"It's called loyalty," Nick said.
"It's called lunacy," Tess said.
Nick chuckled. "
Lunacy?
That's a big word for you, Tess."
She nodded. "One of Nancy's guests said it last night. They were all laughing about him and one said, 'We know the old saying that "a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client," but what's a lawyer who has an ex-wife for a client?' Another guest said, 'Nuts.' They all laughed, and the first one said it's lunacy for a lawyer to defend his ex, said she had no idea why you'd do that. I like Nancy, even if she is kind of scary."
"She's the mother of my child," Scott said.
Tess's eyes got wide. "
Nancy Grace is the mother of your child?
"
Nick laughed. "Tess's bra size is also her IQ."
"Rebecca," Scott said. "Rebecca is the mother of my child. That's why I'm defending her."
"Oh, yeah … Boo." Tess smiled. "Rebecca showed me her picture. Cute kid." The smile left her face. "My mom and dad got divorced when I was ten. It was never the same." She drank her margarita and said, "I miss him."
"Your dad?"
"Trey."
"Did you love him?"
"My dad?"
"Trey."
"No. I miss the sex. Best sport sex I ever had."
"Sport sex?"
"You know, athletic sex … wild sex … crazy sex." Tess McBride's eyes glazed over, and she licked her red lips. "Better-than-a-workout, full-body-sweat, hot-steaming-panting-and-grunting-like-wild-animals sex."
Scott and Nick blinked hard in unison.
"Wow," Nick said. "I didn't even need Viagra."
Tess leaned toward Scott. "Don't you have sport sex?"
"Not anymore."
She gave him a coy smile. "I could help you with that."
"Did you practice safe sex?"
Rebecca would need to know.
"I'm not stupid."
"Just loose," Nick said.
She shot him another dirty look.
"Where was Brett last Thursday night?" Scott said.
"Where else? In a hotel room watching Nancy Grace."
"He played Friday morning," Nick said. "In Orlando."
"At eight," Tess said. "They don't fire up the margarita machine until noon, so I slept in."
It seemed improbable that Brett could have killed Trey between midnight and 3:00
A.M.
in Galveston and gotten back to Florida for an 8:00
A.M.
tee time. But a defense lawyer never discounted someone with a motive to murder.
"Have you ever been to Trey's beach house in Galveston?"
"No."
"Has Brett?"
"No. Look, Brett doesn't have the balls to make a five-foot putt to win, much less murder someone … or satisfy me." She shook her head. "I should've been a Mormon."
"A
Mormon?
" Nick said.
"Yeah. Then I could have four husbands—one to support me, three to satisfy me." She smiled. "And they'd have built-in beer buddies. A win-win deal."
Nick stared at her in apparent disbelief at what he had just heard.
"Tess, Mormon women don't get four husbands. Mormon men get four wives."
"
Really?
Well, that sucks."
Tess downed her margarita. She placed the goblet on the bar and waved to the bartender. Scott opened the tote bag and pulled out one of the freezer-sized Ziploc plastic baggies he had brought with him that day. He reached past Tess, took the goblet by the stem between his fingers, and dropped it into the baggie. He then put the baggie into the tote bag. Tess had observed Scott's actions with a wry smile.
"I didn't kill him."
"Who did?"
"Maybe Rebecca. She's the Guilty Groupie."
"Was she?"
"Guilty?"
"A groupie?"
"No. I'm a groupie. I love having sex. She loves having things."
"So why would she kill Trey and lose everything?"
"She wouldn't."
"Did he say anything about marrying her?"
"When? While we were having sex?"
"Anytime."
"That was the only time I saw him. And no, he didn't."
She sipped the fresh margarita the bartender had delivered.
"You ever see them fighting?"
"No. Never. They were happy."
"Did they drink?"
"Everyone on tour drinks. There's a lot of free time."
"Why didn't they get married?"
A shrug. "She didn't want to push him, risk losing everything."
"Why'd you end the affair?"
"I didn't. He did."
"Why?"
" 'Cause he started up with Lacy."
"
Lacy Parker?
" Nick said.
Tess nodded. "I told him we could do a threesome, but Trey was kind of small-town, you know. He would only cheat with one woman at a time."
Scott turned to Nick. "Who's Lacy?"
"Donnie Parker's wife. Hot little number, used to do porn movies. They met during the first round of the Vegas tournament, got married right after the last round." He shook his head. "Something about Vegas."
Scott turned back to Tess. "Did Rebecca know about Lacy?"
"She never said anything to me. We were friends."
"
Friends?
And you had an affair with Trey?"
She shrugged. "I was better friends with him."
"What about Donnie?"
She laughed. "No way. Shortest driver on tour."
Scott turned to Nick. "What's his story?"
"His story is, I can't buy an endorsement for a player married to a former porn queen. One day he was bitching because of all the endorsements I got for Trey, I told him, 'Donnie, patrons of porn don't get paid to endorse chocolate milk!' "
"Were they at the Orlando tournament? Lacy and Donnie?"
"No," Nick said. "They were home in San Diego. Donnie's been rehabbing a bum rotator cuff the last two weeks, with his therapist out west."
"But if Trey was having an affair with Lacy at the time of his death—"
"He wasn't," Tess said.
"How do you know?"
