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The girl stared at her, astonishment and anger flaring in her eyes. “What? No,” she said, clearly attacked, clutching her heart. She looked up and down the hallway. “Well . . . actually . . . can I come in?”
Daisy stepped aside.
The woman stepped into the hotel room and made herself comfortable on the king bed. “To be truthful, he has an ex. Not Goldie. Not Vicki, his second wife. It was Portia.”
“His third wife?” Daisy ventured.
She nodded. “Yes! They were only married a month, right before he met me. It was kind of a whirlwind romance. The two of them had strong personalities, and I guess they clashed. So they agreed to end it. But I came to find out that he was still talking to her. And once, I found a text he’d sent, which said he never should’ve divorced her.”
That, alone, didn’t mean much. He could’ve just been joking. He liked to play games, after all. But everything together . . . “Did you tell him you found that?”
“Oh, yes. I’d also found receipts that he’d gone out to lunch with her. Several times.”
Daisy thought of the mysterious redhead, her curiosity sparking. “Wait. Does she live in Lyon?”
“No. Right here in Venice. But that was what we were fighting about. Her. I said if I found out she had anything to do with this trip, there’d be hell to pay. He promised me up and down that she would not be a part of it.”
“Did you believe him?”
She shrugged. “Yes, of course. That’s why we made up, because he told me he only had eyes for me. And it turned out to be true, right? There were plenty of women on the trip. All the boys talked about the revolving door of high-class escorts and other girls. But no Portia.”
Daisy still couldn’t get the redhead out of her mind. “But what does she look like?”
“Oh!” Kiki opened her phone and scrolled through, her long fingernail tapping the screen. Then she handed it over to her. “She’s very pretty. Smart, too.”
Contrary to Daisy’s hopes, the woman was not a redhead. She had long dark hair, and was slight, with an exotic quality to her. It sparked something in Daisy’s mind, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. “Oh . . . she’s very beautiful.”
“Yeah, her mother’s from the Philippines, I think,” Kiki said, rolling her eyes as she took the phone back. “He told me he met her on a flight to Brazil when he was married to his second wife, and it was instant love. Or whatever.”
Something fell into place as Daisy stood there. As unusual and exotic as Tate’s third ex-wife was, there was something about her that was also very familiar. Daisy gritted her teeth, trying to focus on just what it was.
“Anyway,” Kiki stood up. “I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done. And you can go back to Goldie and tell her I had nothing to do with it. Her old gold-digging wife theory turned out to be wrong. You think you could send me a picture of Goldie’s face when you tell her the news?”
That was the prevailing theory, whenever a rich man died, wasn’t it? The wife, poisoning her beloved husband. But in this case . . .
Only half-thinking as she escorted Kiki out, Daisy murmured, “Sorry, I already told her. She was surprised, definitely.”
The young woman snapped her fingers. “Oh, drat. I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall . . .”
Kiki droned on, but Daisy was no longer listening. Was there a chance that Goldie was right, after all? That the third wife had something to do with it? But she was an ex. She’d get no benefit out of his death. Unless . . .
She thought of what Kiki had just said about Franklin Tate:Okay, yes, he was a little reckless and didn’t pay attention to the details, but his heart was in the right place.
He’d been married to Portia for only a month. “Did you get a look at his will?” she blurted, holding the door.
“Not yet . . .” she began, confused. “Why?”
“Did he ever mention having it changed so that you could inherit his fortune?”
“Well . . . no,” she said, thinking. “I’m not sure. We never talked about it, really. I just assumed that he’d change it so that I’d inherit everything, but . . .”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
She nodded, eyes widening. “Are you thinking . . .?”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” Daisy admitted honestly, grabbing her bag. “Do you have Portia’s address? I think I need to talk to her.”
“For what reason?” Kiki asked. “I thought—”
