“On ice?”
“Oh, yes. Nitro is notoriously unstable. One wrong move and boom! So it’s handled at low temperatures and stored that way, too.”
She sighed. “So we’re looking for a killer who may or may not have had headaches in the past and who used a cold bottle of beer to kill the Most Fascinating Man in the World.”
Chase gave her a grin. “Isn’t this the most fascinating case you’ve ever worked on?”
They got out of the car and rode the elevator up to the lobby. The four men they were here to interview were waiting in the conference room. For the sake of expedience Chase had decided to interview them together instead of one by one. And so it was that when they walked into the conference room, the Most Intriguing, Most Iconic, Most Attractive and Sexiest Men in the World were seated around the table, drumming their fingers and looking glum and annoyed.
Most interesting men don’t like to be kept waiting. And they don’t appreciate jumping through hoops to satisfy the members of law enforcement.
What was more, Odelia had the distinct impression there was tension in the air. She could be mistaken, but she thought these men didn’t like each other very much.
Chase came straight down to business. “All of you guys had both motive and opportunity to stage an attack on Burt Goldsmith. What I would like to know is who you think is responsible for what happened to him.”
He pulled back a chair and took a seat, and Odelia followed suit.
The men all shared suspicious glances, but Bobbie Hawe was the first to speak. The Most Attractive Man in the World was a handsome fortysomething male of powerful build who obviously spent a great deal of time in the gym. He was dressed in a three-piece suit that was filled out by a muscular physique, and sported the kind of well-groomed facial hair that Robert Downey Jr. was so fond of. He also wore that actor’s favored tinted glasses.
“I know what you’re doing and it won’t work, detective,” he said in a low drawl.
“Oh? And what is it you think I’m doing?” asked Chase.
“You’re trying to pit us against each other. Make us roll over and give you the name of the culprit.” He spread his arms. “And I would give you the name of the culprit. If I knew.”
There were murmurs of agreement from his fellow interesting men.
“It’s not a big secret that none of us are great friends,” Bobbie continued, “but that doesn’t mean we aim to kill each other or blow each other up. And we definitely would never have tried to kill Burt Goldsmith, who was the elder statesman of our select group.”
“We have it on good authority that Burt came down to Hampton Cove to steal attention away from your conference,” said Odelia.
Bobbie laughed. “Let me guess. Curt told you that, right?”
She nodded.
“He wasn’t lying. Burt did come down here out of spite. But that doesn’t mean there was no mutual respect. We’re all businessmen, detective—Miss Poole. We compete for the same share of the market. But above all we respected Burt. For what he’d accomplished. And for his stamina. I mean, the man was as old as my grandfather—and still going strong.”
“Burt was a legend,” chimed in Jasper Hanson, Most Intriguing Man in the World. He was small and physically negligible, but there was something about him that was most… intriguing. Maybe it was his face, which didn’t seem put together well. His eyes too far apart, his lips too thin. His nose too flat. Whatever the case, when he spoke, everyone listened. “I actually liked the man,” he continued, ignoring howls of protest from his colleagues. “No, I really did. We had a connection. We would meet each other on the road—us interesting men do a lot of trade shows and conventions, as you might imagine—or in some hotel bar, and we would invariably drift into each other’s ken, sharing a few beers—bourbon for him. Burt didn’t like the taste of beer, not even his own brand—and swap war stories.” His expression sobered. “He will be sorely missed by this community. And definitely by yours truly.”
“I never liked him,” said Nestor Greco, the Most Iconic Man in the World. He was squat, heavyset, with receding hairline, and dressed head to foot in black. He looked like a guy who could have had a part in Goodfellas, shooting the breeze with the local mobsters. “I thought he was a fake. Just a big phony.”
“Burt was the real deal,” said Jasper. “The most interesting man of all.”
“Nah, he wasn’t. He was an actor playing a part. The real Burt was a bore and a drunk. A drunk!” he insisted over the protestations of his colleague. “The only time he was interesting was when he was drunk as a skunk—but then we’re all interesting when we’re plastered. Even the biggest dullard in the world becomes interesting when he’s loaded to the gills.”
“I think you’re all wrong,” said Dale Parson, the Sexiest Man Alive. He looked like a swimwear model, with his sharp features, wavy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. “The only one who ever knew Burt the man was me. I never told anyone this but he’s the one who got me launched in this business. I was a walk-on on one of his commercials when he spotted me and gave me my first big break. Hooked me up with his ad campaign manager and that’s how I got started modeling swimwear for Vic’s Secret and underwear for Kevin Klein.” He tapped the table smartly. “That’s the kind of guy Burt was. Generous and loyal to his friends.”
“So who killed him?” asked Chase. “If all of you thought he was so great—”
“I never said he was great,” said Nestor. “I said he was a loser.”
“You said he was a bore,” Jasper corrected him.
“A bore and a loser. And a drunk. A nasty drunk. He once got into a fight with a nun. A nun! Who gets into a fight with a holy woman? Only a drunk loser like Burt Goldsmith!”
“Don’t call him a loser,” said Dale, looking pained. “Burt was like a father to me.”
“Well, maybe he was your father,” said Nestor.
“What are you saying? That Burt screwed my mother?” asked Dale, rising.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying! Burt screwed everyone’s mother and their mother!”
“Please, gentlemen,” said Bobbie. “Let’s not do this. A man died. Show some respect.”
“He never had any respect for me!” said Nestor. “Why should I show respect for a man who wiped his ass on my profession! Wiped his ass on me!”
“Please,” Bobbie repeated. “Is this helpful? Is this productive? Please.”
“The man was an asswipe,” Nestor continued, “and he screwed your mother,” he told Dale, pointing his finger at the man. “Which makes you an asswipe’s asswipe!”
The veins in the swimwear model’s temples were throbbing, and his fists were clenched. It wouldn’t take much for him to take a swing at the squat Nestor Greco.
“Please,” Bobbie said again. “This is not the way we do things around here.”
“This is exactly the way we do things around here,” said Jasper softly, squinting at the ceiling, a nickel playing through his fingers. “Which is why we’ll all get arrested and charged with first-degree murder if we don’t get our acts together and figure out who’s behind this.”
“Well, we all know who’s behind this, don’t we?” said Nestor.
“If you’re going to say my mother is behind this, I’ll slug you,” said Dale. “I swear to god I’ll slug you and I’ll slug you good and proper.”
“Asswipes don’t slug people,” Nestor pointed out. “They—”
“Don’t say it,” Dale warned. “Don’t you dare!”
“I suggest you take a long hard look at Tracy Sting, detective,” said Jasper. “We might not agree on anything, but we all agree on this. Tracy is the one who did this to Burt.”
“Tracy Sting?” asked Odelia. “Who is she?”
“Burt’s handler,” said Chase. “We’ve been wanting to have a word with her.”