Page 69 of Cruel Riches

“You said you’re friends with one of his daughters, right?”

“Yes.” I cocked my head to the side. “What did you want to tell me?”

“I suppose I should start by telling you how I knew him,” he said, twiddling his thumbs on the table. “I used to work at Blackthorne, you see. Lots of the teaching staff there were the ivory tower sort, if you know what I mean, but Peter was always friendly. He’d compliment my work every time he passed me in the gardens. I actually designed the layouts for a few of them, you know.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

He nodded slowly. “We ended up having lunch together a few times, and after that we became friends. I suppose it was more of a work friendship than anything else, because we didn’t meet up on weekends or anything like that, but we still grew quite close over the years. We talked about anything and everything during our lunches.”

“I see.”

He frowned and looked over my shoulder, as if he were looking into the past. “He might’ve been a teacher when I knew him, but he was an investigative journalist at heart. I think that’s what he trained for when he was younger.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Jon was quiet for a moment. Then he rubbed his chin and let out a heavy sigh. “He got involved with some bad stuff,” he said, looking down at the table.

I leaned forward. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes.” Jon lowered his voice. “Look, I’m not saying Peter was a bad guy. He was innocent. I’m sure of it. It was those people he was looking into—they set him up.”

“What people?” I asked. My heart was pounding now.

“I don’t know any names. He never gave me any details. Said it was too dangerous. All I know is that he was working on something major.”

My heart sank. “So that’s all you can tell me?”

“No. I can tell you that I know for a fact that he’s innocent. I have proof.”

I widened my eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“If you’ve had proof all this time, why didn’t you say anything ten years ago? Why have you held onto it for so long? And why would you tell me?” I asked, the words tumbling out of me. “Not that I’m ungrateful or anything. I just don’t understand why you’d respond to an ad in the paper a decade later instead of going to the police.”

“I understand how strange it sounds,” Jon said. His voice was so quiet now that I could barely hear him, and his eyes kept darting around like he was genuinely afraid someone else might be listening in. “But you have to understand mypoint of view. I have a family. I have to keep them safe. Going to the police is basically signing a death warrant for them.”

“Why?”

“The people Peter was involved with were extremely powerful. They controlled the police. Still do, presumably.”

I nodded slowly. “I see. So what’s your proof?”

“Not what. Who.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jon shook his head and sighed again. “Peter was a good man, but he was also flawed.”

“How so?”

“He was having an affair.”

Coldness struck at my core. “No. That’s impossible.”

It couldn’t be true. My parents’ marriage was solid until the day Dad got arrested. There was no way he was sneaking around with someone else.

“Sorry. It’s true.” Jon’s brows lifted in a conciliatory expression. “Like I said, he was a good guy overall, but he had trouble keeping it in his pants.”

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