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“His wife?”
She let out a bitter groan. “His fourth wife. Never should’ve married her. She’s obviously a gold-digging, money grubbing little suck-up. I could tell that from the first moment I met her. I don’t know why poor Franklin even bothered. He was such an innocent. It was clear she was out for what she could get. But he never could say no to a nice pair of bazookas.”
“When did they get married?”
“Three months ago. Lavish wedding in the islands, eight-hundred guests, everything to the nines,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I was invited, of course. Frankie told me he wanted something small but his bride wanted to go all out. And what Kiki wants, Kiki gets.”
Daisy had been absently moving the pen around as the woman spoke. Now, she stared at what she’d written on the paper. She had the word KIKI written in big letters, underlined thickly. She could almost hear her father’s voice, nudging her in that direction. The wife. If she was going to start investigating, that would be the place.
The only thing was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
All of her cases involved cheating spouses. The last murder she’d solved? Committed by the fiancé. It seemed like going down a familiar rabbit hole.
“And so what are you hoping I’ll do, Ms. . . .”
“Tate. It’s Tate. I kept his last name. It’s better than my maiden, which no one could spell,” she explained, leaning back in her chair. “Well, isn’t it obvious? I hope you’ll beat that little floozy at her own game. She comes off as a ditzy little blonde, but she’s a sharp little minx, you mark my words. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“She was on the plane with him, then, when he died?”
“Well . . . no. He was with a number of friends and work associates. But Frankie’s a sweetheart of a man. A little silly, a little bit of a playboy, but he has a good heart. He doesn’t have enemies. People like him. It has to be her. She wants his money.”
Daisy stared at the paper, confused. “But how do you think she killed him if she wasn’t—”
“I don’t know! That’s what I want you to find out!” Goldie slapped her palm on the desk. “Maybe she had an accomplice. I don’t know. But the fact is that she’s involved, she wanted to collect his big fortune, and she didn’t want me to have any of it.”
“You? Why would you—”
“Because he was all set to give me a loan to get my business off the ground,” she said, digging in her designer handbag and pulling out a card.
Goldie’s long, elaborately painted fingernails nearly scratched Daisy as she took the card from her hands and read:
Goldie’s Designs
Fun for Nails!
Daisy looked up to see Goldie showing off a set of bejeweled fingernails, each one with a little palm-tree and beach scene on it. “I’m doing nail appliques,” she explained. “It’s a worldwide venture. I’ve got clients all over the place, and I’m in the process of opening up a little place in Mexico. My little pet project.”
“Oh. Very nice. How much was the loan for?”
“Six million.”
Daisy nearly choked.Little pet project?Not by a long shot.
Goldie’s eyes narrowed. “It’s been a long time coming. I would’ve had the money last year if that woman didn’t stand in the way. She insisted he wait until after the wedding to think about it. And so he did. And now she’s gone and killed him, and I guaranteed you that, conveniently, he left all of his money to her! He always was such a softie when it came to a pretty gal.”
Daisy wrote more notes, thinking it over. Her father would likely have taken the job. At the very least, he would’ve known if getting involved was something worthwhile. But she was not Edward Fortune. Far from it.
“So you’d need me to go . . .” She began. “To Venice?”
“Yes, of course. That’s where the little harlot lives.”
Daisy gritted her teeth. She’d been fine in Rhodes last month, but that didn’t mean that she could jet off anywhere at a moment’s notice. Her father’s health could turn on a dime, and whenever he became confused and difficult, she was usually the only one who could talk him out of it.
Otherwise, she would’ve taken this job without question. It was a job. And she needed more of those in order to keep him afloat at Independence Court. If she got a few more cheating spouse cases in, locally, she might be able to save enough money to pay for his care without having to travel overseas.
“I’m not sure if I have the room in my schedule,” Daisy said, flipping through her calendar and hoping Goldie wouldn’t see how empty it was.
But Goldie was no dope. She’d seen all the empty desks, the broken-down equipment. And the phone hadn’t rung once.
