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He was the second person who’d sung the praises of the first Mrs. Tate. As brash as she was, people did seem to like her. It was a good sign. The last thing Daisy wanted to do was find out she was working for a killer again.
“You think there’s any truth to the theory that someone might have done this on purpose?” she asked as they left the plane and climbed down the steps.
She almost slipped as she reached the bottom stair, but Arlo reached out a hand to help steady her. “I guess. You’re rich like that, you make enemies. But I wouldn’t know who his enemies were. Maybe some of his friends would know better.”
Daisy looked around and realized something. The hangar was plenty big, large enough for a few more planes. But this was the only plane left. In fact, the whole place seemed in disrepair. Daisy had to wonder if Kiki’s fear of flying was the reason he’d lost interest in this place . . . or was it something else? “So he sold off a lot of this because his wife didn’t like flying, huh?”
“All of it, actually,” he explained. “The whole place belongs to someone else, now. He just charters the plane when he needs it.”
She blinked. “So it’s not his?”
He shook his head.
A wild idea popped into her head. She thought about the black card Goldie had given her, all-expenses paid, for everything. She still wasn’t comfortable using it, but it would be amazing to take the same route he’d taken that night. “So . . . I could charter this plane, with you piloting it, if I wanted?”
Arlo’s eyes lit up. “I’d love it. Guy who was going to charter it after Tate cancelled on me. Didn’t want to ride the same plane as a dead guy. I’ve been bored out of my skull.”
She gnawed on her lip, considering it. First, her pilot friend would have to sober up a bit. But it was a possibility.
“I think that’s all,” she said as they walked together outside. “Oh, one last thing. Do you know where I might find some of the men who were aboard the flight with Tate?”
He scratched the side of his face, thinking. “Well, you might have trouble getting in touch with Dirk. He’s Franklin’s financial guy, and lives in Texas. I heard him saying he was rushing off to the casino in Venice to try his luck before catching a late-morning flight.”
Daisy wrinkled her nose, the irony not lost on her that she’d traveled so far away from the United States only to hear that one of her top suspects was back there. Hopefully, she could get by without his input, or if need be, reach him by phone.
Of course. All these rich, important people . . . they were slippery. She’d learned that from her father. They never stayed in one place for too long.
“What about the other two?”
“Well, Dorry—that’s what everyone calls Dorrance Carroway—he lives in downtown Venice, I believe. He’s a trusty.”
“A . . . trusty?”
“Yeah. Trust fund kid. Never worked a day in his life. Nice guy, but he never grew up. A lot of Tate’s brotherhood members were like that.”
“You mean, theFrati?”
His eyes gleamed. “Yeah, right. That’s what they called themselves. Tight little group of rich guys who played a lot harder than they’ve ever worked. You probably won’t get much out of them.”
“And why not?”
He laughed. “Well, because they’re brothers. Thick as thieves. They keep secrets.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand. If they’re so close, wouldn’t they want to know who killed their brother?”
“Not if it means implicating one of the living brothers.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”
She understood. He meant they were all back-stabbing types. Shifting their loyalty whenever it suited them, to whomever was in the most advantageous position, to whomever was likely to win.
“Point taken. But I’d still like to get in touch with them.”
“Well, if so, you’re in luck—Matteo Frenzi was Tate’s little sidekick. His protégé, if you will. He came from nothing and Tate took him under his wing.”
“Great.” A person described as Tate’s protégé would be less likely to betray him. “You know where he is?”
Arlo pointed toward the horizon, in the direction she’d come from. “He lives in the dock house. You probably saw it when you first came in?”
She hadn’t noticed any house when she arrived, other than the big one atop the cliff, overshadowing everything. But now that she thought of it, she had seen a small white building with peeling paint, near the pier. She’d thought it was just a place where they kept old boating equipment.
