He knew the kosher wines by sight, and that was not one of them.

He also knew a few of the expensive vintages, and that looked to be one of them.

Zechariah was not entirely sold that murdering did not run in the family, and so he held up a hand to gesture that he would pass on it.

“It must be devastating to be in line to inherit,” he teased. “Is golfing not your retirement plan any more?”

Darius looked surprised. "Am I in line to inherit?" He tilted his head and his eyes widened. "I am! " He glanced to the side even though he certainly couldn't see the family from there. "Want to leave this place for a while and talk in my room? So no one can over hear? I think I could use some.. assistance.." He didn't like Zech, but he didn't hate him. And he was awkward and nervous around strangers. This was the only lawyer he knew, if he could trust him.

Zechariah stared at him as he watched it dawn on Darius for the first time. This man was going to get milked for everything.

Preferably by Zechariah.

And then Darius Carrington, only man still openly clinging to the ghost of Christopher and brother to a dead murderer in the casket in the next room … asked Zechariah to his bedroom, in a home teeming with overly curious guests. His brows hiked.

“I am certain there is somewhere better to talk, my friend,” he deadpanned.

Besides. Darius was a self-professed ass man.

Darius looked away and shrugged as he started to walk anyway. "It's where I always am if I'm not outside. You want to wander? Otherwise it would be weirder to meet up elsewhere. Don't think we could hang out at pearl's. Wait she is married now I think?" Did he get an invitation? He didn't think so. He shrugged and looked back to see if he was coming. "I promise not to touch you. We're strangers right?" He didn't need to hit him.

Was she? He was fairly certain he would have recalled ignoring that invitation. It must have been small or abroad.

He had fallen behind some, but had begun to try and close the distance once more.

“Let me begin assisting you,” Zechariah said with a wary glance over his shoulder, “by reminding you the press can make mountains out of molehills. Surely there is a parlor? Wine cellar?”

He regretted the wine cellar suggestion as soon as he made it. How did that Edgar Allen Poe story go again?

Darius frowned and gestured to him. "I guess that's something I do need to know. Normally no one bothers. " He shrugged and headed back. "Can I at least go to my room to get a book? I want to take notes. I can only remember so much even at the best of times when I'm drunk. " As he headed to the house he tilted his head back. "Maybe the parlor is fine."

He quirked a brow at that. How many bribes went into stifling articles about Darius?

What an appealing thought.

“Certainly.”

Zechariah followed him to, but not into the bedroom. He rested against the wall with arms crossed in waiting.

Darius shrugged into his room which clearly had hints of bohemian taste. He had things scattered about in the corners or draped over the furniture as if it was a style. He passed a couple of discarded musical instruments in the corner that perhaps he'd once played or at least gave a minimal effort to learn.

Beside the door glaring up at Zech was a taxidermied fox standing upright and wearing a tiny uniform and gripping a butter knife like a sword. On his shoulder was a hedgehog wearing an angel outfit appearing to whisper in its ear.

"Here it is!" He called from beside the bed, lifting a leather bound book. As he walked back he passed a rather large portrait of Sonia hung by a window. It had the woman sitting on the love seat not five feet from where the painting was hung. She was looking out while only covered in a pink fabric, sheer enough it left little to the imagination, though her hair and her position on the seat kept it from being unexcusably lewd.

He stepped out and closed the door. "To the parlor?"

Darius’ back was to him. He figured a guy like Darius just lived in an overcrowded hovel in between the maids’ sweeps.

Curiosity still got the better of him. Zechariah craned his neck to catch a covert peep in … only to come nose-to-nose with a dead fox. Zechariah blinked slowly, stepped back, then turned around to get a better look. Ah. There was another stuffed dead thing on top of a stuffed dead thing, and with a little halo to boot.

His eyes slid up to Darius when he announced his find, though it riveted to the life-size portrait of some nude model he wondered about the current dead-or-alive status of.

Sadly for him, he would not realize that this was the same woman blackmailing him later on.

Was this Carrington capable of murder, too? The fox’s glassy eyes stared back at them.

Probably.

“To the parlor,” he answered easily.

After all, if he routed out all the homicidal clients? He would hardly be able to afford that cabin.

Darius nodded and followed him to the parlor. He immediately felt uncomfortable as it normally had been occupied by someone else in the family. He sat in an uncomfortable but well made chair and took another swig from the wine bottle. "So.." he had picked a chair without considering the others in the room. He didn't care where zech wanted to sit nor make him feel like he had to make a certain choice out of etiquette.
"You wanted to help me?"