Chapter 33

I didn’t laugh, serious and on the job. “Did you have any problems with Evan?”

“Everyone had a problem with that little fucker.”

“What kind of problem did you have?”

“He was the baby and was spoiled. My father loved him more than he loved me and my other brothers.”

“Benny played favorites?” I asked.

“All the time.”

“That gave you a reason to kill Evan.”

He slammed a fist down on the table and made the gin bottle bounce. The guy looked up at me and growled, “I didn’t murder my own brother. And I didn’t hate him because my father played favorites. If I was going to kill him, it would have been over his drug habit.”

“Tell me about that,” I said, taking mental notes.

He looked up at me, blinked a few times because he was probably nervous, and admitted, “Evan sometimes thieved my drugs right out from under my nose. I didn’t kill him, though. I simply bought more drugs, which he also used.”