“How did the lawyer react to his client’s murder?” Dent asked.
Moody snorted a mirthless laugh. “He moved over to the DA’s office. At Rupe’s urging. He’s still there, far as I know.”
Bellamy said, “Allen died for nothing.”
“Far as I know.”
Later, when he thought back on it, Dent figured it was Moody’s smirk that had set him off. He saw it, and the next thing he knew, he had closed the distance between the bed and Moody’s chair, and he was bearing down on the former detective.
“You and Rupe made quite a team. He was the brains and you were his bitch boy. It was working so well, why’d you quit?”
“Back off.”
“Not till I hear from you what I want to hear. You’ve admitted you knew Strickland was innocent from the get-go. How did you know?”
“I told you. He said that Susan had laughed at him. Guys don’t—”
“Give me a break, Moody. Guys don’t admit it and then whine about it. If she turned him down, he would have been steamed. He would have been cursing her, calling her names. Which would have been implicating, not exonerating. So sell that rationale somewhere else, because to me it smells like bullshit.”
“His brother—”
“Who you said could have been lying. You had to have had something else that cleared Allen. What was it, Moody?”
The former detective looked at Bellamy where she still sat on the end of the bed. When his bleary gaze came back to Dent he said, “When I’m ready.”
“When you’re ready? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, I’ve said all I’m gonna say to you.”
“You lousy sot. She needs to know what you know,” Dent shouted. “Like fucking now.”
“Watch yourself, boy.” Moody struggled to stand up, but when he stood face-to-face with Dent, Dent didn’t back down, not even when Moody picked up his pistol from off the TV tray.
“What?” Dent scoffed. “You’re going to shoot me?”
“Just keep pushing me and see.”
“I don’t think so. You’re too chicken-livered.” Dent leaned closer until the barrel of the pistol was touching his shirt.
Bellamy gave a strangled cry.
“It’s all right,” Dent said. Holding Moody’s hostile stare, he said, “He’s not going to pull the trigger.”
“Don’t be so goddamn sure.”
“The only thing I’m sure about is what a coward you are. You didn’t have the guts to stand up to Rupe Collier, and you don’t have the guts to blow your own brains out now.”
“Dent!”
Bellamy sounded anguished and frightened, but neither he nor Moody heeded her.
Moody’s face was congested with anger. He was breathing hard. Dent felt the barrel of the pistol wavering as though the hand holding it was trembling.
“At least only one man died on account of me,” he snarled. “I gotta live with that. You gotta live with nearly killing a whole airplane full of people.”
Dent hit him. Hard. Moody took the blow on the chin and it sent him reeling backward, arms windmilling, until he broke his fall against the kitchen bar. He sank to the floor and landed in a heap.
Dent walked over to him, took a handful of his hair, and forced his head up. Moody looked at him through glazed and bloodshot eyes. “Don’t measure me by your yardstick, you miserable turd.” He bent down close. “You would’ve framed me for murder if you could’ve. You’ve had almost twenty years to set the record straight about your dirty dealings with Rupe Collier. You haven’t. Instead, you’ve been skulking in this hellhole, trying to drown your guilt in whiskey. Bellamy and I gave you a chance to atone, and you still can’t own up to what you did. You’re a god-damn coward.”