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“Yes. Very happy,” she said. “That is why it is a surprise to hear about his death. If you ask me, it could be revenge. Or maybe he just partied a little too much and it finally caught up with him.”
Across the casino, one of the old ladies at the slot machines hit a jackpot, because a bell began to ring and she started to whoop loudly.
As Daisy glanced onto the casino floor, Tina checked her watch. “Excusez-moi, I have to go, I only had a fifteen-minute break.”
“Of course,” Daisy said, moving aside so she could hurry back to her table. There were two men seated there, waiting to play.
Daisy walked to the entrance and stood near the restaurant, where the valets had seen Franklin and his friends, doing shots. Since it was in between meal-times, the seating area was empty, except for a few men at the bar, watching the soccer game.
She turned to leave, thinking. It was odd that Tina had pegged him as a cheapskate, with cheap champagne and department store clothes. Everyone else said he’d been throwing money around like it was water: big tips, big gambling debts, lots of flash.
Maybe that was all it was. Flash, and no substance.
Franklin Tate had bought the private island because he valued his privacy. Roberta had said that. And yet, he’d sold off part of his private island to investors, let someone buy up the airfield. Why had he done that?
Only one answer stuck in Daisy’s mind: money troubles.
And Kiki loved to spend his money. That’s what everyone had said. “He said something to her about his money, and how all she did was spend, spend, spend, bleeding him dry.”
That was why they’d fought. And for a man who had never worried about money before, that meant only one thing.
Financial trouble.
Daisy hurried out of the casino and asked one of the valets to hail a cab for her. She didn’t know if that was behind his death, but had a pretty good idea of who she could ask to find out more.
CHAPTER NINE
Twenty minutes later, Daisy was sitting outside the Plaza du Casino, holding her phone up and hoping she’d be able to connect the video call to the United States.
The screen lit up, and then she was looking at the ruddy, round face of a man with a short, cinnamon-colored beard and wire-rimmed glasses. “Hello, there, great to be in touch with you, Betty!” he said in a hospitable Southern drawl. “Thanks for filling out my online form and arranging this meeting. It sure is a pleasure to talk to you. Where are you calling from? My form said Jersey but those look like palm trees, behind you. It looks like . . .”
“Monte Carlo,” she said, taking note of the way his eyes widened slightly.
He choked a bit and said, “How can I help you with your finances? You said you have over six million dollars to invest?”
“I lied,” Daisy said. “None of that’s true. I actually called your office four times and your secretary told me you were out. I figured you might not want to talk to me, so I went on your calendar app and made an appointment, and shockingly, you were available.”
He frowned, coughed some more, and then grabbed a water bottle and took a big gulp. “Wait . . . you’re that private investigator who was calling me?”
“Right. And you were with Franklin Tate right before his death, so naturally, I’d like to talk to you about it.”
His face grew redder. “I don’t have anything to say. Yes, I was with him that night. But I was out of it most of the time, and when the plane landed, I left, went to the casinos in Venice for a while, and then caught my flight back home. I was already back in Texas when I found out he was dead.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t notice anything unusual at all when you were on the plane with him.”
“Not a thing. He and I go way back. I’ve been on at least a dozen trips like that with him, and it’s always the same. Good time. We get a little crazy for a weekend, then we go back to the ol’ grind.” He pulled at his tie, which looked like it was too tight, considering the roll of flesh that peeked from the top of it. “I didn’t notice anything different.”
“So he wasn’t acting strange at all?”
He shrugged. “Not that I noticed. He was same ol’ lovable Frankie. Not so bright, liked to joke, and have a good time. I never said no when he invited me on one of his trips. He’s a big spender, treats us all really well.”
A pigeon came strutting by on the curb, and Daisy silently shooed it away. “You were not only a friend, but you managed his money, didn’t you?”
“I did. I always have.”
“Can you tell me if he was having any financial problems?”
He shook his head. “That’s privileged information. I don’t think—”
