I've been staring at the same photos for two hours, trying to figure out the identity of a package thief. It's not a good case, it's not even a case really, but it's a distraction, which is what I need right now.

Dad's at lunch with Cliff, giving me the space that I keep telling him I need even though I'm not sure what I need. I finished my coffee and was headed for the bathroom when my phone rang.

I was shocked to see Nicole's number on my caller ID. She hadn't come to the funeral, not that I was surprised. We hadn't spoken since I confessed to bugging her office.

"Nicole," I tried to sound normal. I wasn't sure though what normal was anymore. "Hi."

"This isn't a social call," her voice was clipped. "Your….friend," she said the word with a pointed sarcasm, "Dick is here, drunk off his ass, high as a kite and seconds away from destroying the place."

The old Veronica might have made a joke that she was already destroying it. Or suggested she call the police. Most likely I would've corrected her that Dick wasn't a friend at all. He was a cloud of booze and scene queens that was the only family Logan had.

The New and Miserable Veronica though, somehow was concerned for Logan's oldest friend. "I'll be right there." I scribbled a note for my dad and headed for the bar.

Logan's bike was a pain in the ass. I don't know why he liked riding it around. I'd thought about selling it, or trashing it, or burning it, but like his underwear and protein powder, I couldn't get rid of anything that was his. Not yet.

When I walked into Comrade Quack's, it was fairly empty except for a few working girls at the bar and Dick. Nicole was nowhere to be found.

Dick was slumped on a stool at a high top, empty bottles and shot glasses covering the table. He was tossing darts at the wall rather than a board, and there was a number of misses scattered on the floor.

"You look like you could use a tequila," I said, sitting on a stool across from him.

"You know what I look like?" Dick picked up an empty shot glass and tried to drink from it. "I look like someone who's lost everything." He took the bucket of darts-that would explain why there were so many all over the place- from his lap and plunked it on the table, sending shot glasses flying to the floor. He grabbed a couple darts and I leaned over as he began chucking them at the wall.

"I've lost my whole family," he threw one that stuck in the wall a few feet away. "My mom," Dick threw another that didn't make it past the table. "My brother," he threw two this time, both hit the wall and then the floor. "My dad," Dick went to throw a dart but his hand was empty. He reached for the same empty shot glass and tried to drink it again. "And now Logan."

"Come on," I reached for his arm. "I'll get you an Uber."

He yanked away from me and grabbed some more darts. I was out of the line of fire entirely this time as he hurled them at the wall.

"I don't remember my password. Logan was good at that shit," he found a beer bottle with a swig left in it and downed it. "Logan would've called me an Uber. He always did the right thing." he glared at me. "Didn't he Ronnie?"

I wanted to knock his ass right off the stool, but it seemed unfair given our shared grief. So I reached for his arm again. "Dick. You should go home."

"We were drinking," Dick dropped the darts he was holding to the floor. "We were drinking and he told me you said yes. You were getting married. Mr. and Mrs. Echolls. Happily ever after, eh? How'd that work out?"

I found myself wishing there was alcohol in one of those glasses and walked to the bar to get a shot. When I went back to Dick, he was throwing the darts at the ceiling. He had better aim for that than for the wall.

"He didn't invite me," Dick emptied the dart bucket and called out to the room for more darts and another drink. "Told me you were keeping it small and that he understood I was grieving." he faced me now, and I wasn't sure if his eyes were glassy and bloodshot or if there were actual tears.

"You should've invited me. I would've thrown a party. Somewhere classier than this joint," he gestured to the room. "I would've gotten him pissing drunk and he'd still be here."

"Dick."

"You know I'm right."

"Screw you." I was done. Logan's friend or not, I was done with this shit. I walked back to the bar, paid for my shot and used my app to get him an Uber. I wasn't sure I cared if he got in it or wandered into oncoming traffic.