In Death 31 - Indulgence in Death

the Third be your father?”
    “He would.”
    “We’re acquainted. I hope you’ll give him my best.”
    “Happy to.” Dudley angled, subtly, giving his shoulder to Roarke. “How do you know him?”
    “Other mutual business interests, and a shared passion for golf. He’s a fierce competitor.”
    “You’ve played him?”
    “Many times. I beat him the last time we played by a single stroke. We have to make arrangements for a rematch.”
    “Maybe I can stand as a surrogate. What do you say, Sly? Shall we make it a foursome?”
    “Why not? Unless Roarke objects.”
    “Not at all.” And that, Roarke thought, couldn’t have been easier.
    Shortly, they stood outside in the breeze surveying the first hole. Dudley smoothed on his golf cap.
    “I met your wife,” he said to Roarke.
    “Did you?”
    “You must have heard about the murder. A limo driver, booked by someone who, it appears, hacked into one of our security people’s accounts. A terrible thing.”
    “Yes, of course. I caught a mention of it on a screen report. I hope that’s not causing you too much trouble.”
    “A ripple.” He dismissed it with a flick of the wrist as he took his driver from the caddy. “She did me a service when she uncovered a scam being run by two of my employees.”
    “Really. Not connected to the murder?”
    “Apparently not. Just something she came across while looking into the compromised account. I should send her flowers.”
    “She’d consider it her job, and nothing more.”
    Dudley took a few practice swings. “I assumed, from reading Nadine Furst’s book, you were more involved in her work.”
    Roarke flashed an easy grin. “It plays well that way in a book, doesn’t it? Still, the Icove business had some real meat, and certainly interest in it has proven to have considerable legs. A dead limo driver, even with that loose connection to you, isn’t quite as . . . sensational.”
    “The media seems to find it meaty enough.” Turning his back on Roarke, he set at the tee.
    Annoyed, Roarke thought, and wasn’t surprised to find himself largely ignored by both men. Su was more of an interest to them as his blood was bluer and truer than an upstart from the Dublin alleyways.
    He had no doubt they’d never have spoken above two words to him, much less arranged a golf foursome, if not for their belief he had the inside track on Eve’s investigation. Now that he’d indicated otherwise, he was of no particular interest.
    The space they provided gave him the opportunity to observe them.
    They cheated, he noted, and by the fifth hole he’d deciphered their codes and signals. Smooth and subtle, he concluded, and very well practiced.
    They were a bloody pas de deux, he thought.
    Midway through the course Roarke and Su opted to send their cart ahead and walk to the next hole.
    The temperatures hadn’t yet reached their peak, and on the tree-lined green in Queens, with the occasional breeze to stir the air, the heat was pleasant enough.
    And the walk, as far as Roarke was concerned, provided more entertainment than bashing at a little white ball with a club.
    “They’re disrespectful to you,” Su said, “in the most polite of ways.”
    “That doesn’t concern me.”
    But Su shook his head. “They wear their rudeness as comfortably as their golf shoes.”
    “I expect they put more thought into the shoes. The rudeness is simply second nature.”
    “So it appears.” He gave Roarke a curious look as they walked. “In the years we’ve done business together, you’ve indulged me in a round of golf, which you dislike, but this is the first time you’ve arranged a foursome in this way. Which you did,” Su continued, “by maneuvering Dudley into suggesting it.”
    “One of the reasons I like doing business with you, David, is you see clearly no matter how thick the bullshit.”
    “A skill we share. And so seeing, I think you have other concerns here.”
    “You’d be right. It was an opportunity to ask your opinion, as you know Dudley’s father. What do you think of the son?”
    “That he and his friend aren’t the sort I would play golf with as a rule.”
    “Because they cheat.”
    Su stopped, narrowed his eyes. “Do they? I wondered. But why would they risk censure by the club for a casual game? We have no bet.”
    “For some, winning’s more important than the play.”
    “Will you report them?”
    “No. That doesn’t concern me either. I’m happy to let them win this game, in their way,