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“What’s your handicap?”
“Twelve.”
Roarke watched Dudley smirk, an expression of derision the man didn’t bother to mask. “That’s why it pays to keep the game sharp.”
“I suppose so. You?”
“Oh, I run at eight.”
“I think that’s what Su hits. I should send him along with you. He’d have a better time of it.”
Dudley let out a short laugh, then signaled. Roarke turned, gave Moriarity another casual nod as he approached.
“I didn’t know you played here,” Moriarity said when he joined them.
“Rarely.”
“Roarke’s entertaining a business associate with a round, though he claims golf isn’t his game.”
“It’s the perfect way to mix business and pleasure,” Moriarity commented, “if you possess any skill.”
“What’s one without the other? David.” Roarke turned again, drawing the lean man with the silver-speckled black skullcap of hair into the group. “David Su, Winston Dudley and Sylvester Moriarity. David and I have some mutual interests in Olympus Resort, among others.”
“A pleasure.” David offered his hand to both. “Would Winston Dudley the Third be your father?”
“He would.”
“We’re acquainted. I hope you’ll give him my best.”
“Happy to.” Dudley angled, subtly, giving his shoulder to Roarke. “How do you know him?”
“Other mutual business interests, and a shared passion for golf. He’s a fierce competitor.”
“You’ve played him?”
“Many times. I beat him the last time we played by a single stroke. We have to make arrangements for a rematch.”
“Maybe I can stand as a surrogate. What do you say, Sly? Shall we make it a foursome?”
“Why not? Unless Roarke objects.”
“Not at all.” And that, Roarke thought, couldn’t have been easier.
Shortly, they stood outside in the breeze surveying the first hole. Dudley smoothed on his golf cap.
“I met your wife,” he said to Roarke.
“Did you?”
“You must have heard about the murder. A limo driver, booked by someone who, it appears, hacked into one of our security people’s accounts. A terrible thing.”
“Yes, of course. I caught a mention of it on a screen report. I hope that’s not causing you too much trouble.”
“A ripple.” He dismissed it with a flick of the wrist as he took his driver from the caddy. “She did me a service when she uncovered a scam being run by two of my employees.”
“Really. Not connected to the murder?”
“Apparently not. Just something she came across while looking into the compromised account. I should send her flowers.”
