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“He said he was at the WYEP studio,” Mettner added. “We have evidence!”
Gretchen said, “Not evidence. Just a statement from the security guard. He could have lied. He was probably paid to lie. It’s obvious that Beau Collins wanted to keep his presence at that game a secret.”
Noah said, “But why? What the hell was Beau Collins doing at a basketball game for kids in the first place?”
“I have my suspicions,” Josie said. “But we won’t know for sure until we talk to him. Let’s go.”
FORTY-SEVEN
Beau Collins answered the door to his hotel room looking like someone had beaten him up. His hair stuck up in three different directions. Dark circles smudged the skin beneath his eyes. A five o’clock shadow dappled his face. Gone was the sharply cut suit he’d worn at the studio. Now he wore sweatpants and a T-shirt that bore some sort of unidentifiable stain. His shoulders sagged. He seemed to be shoring himself up for bad news when he saw Josie and Noah. The smell of bourbon wafted off his breath when he spoke. “Is someone else dead?”
“Mr. Collins, can we come inside?” asked Josie.
He looked behind him. Josie and Noah had already been inside his suite, which offered a living area and a bedroom. The bedroom had been a mess of discarded clothing, but the parlor area hadn’t been too bad. Josie said, “We don’t care about a mess.”
With a sigh, Beau said, “It’s not that. Margot is here, and it’s not because I’m sleeping with her. She’s here to offer support.”
Noah said, “We’re aware. Our Chief has a unit assigned to her. That officer is out front. We spoke to him when we arrived.”
Josie added, “As long as you don’t mind answering more questions in front of her.”
Beau gave a dry laugh. “She’s already heard every deep, dark secret I didn’t want anyone to know in the last few days. What’s one more?”
When Josie didn’t respond to that, worry flashed across his face. Still, he stepped aside to admit them. In the living room area, Margot was walking around with a trash bag, scooping up takeout containers. With no make-up, dressed casually in jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt, she looked more her age. In fact, she looked very young, and there was something vaguely familiar in the look of surprise that she gave Josie and Noah. She dropped the bag onto the floor and wiped her hands on her jeans. “I can go,” she said. “I’ll leave this for housekeeping, but Beau, you have to let them come in tomorrow.”
From behind them, Beau said, “No. Please stay, Margot. I would feel better if you stayed.”
She looked toward the doors that led to the bathroom and bedroom. “I’ll just use the restroom.”
Beau watched her go and plopped onto the long, overstuffed couch. “Tell me,” he said gravely. “Don’t spare me any details.”
Noah said, “No one’s dead. Yet.”
Beau looked momentarily confused. “What?” A tremulous smile appeared on his face. “That’s a good thing!”
“Yeah,” Noah said, exchanging a glance at Josie. “It is.”
“But you have news.”
“We have questions,” Josie said. “First of all, a member of your show’s staff told us earlier today that Claudia was keeping some kind of secret. Were you aware of that?”
His brow furrowed. “No. I am not aware of Claudia keeping secrets. Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Josie said. “What matters is that it was a secret that Claudia believed could destroy her life.”
Beau laughed. “That’s absurd. I don’t know who said that but they’re just plain wrong. My wife was a good person. A kind, caring, woman. An honest woman.”
“Can’t say the same about you though,” said Josie.
“What does that mean?” Beau said.
“You also lied about the donation that Claudia made,” Noah pointed out.
Beau’s mouth fell open. Josie counted two beats before he clamped it shut. His lips worked before any words came out. “I did no such thing.”
“The women’s center never received a cash donation for thirty thousand dollars,” Josie said.
Beau blinked. “What are you saying?”
