“Welcome to my world,” she said, and for the next half hour they sat on the patio, Chloe coming out to play in the sandbox that Pierce had constructed near a planter overflowing with brilliantly colored azaleas. Nikki checked her phone several times, hoping Pierce had texted, but so far, her husband had been radio silent.
“Expecting someone?” Kyle asked.
“Just hoping to hear from Pierce.”
“Ah. Checking up on him?”
“No. We’re, um, we’re working on something together.” That was stretching the truth a bit, but not a complete lie.
“The Mavis Greenlee murder,” he guessed.
She nodded. “Kind of. How well do you know Archer?”
“Well enough to know he’s a lousy poker player.”
“You play cards with him?” She was surprised, but she shouldn’t be. Other than where Kyle lived and that he wasn’t and had never been married, she didn’t know much about him and certainly not about his social life.
“Once in a while.” He chuckled at her expression. “Don’t be so surprised. It’s kind of a ragtag group of guys that has evolved over the years. You know somebody who knows somebody who wants to play. That sort of thing.”
“Where?”
“Oh, usually at someone’s house, because, you know, it’s not exactly legal.” His eyes twinkled a bit.
“Right.”
“It’s the same group that meets on Friday nights for a couple of beers. Mostly guys from high school, you know, from way back when. Some of ’em belong to a rifle club and go shooting before we meet at the Stag and Boar,” he said. The bar, just off the river, was in the historicdistrict, not far from the newspaper offices. It was also the site of Archer Greenlee’s alibi.
“You meet weekly?”
“Around seven thirty on Fridays, give or take. Sometimes other nights, but Friday is a standard.”
“Like tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“And you were there, with Archer, the night his wife was murdered?”
“What? No.” He shook his head. “I missed that game.”
“Why?” she asked, suddenly more interested.
“I’d spent the day laying pipe for a new irrigation system for a client. A main burst, and it was a real mess. Took forever. By the time I got home and cleaned up, I decided I didn’t want to go out again. Instead, I ordered a pizza, had a couple of beers, and watched the Braves on TV.” He added, “They won. Extra innings.” He couldn’t help smother a smile. “So are you asking if I have an alibi for that night?”
“No.” Well, not really. Kyle had no reason to kill Mavis, and he certainly wasn’t some kind of paid assassin. “But who’s in the group?”
“It’s kind of fluid. Different guys, depending on their schedules. And, as I said, someone might bring a friend along. But I heard Archer was there on the night his wife was killed, even though he hasn’t been there often lately.”
“Since he started seeing Annabelle?”
“I guess.” Kyle shrugged. “He was kind of on a tightwire, balancing a wife and a mistress. Hard to keep ’em both happy,” Kyle pointed out. “So not much time for a night out with the guys.”
“What about the other guys? Who usually shows up?”
“Besides me? There’s Stoney, Otis—”
“Wait. Stoney Tripp? Isn’t his real name Stanley?” She’d already checked, just wanted to confirm.
“Yeah, Stoney’s a nickname from grade school. He’s a science nerd. Geologist. Into rocks when other kids were into football and slingshots and stuff.”