Festive in Death (In Death #39)(70)

Romantic story is he whisked her off to Hawaii, where her family has a home on Maui—proposed. He’d already applied for the license, done the paperwork, even bought her a dress, the flowers—then sprang it on her. They got married the next day on the beach. Some rumors at the time—he was stepping out with his former almost-fiancée, and there was trouble in the Quigley-Copley paradise—quashed with the elopement.

I really like the romance stuff, but it sounds like he got caught cheating or was suspected of same by Quigley, and handled it with a quickie wedding. Sewed up the bird in the hand, right?

This is all Gossip Channel stuff, so needs lots of salt. But he’s coming off a son of a bitch, I think.

Can’t wait to dance on my sparkly new toes! See you soon.

P,DD

“Good work,” Eve murmured. She saved the incoming—she’d read the articles later.

For now, she pulled up his financials again, emphasis on his hidden accounts. Side pieces, even when you didn’t buy a fancy apartment to keep them in, cost money.

Dinner, gifts, little getaways.

She began combing through, brought up Quigley’s as well to try to coordinate.

Her eyes, aching from studying figures, lifted to Roarke when he came in.

“I did everything. I was just taking a break from it. I’ve only been in here . . . forty-six minutes,” she calculated after a quick check.

“I’ll say again, I’m not in charge of all that. I will say I just did a walk-through. It looks very well, and the adjustments you made here and there work nicely. Also, first wave of catering’s just arrived. The head there is nose to nose with the head decorator. There may be blood.”

“If so, I’ll make the arrest. I’m just going to let that play out for a bit.”

“How about a glass of wine?”

“Oh yeah, how about that? I got a report from Mira and I really wanted to read it. It adds weight to Copley as my prime suspect. Then I talked to his caddy.”

“As in golf?” Roarke asked as he poured wine.

“Yeah. Her report and analysis got me thinking about how he and Ziegler both had this ego that needed stroking—sex, status, money. So how would the golf game go? I played it with the caddy that I was digging for info on Ziegler seeing as he’s dead, then tickled out what I wanted about Copley. Copley played benefactor—and made sure Ziegler knew it, felt it. His club, his course, his caddy, his treat.”

“For some a gift is only a symbol of their own superior position, which makes it not a gift at all.”

“I’d just say the gift came with sharp, sticky ribbons—which is pretty much the same.”

“And more visual. Ziegler’s reaction to Copley’s largess?”

“The caddy said Ziegler expressed gratitude but didn’t mean it, not if you paid attention. The caddy said he thought Copley was a little ungracious, but probably because Ziegler trounced him four holes in a row, and Copley gets a little testy when he’s losing, which he told me means he—the caddy—gets blamed and gets stiffed on the tip at the end of the round.”

“So we add poor sportsmanship to Copley’s sins.”

“The caddy confided—we bonded—that Copley’s known for hurling his clubs into the trees after a bad—what is it—slice. And once after a bad lie—lay?”

“Don’t ask me.” Roarke only shrugged. “I’m no fan of the game.”

“After whatever it was, Copley and the guy he was playing against got into a shouting match that went into a pushy-shovey match. The other guy ended up in the water trap thing.”

“Extremely poor sportsmanship.”

“Wet guy threatens to kick Copley’s ass, sue off what’s left of it. He’s pulling himself out of the drink,” Eve continued. “People are starting to zip up in those cart things, and Copley backs down, lots of apologies. Buys the guy a high-class putter. And according to the caddy, bad-mouths the wet guy every chance he gets.”

“We have poor sport who has a poor temper to match, and is also a cowardly backbiter.”

“That’s what I see. So back to Ziegler and that golf game. Ziegler’s clearly winning by the sixth hole.” She paused to drink. “Who decided how many holes there had to be?”

“Again, I only play when I can’t avoid it. Ask someone else.”

“Maybe I will. Meanwhile, Ziegler’s ahead, Copley’s bitching. But then Copley ordered up drinks—prime brew. He stuck to water and power drinks while Ziegler got half cut and, being half cut, lost his focus and his form.”

“And Copley won the round?”

“Yeah, rubbed it in some, but took Ziegler to the nineteenth hole for more drinks. I get why they call the bar the nineteenth hole, but why are there eighteen to begin with?”

“It’s as good a number as any,” Roarke supposed. “Why four bases in baseball?”

“Because they make a diamond.”

“One might ask what a diamond has to do with baseball, but I won’t or we’ll be at this half the night. Let’s just finish off the golf.”

“Right. Copley had him back a couple times, but with the brother-in-law along, and that’s about it for the golf portion. Then Peabody came up with more weight, but of the gossip variety. Tales of cheating, divorce, cheating, elopements.”