"Because he left her for Riley."
"
Riley Hager?
" Nick said. He threw his hands up. "Jesus, is there any woman on tour Trey didn't screw?"
Tess's eyebrows crunched slightly, as if she were thinking.
"Maybe the older wives."
Nick faced Scott. "Riley is Vic Hager's wife. He's ranked fifteenth in the world. He made the cut in Orlando, finished eleventh."
"And you're his agent, too?"
Nick shrugged. "Riley used to be an underwear model in L.A. She was voted second hottest WAG on tour."
"What's a WAG?"
"Wives and girlfriends. There's an online rating system for athletes' WAGs, for each sport. It's a big deal, all the girls want the title."
"I was third," Tess said with pride.
"Who was first?"
Nick and Tess exchanged a glance.
"Rebecca," Scott said.
Nick nodded.
"She's eleven years older than me," Tess said, "and her body is still perfect. And abs like that after a baby? Amazing."
Scott turned to Nick. "You didn’t know about this?"
"Yeah, her abs are amazing."
"No. About Trey's affairs?"
"I was his agent, Scott, not his pimp."
"What's the deal out here, all this
Desperate Housewives
stuff?"
"You got four groups of players on tour." Nick ticked them off on his fingers. "You got your single guys, they screw everything with tits. You got your guys with girlfriends, they party hardy every night. You got your married without children—some stray, some don't. Most of the guys are real sticklers about the Rules of Golf, not so much the vows of marriage. Ask Tiger. And you got your married with children, they bring the wives and kids on tour during the summer, it's like being in fucking McDonald's every day. Trey—I guess he found those wives looking for a little fun. Like Tess."
"My middle name," she said with a smile.
"No wonder we found Viagra in Trey's bathroom."
"Hell, looks like he was servicing half the women on tour. Can't keep that up on protein shakes alone." Nick smiled. "They pop those blue pills like M&Ms out here."
Scott turned back to Tess. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did all these wives have affairs with Trey? Why did you?"
She smiled. "You saw him—he was gorgeous. Our husbands aren't. Jesus, Brett looks like that guy in
Sling Blade
."
"But you married him," Nick said.
" 'Cause he's rich. Sort of. And I was really drunk that night."
"Ah, true love."
"Did Rebecca know about Riley?" Scott said.
"She didn't act like it," Tess said.
"So at the time of his death, Trey was having an affair with Riley Hager?"
"No."
“But you just said—"
"I said he left me for Lacy and Lacy for Riley. But he left Riley, too."
"For whom?"
"Billie Jean."
"
Billie Jean Puckett?
" Nick said.
She nodded. "He started up with her a few weeks before he …"
Nick, to Scott: "Pete's daughter. She’s seventeen."
"Hard to compete with a teenager who doesn't even know how to spell cellulite," Tess said. "Even for Riley."
They left Tess to the margarita machine and walked outside. Scott needed a breath of fresh air, even if the air were ninety-five degrees.
"Five WAGs plus the Mexican gal, all before the U.S. Open," Nick said. "That's a whole season for most guys."
"Is every WAG out here a Hooter's girl, a porn queen, or an underwear model?"
"No, of course not, Scott. Some are former
Playboy
Playmates and
Penthouse
Pets. For gorgeous gals like Tess and Lacy and Riley, those gigs are straight shots to the altar with a rich athlete."
"Why?"
" 'Cause that's where pro athletes shop for wives.
Playboy
and
Penthouse
, that's like the social register for them. Guy wins the World Series, he marries a Playmate. Guy wins the NBA championship, he marries a Pet. Guy wins the Super Bowl, he marries a supermodel."
"Why?"
"Because he can. See, Scott, football and basketball stars, they've had gorgeous gals all through high school and college, they ain't suddenly gonna settle for the nice girl next door. Did you? And golfers, they've been dreaming of having a gal like Tess or Lacy or Riley since they were thirteen with acne and whacking off in the shower. They were the guys who had to wear husky pants, who didn't have a date to the prom, who weren't good enough athletes to play football or basketball. So their dads took them out to the golf course. Ten years later, they're on tour and filthy rich. Now they can have those girls they dreamed about. This is their adolescence—with money."
Tess McBride had walked up.
"The margarita machine break down?" Nick said with a smile.
But Tess wasn’t smiling.
"There's something else you should know," she said.
"What?"
"Pete knew … about Trey and Billie Jean."
"How do you know?"
"Pete confronted Trey in the locker room at the Challenge, slammed him up against the lockers. Brett was there and …"
"And what?"
"Pete threatened to kill Trey, if he didn't stay away from Billie Jean."
Scott walked away fast; Nick caught up.
"Pete's temper is legendary on tour," Nick said. "If you haven't been cussed out by Pete Puckett, you either haven't been on tour very long or your name is Tiger."
"Tell me about him," Scott said.
"Pete's ranked five-seventy-eight in the world, which means there are high school juniors ranked higher than him. Won the British Open twenty-four years ago, a few minor tournaments along the way. He's forty-nine now, been running on fumes the last decade, hoping to make it to the senior tour next year, kind of like a pension fund for old golfers."
"Where does he live?"
"Ranch outside Austin."
"Where Goose lives."
Nick nodded.
"Rebecca said he looks like Rambo."