“It’s not right that we’re still playing tennis,” said Marge, “with Isobel lying dead in the morgue.”
“What else can we do? They won’t let us go home, so the best way to pass the time is to play tennis. It helps to keep people’s mind off these terrible events.”
Tex might have a point, of course, but Marge still found it disrespectful.
“Do you think we’re suspects? Only Chase was acting so funny when I asked him about the case. He almost made me think they’re suspecting us of all people.”
“I’m sure Chase knows better than that. But he has a role to fulfill. He has to put on his cop cap, not his son-in-law cap when he’s here talking to people.”
It was odd seeing this side of Odelia’s husband. He was so formal, so different. Odelia, bless her, was much the same as always. Though she couldn’t tell them a lot either. Of course the investigation was still ongoing so there wasn’t a lot to tell.
“It all seems to revolve around this book Isobel was writing, doesn’t it?”
She looked up at this.“I thought it was a burglary?”
“Well, they took Isobel’s phone and laptop, and left the rest of us undisturbed. So their thinking is that they were after Isobel’s manuscript.”
“How do you know? Did Chase tell you this?”
“No, some of the others did. Judging from Chase’s line of questioning, that’s the conclusion they seem to have reached. That it’s all about that book of hers.”
Marge was quiet for a moment, then said,“Do you have a secret, Tex? Are you in Isobel’s book, you think?”
Tex cleared his throat.“I’m afraid so, honey. Yes, I think Isobel was getting ready to reveal my secret to the world.”
“What secret would this be?” she asked, without looking up.
He swallowed audibly, then said,“I might as well tell you. It’s going to come out sooner or later anyway.” He heaved a deep sigh, while she braced herself. “You know how I’ve been saying I graduated from the Ross School Tennis Academy? And how I was trained by the great Pete Sampras himself? Well, I wasn’t.”
She smiled, much relieved.“That’s your big secret? That Sampras didn’t take you under his wing and teach you how to play tennis?”
“Yes, that’s my big secret. Why, did you know already?”
“Of course I knew, honey! Everybody does!”
He was stunned, and stared at her for a good minute before stammering,“B-b-but why did nobody ever tell me!”
“Because they like you too much to cause you embarrassment.”
“But I’ve been telling that story for years!”
“I know, and nobody has believed you for years.”
“God,” he said, dragging his fingers through his mane.
“So where did you learn how to play tennis, if it wasn’t at that school?”
“The local YMCA,” he said, which caused her to burst out laughing. He grinned. “They were cheap, and the coach was pretty good. Though not as good as Pete Sampras, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“But he still taught me a couple of my signature moves.” He demonstrated his backswing, almost clocking her on the nose. She would have told him that his ‘signature moves’ had never impressed anyone, but of course she didn’t. After all they were amateurs, not professionals, and they were in it for their enjoyment, not to win the US Open.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, then Marge said,“Shall I tell you my secret?”
“Please do.”
And so she told him. And much to her satisfaction he hadn’t known a thing about it, and it came as an absolute surprise to him. But he also seemed inordinately pleased, which warmed her heart all over again. He really was her dreamboat, wasn’t he? He couldn’t play tennis worth a damn, but he was grand.
CHAPTER 32
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The day broke bright and glorious, and we found ourselves returning to the house where Isobel Droba had been murdered two nights ago now, for more interviews with potential suspects and a lot more sleuthing endeavors.
Even before we arrived, Ona Konpacka had phoned and asked to see us. She had a matter of some urgency to discuss with us, and for a brief moment Chase and Odelia were almost giddy with the hope that the model was going to confess to murder. Once we were in her room, where Ona sat regally on a highback chair and her boyfriend Max Stinger nervously paced about, it soon became clear that no confession was forthcoming. Instead she apprised Chase and Odelia of an attempt at blackmail that was in progress, handing them no less than three blackmail notes.
“This third one came this morning,” she explained.
“’Once you’re ready to make the transfer contact this number,’” Chase read.
“If I may ask, what’s the secret?” asked Odelia, still hoping against hope that here sat their murderer.
“It’s what I told you yesterday,” said Ona. “About my sister and the talent scout?”
“Oh, right,” said Odelia, and had a hard time keeping the disappointment from her voice. “So they want ten thousand not to tell that story, huh?”