Included in the meeting, Eve thought, but not treated like the rest. Just a little less than the rest.
It made her think of country clubs and golf, and treating a man who provided a service to a fancy round and manly drinks.
Following a hunch, she did some digging. In ten minutes, she had the golf pro at Copley’s club on the ’link. In five more, with some pushing, she had Copley’s regular caddy.
In about seven more, with some persuasion, she had a very clear image of how that initial round of golf went down.
She added to her notes—anecdotal evidence maybe, but it was adding up.
Forgetting the time, she went back to her incomings, opened one from Peabody.
Had a brainstorm during my pedicure so did some surfing. Got some skinny on Copley—couple articles attached. Gist is: First wife came from money. Not Quigley money, but pretty shiny. Five years in, divorce. Accusations of cheating on both sides. Word is, he ended up with a nice if not princely settlement.
Was next-to-engaged to another highflier a couple years later. Accusations of cheating—and one of the cheatees was—wait for it—Natasha Quigley, also married at that time. He and Quigley got married twenty-two months later.
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?”