” Owen said. “The cops showed me this picture.”
“You talked to the cops without a lawyer. Again?” Griff said.
“Not now,” Owen said to Griff. Then, back to Luna: “They showed me a photo.”
“What photo?” Luna said.
“It would make more sense if I could show it to you. They wouldn’t let me take it.”
“You really need to get a lawyer,” Griff said.
“I heard you already,” Owen snapped. “Sorry. It’s complicated. Listen, this picture jogged a memory of me and Irene.”
“What photo?”
Owen needed to present every detail about that night, the memories the photo sparked, but with Griff there, he rushed through the details.
“I met Irene before. She said her name was Phoebe.”
“What are you talking about?” Luna said.
“It’s really weird and hard to explain in one sentence or two,” Owen said, stumbling over the series of events. “When I was in England, I met Irene. I didn’t remember. She looked completely different. But I met her one night and she told me about Leo. He slept with her when she took a class with him in college. Then a few years later he married Chantal.”
“You met Irene when you were in London,” Luna said, trying to remember Owen’s most recent trans-Atlantic trips. There hadn’t been many. “When were you in London?”
“Fourteen years ago,” Owen said. “You know, after Scarlet. I met Irene that year. She used a fake name.”
“Why?” Griff said.
“I don’t know,” Owen said. Impatient, exasperated, he jumped to the next salient detail. “Irene told me things about Leo that night. It explains why they were so weird. Why she hated him so much. I think he was blackmailing her. And maybe she stopped paying him and he—”
“You think Leo might have killed Irene?” Luna said.
“Maybe,” Owen said.
“Tonight he does,” Griff said. “Tomorrow is a different story.”
Owen turned to Griff, eyes narrowed. “Why are you being such a dick?” Owen said.
“Sorry. I don’t want to start anything,” Griff said.
“I can’t believe you’re still pissed about that,” said Owen.
Luna’s eyes toggled between the brothers.
“Still,” Griff said. “You accused our mother of murder.”
“I thought maybe she did it. And I told you that in confidence,” Owen said.
Luna saw a vein pulsing on Griff’s forehead. He got to his feet. So did Owen.
“You know, Owen, it’s deeply concerning how lightly you take the killing of another human.”
Owen grabbed his coat and checked the pockets for his keys. “I’m going,” Owen said.
Luna was drunk enough by then that she wasn’t sure she was hearing things correctly. “What is going on with you two?” she said.
“He thinks I killed Scarlet,” Owen said. “Right, Griff?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Luna said, turning her attention to Griff.
Griff exhaled and stared at his feet.
“Go on. Tell her what you really think,” Owen said.
Griff leveled his gaze on Owen. “I think maybe you killed both of them.”
Owen walked out as soon as Griff accused him of more than one murder. Another time, another year, Luna might have chased after Owen. Not that night. For one thing, she was too destabilized by the trajectory of the conversation to manage an exit. Then, when Griff suggested Owen might be a killer, she wanted to know how he came to that conclusion. Griff began cleaning up, bussing plates as if the goal was to split them in two. Luna sat in the living room, drinking more wine, trying to decide which questions to ask and in what order.
Her wine depleted, she entered the kitchen.
“You were angry,” Luna said. “You don’t think that.”
“Yes,” Griff said. No hesitation. “I think it’s very possible.”
Luna wasn’t buying it. Griff rinsed and dried his hands and turned to Luna. He could tell he was losing her. After all her years of friendship with Owen, all that loyalty, Griff didn’t expect to get through to her. At least not right away.