“Nice one!” Bud exclaimed when Mitch finally connected. “Straight and true!”
Mitch gathered up Niles Seymour’s bag and marched down the cart path after it. It felt odd to be playing with a dead man’s clubs. Knowing that Seymour’s sweat had dried on the very same hand grip that Mitch was now clutching. He’d even found Seymour’s worn, crusty glove in a side pocket of the bag. Which he’d chosen not to wear. A scorecard was stuffed in there as well. Seymour had shot an 87 his last time out. Mitch wondered if he’d cheated. He figured he had.
The course was deserted. No one was ahead of them or behind them.
As they walked toward their tee shots Bud Havenhurst took a deep breath and blurted out, “It’s about this missing money of Dolly’s, Mitch. Niles had nothing whatsoever to do with it. I did, the truth be told.”
“Exactly what are you telling me here?” Mitch asked him. “You embezzled Dolly’s savings?”
“Absolutely not,” Bud answered vehemently. “I secured them. I had the idea Niles was preparing to leave. When I saw him with that woman, I mean. If a married man is planning to stick around he does not carry on with some babe in public. Not around here he doesn’t. It’s a kind of unwritten rule. Hence, I was deeply, deeply concerned for Dolly’s financial welfare. The man was a naked opportunist-I felt certain he was about to clean her out and run. So, strictly in the interest of shielding her assets, I did something a shade unethical…” He paused now to play his second shot, a 5-iron. Again, he played it safe, laying up just short of the green so as to avoid the sand trap. “I have power of attorney,” he continued. “I have the PINs to her checking and savings accounts. Also a key to her safety deposit box, where the stock certificates were kept. I liquidated everything. And hid it where Niles couldn’t get at it-in my own safety deposit box. That’s where it is at this very moment. Every penny of it. It’s not for me. I swear it’s not. It’s for Dolly. But I did it without her prior knowledge or consent. She doesn’t even know it’s there. And now the state police are looking into it. And I could be disbarred. Christ, I could even go to jail.”
Mitch shanked his own iron shot badly. It didn’t go more than ten yards down the fairway. But he nailed it on his next try. It went streaking straight at the green. It went streaking straight over the green. They resumed walking, Mitch shaking his head. “Why don’t you just tell Dolly? Why didn’t you tell Dolly? The poor woman thinks she’s broke.”
“That’s a fair question, Mitch,” Bud allowed, sticking out his big chin. “In response, I can only say I had a compelling personal reason-Mandy. She’s pathologically jealous of Dolly. And if she were to find out I’ve jeopardized my career for her, well, let’s just put it this way-I don’t want her to find out.”
“Afraid she’ll set you on fire while you sleep?”
The lawyer glanced at him sharply. “Lieutenant Mitry knows about that?”
“She does,” Mitch affirmed. “Doesn’t it bother you-living with a woman who’s so volatile?”
“Mitch, when you get to be my age you won’t ask a question like that,” the lawyer responded, smiling wanly. “You’ll understand that passion is something rare and precious. It was missing from my life for quite a long time. A man will go to great lengths to get it back. Even if that means accepting a bit of… uncertainty. With Mandy, I’ve gotten it back. And I’ve never been happier.”
Mitch wasn’t sure whether he believed him or not. The man baffled him. He had seemed so proper, so responsible. Yet the more Bud talked now, the more unhinged he sounded. In fact, if what he’d said was to be believed, the man was pathologically self-destructive. Was he to be believed? Had he put his career and his second marriage in jeopardy in order to protect Dolly’s assets? Or had he cooked up something far more fiendish-and was now merely trying to spin the truth in such a way that would keep him clear of the murders? Just how clever was this man? How good a liar?
“I repeat,” Mitch said. “Why don’t you just tell Dolly?”
“I’ve told you-because Mandy will find out.”
“Why didn’t you think of that when you did it?”
“I wasn’t exactly expecting Niles to turn up dead, was I?”
“Well, what were you expecting?”
“That he’d turn up in Boca or Vegas or some such hole,” Bud said. “I’d tell Dolly I’d managed to put the squeeze on him to cough up or else-not bothering to go into any details. And that would be it.”
The lawyer used his wedge now to chip onto the green. His ball rolled within eight feet of the cup. If he holed it, he’d make par.
Mitch didn’t see his own ball anywhere. He would have to go hunt for it. “You said you thought I could help you. How? What can I possibly do?”
“I haven’t got long, Mitch,” Bud answered, his voice rising with desperation. “A day at most. The lieutenant is bound to figure it out. And when she does she will lower the boom on me.”
“So why don’t you explain it to her? She seems like a reasonable person.”
“My thought was that if it came from you it might conceivably stay off the books, as it were. Because this can’t go in her official report. If it does I’ll be disbarred. You do understand that, don’t you?”
Mitch stared at the man in disbelief. “You want me to tell her?”
“Well, yes. You two are friends, aren’t you?”
“We are?”
“She’s going for barefoot strolls on the beach with you, isn’t she? I saw you two together this morning. You seemed very tight.”
“She was questioning me, Bud. We were walking on the beach because she’s allergic to the mold in my house. Or so she claimed. I think she has a cold-but that’s beside the point. The point is, you were totally mistaken. We aren’t friends. In fact, I would go so far as to say the lieutenant actively dislikes me.”
Bud’s face dropped. “Christ, now I’ve gone and screwed the pooch. I’ve told you everything.” He ran a hand through his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair, clearly distraught. “Now you have to tell her.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Mitch shot back, suddenly feeling himself getting sucked in deeper and deeper.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Bud said hastily. “Oh, beans, I don’t know what to say, Mitch. I’m completely at sea. You were my best hope.”
Mitch sighed inwardly. I am lost in a foreign language film. I can’t figure out what is going on. I don’t understand these people. “Look, Bud,” he finally said to him. “I honestly think the truth will go down a whole lot better coming from you. But if you really want me to, I’ll tell Lieutenant Mitry for you.”
The lawyer’s face broke into a huge grin. “Thanks, Mitch,” he exulted, pumping his hand gratefully. “You’re the real goods. A true friend. Somehow, I just knew I could count on you.”
It was midafternoon by the time Bud maneuvered his Range Rover through the crowd of media people at Peck Point and back out onto Big Sister.
They had played nine holes. Bud shot himself a respectable 43. Mitch holed out with a sparkling 57.
The resident trooper’s cruiser was parked outside of Dolly’s house. Tal Bliss was helping Dolly and Bitsy unload groceries from the trunk of her old blue Mercedes.
“Anything new, Tal?” Bud asked the big trooper as Mitch hopped out and fetched his borrowed golf bag from the back.
Bliss shook his head. “Just making sure the girls could go about their business.”
“We’ve been shopping,” Bitsy burbled brightly. “And it was not pleasant. Those reporter persons-they just will not take no for an answer.
“Say, aren’t those Niles Seymour’s clubs?” Bliss asked Mitch sharply.
“Why, yes,” Mitch replied. “Bud thought it would be okay if I used them.”
Bliss pondered this disapprovingly, hands on hips. “Is that so?”
“He’s absolutely right, Tal,” Bud said placatingly. “I did.”