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“He’s dead, Mr. Buckner. Possibly murdered. His ex-wife hired me to get to the bottom of it. And I need to know who would benefit from his death, besides Kiki Tate. As a friend, I think you’d want to get to the bottom of it, too.”
He sighed, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, okay. The truth is, if you really want to know, no one would benefit from his death. Not even Kiki.” He typed something into his computer and stared off-screen, bringing up something Daisy couldn’t see. “I have his account in front of me and it says right now that his net-worth is in the red.”
“Did he know that? How did it happen?”
Dirk Buckner chuckled mirthlessly. “Of course he did. I sent him reports all the time, telling him to watch it. But he couldn’t say no to that wife of his. And he made some bad investments, against my better judgement.”
“Why didn’t you try to stop him?”
His eyes narrowed. “Because in the end, it’s my client’s money. I can advise them, I can tell them to be careful, but in the end, I do what they want me to do.”
“You knew he was broke, and yet you had no trouble accepting his generosity for this trip? Why would he even go on the trip, considering he was in such bad financial shape?” she mused.
“Hey,” he said, looking nervous. “I came here wanting to get him to reel it in. I did. But we had a conversation and in the end, he assured me everything was okay. He told me to just enjoy it, and he’d figure some way out. He said he always did. So I assumed he had some business venture on the horizon I didn’t know about.”
Daisy pulled her legs up under her on the bench. “Not a business venture. I think his big idea was gambling and trying to win big.”
Dirk shook his head. “No, he always lost at the casinos. I thought he had something else planned. Now that I think of it, it kind of felt that way, like his last hurrah, before he did something he had to do . . . maybe it was suicide? He did have a big life insurance policy.”
“He did? How much was that for?”
“Ten million.”
“To Kiki?”
“I assume so.”
“What about his estate? Everything else?”
He shook his head. “Everything else he owns is mortgaged to the hilt. He doesn’t have any other liquid assets. It’s just that life insurance policy.”
“Do you think that he was upset with Kiki’s overspending?”
He nodded. “Yeah, he did mention that the only reason Kiki loved him was for his money. But he was okay with that. I do think he was worried that once it was gone, she’d be gone, too. So yeah . . . he was a little desperate. That’s the way he always seemed around her—desperate. Like he’d do anything to keep her on his arm. She’s kind of ornamental. Stunning girl, the type of woman that men like him only wish they can have a shot at.”
Daisy gnawed on her lip. The more she heard about Kiki Tate, the more she wanted to know. And she definitely wanted to interview this woman.
“Thank you for the information,” she said, ending the call.
She thought about what Matteo had said.She left a day ago and packed an overnight bag. She mentioned something about taking a boat when she reached Venice. Which means she’s probably at her villa in Nice.
Scanning the sun-soaked streets, her eyes fastened on a sign on the main road:Nice 23km
She was on her way back to the Nice airport, anyway. Kiki had come here to escape, but as much as Daisy knew she wouldn’t be welcomed by the young wife, this was her only chance to get answers.
As she stood up to hail a cab back to Nice, her phone rang. It was her client, Goldie Tate.
She winced. She was really hoping she’d have at least been able to interview Goldie’s main suspect, prior to filling Goldie in on her progress. Not having spoken to Kiki Tate, her sole reason for coming out here—she felt like a failure as she lifted the phone to her ear. “Hi, Goldie.”
“So, what have you got?” she demanded. No pretense, though Daisy already knew not to expect that with Goldie.
“I was planning to call you later. I am on my way to speak with Kiki. She wasn’t at the villa in Venice. She’s at the villa in Nice.”
“Ha!” Goldie blurted, so loud it rattled Daisy’s eardrum. “What did I tell you? She’s guilty. She’s so guilty, she’s escaping the scene of the crime.”
“That has yet to be determined.” Daisy said, standing and walking toward the edge of the pier. There were a number of beautifully dressed people walking the streets, in fashionable, flashy clothes. Daisy felt drab among them as she leaned over the railing, looking down at the dark sea.
“Who else could it be?” Goldie asked.
