“He’s an animal rights activist and a suspect in Gene’s murder,” Jack offered.
My sister looked at him like he had grown a second head, then scowled at me. “I can’t believe you two. I thought you were dating.”
“It’s more like a fake relationship trope,” Jack said, and I giggled.
Vera sat sulkily while Jack and I drank iced tea and chatted about reptiles for about fifteen minutes. Harry was happily munching on food pellets when there was a knock at the door.
“I guess this is my cue to go to bed,” Vera said.
“Nope. You’re staying and you’re going to review this evidence with us,” I retorted sharply.
Jack went to get the door, probably to allow Vera and me a few private moments to squabble.
“This is important. You can’t be in denial about this situation. About the murder investigation or Tyler’s sliminess. And they might be linked, so sit your ass down.” I glared at her and she glared back.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms. “Control freak.”
Jack appeared with Diego, who today looked even more like an escapee from a boy band, albeit one who didn’t own an iron. His button-down white-and-blue plaid shirt was rumpled, and his cargo shorts looked like they’d seen better days.
“This is my sister, Vera,” I said.
She waved at him with a sour look on her face.
“You two really don’t look alike.” He took out a laptop from his bag. “Where do you want to watch this?”
I instructed him to sit in between Vera and me. Jack squeezed next to me, so the four of us perched, hip-to-hip, on the sofa. Catsy walked through, stopped when she saw Diego, then sprinted off.
“Is this the footage you got at the funeral today?” I asked.
Diego shook his head as he tapped on the computer.
“What’s it from?”
“I got nothing from that guy you wanted me to sit next to.” He cleared his throat. “You know how that producer said his footage had been stolen? Well...”
His index finger struck the space bar, and a video of Gene popped up. I leaned forward and tapped the space bar.
“Wait. Are you saying that you’re the one who swiped the reality TV footage?”
Jack jumped to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re showing us stolen material? Are you out of your mind?”
“Oh my God, we are all going to prison,” moaned my sister. “Orange is not my color!”
“Let’s not be dramatic,” I said. “Can you elaborate on how you got this?”
Diego ran his tongue over his teeth. “Let’s just say a friend came into possession of all the footage. FETA thought it would show Gene abusing the gators.”
Jack sat back down. “Does it?”
Diego shrugged. “I haven’t watched all of it yet. There’s hundreds of hours. Mostly it’s of him boating, driving in his truck, and telling racist jokes. He didn’t seem to be that great of a gator trapper, because the one scene with an actual gator, it swam away and Gene almost fell in the water.”
“That’s because he sucked as a trapper,” I said. “Anyway. Is this even legal for us to watch?”
Jack scratched his head. “It’s a legal gray area. But—”
“Look,” broke in Diego, “I made a copy of this for you. I figured you’d want to give it to your cop friend because it’s important. But you can’t tell him where you got it.”
“If it’s that important, why don’tyougive it to the cops?” Vera asked. It was a logical question.