Walt must’ve seen the disbelief in Nick’s expression. “It was kept quiet, of course, but Marla, she’s not one to put a lot of stock in her wedding vows. She and Alex, they’ve split up a couple of times. They both were involved with other people, but they always end up reconciling. Who the hell knows why? I figure either the money is keeping ’em together or they’re one of those couples who can’t live with each other any more than they can live without. So . . . one of those times they were split Marla and Montgomery got it on.”
Nick’s stomach turned sour at the thought. “I don’t know what Marla would see in Montgomery,” he growled, resisting the urge to reach across the table, bunch the front of Walt’s shirt in his fist and call him a liar. But in all the years Nick had known Walt Haaga, the PI had always told the truth.
“He’s got looks, supposedly, though that beating took its toll. When Fenton was alive, Montgomery spread money around like it was water. That’s changed now, of course, but when he was seeing Marla, his side of the family still had their share of the family fortune.” Walt took a long pull from his beer and motioned to a waitress for another. “To her credit, the fling didn’t last long, a month or two at most. Then she and Alex reconciled. Again.”
Fury, dark and dangerous, shot through Nick’s bloodstream and jealousy, an emotion he hadn’t dealt with in years, surfaced. “Who else?” he asked, hating the fact that he had to know.
“Who else what?”
“Who else was Marla’s lover?” he asked.
The waitress deposited another round of beers on the table and Walt, watching her saunter back to the bar, said, “I don’t have a lot of names, but Marla wasn’t as discreet as she could have been. She was involved with a married guy she met at that tennis club she goes to and then there were rumors that she was seeing her daughter’s riding instructor. Seems as if your sister-in-law is a hot pants.”
Nick’s fist balled and he thought of how Marla had responded to him last night. He’d blamed it on the damned chemistry between them; now he wasn’t so sure.
“Where’s Montgomery living?” he asked, figuring he should have a talk with his cousin.
“Right now he’s got a place in Oakland. There have been times when he’s been down and out, had to mooch off his sister, but right now he seems flush, able to afford a nice place of his own. Snazzy apartment with a weight room, clubhouse, pool, the whole nine yards.”
“What’s he doing to support himself?”
“That, I haven’t been able to determine. No visible means,” he said as two men in their twenties ambled in, ordered “a couple of brewskies” and took positions around one of the pool tables.
“What about the Reverend?”
Walt plucked a peanut from the bowl on the table, cracked it and said, “Another charmer. Ex-football player who found God.”
“I know. I had the pleasure of meeting him today.”
Walt popped the peanut into his mouth. “He got himself into some hot water last year at Cahill House. Involved with one of the girls . . . but it’s a little nebulous,” Walt admitted. “The girl made some noise to her mother who just happens to be . . .”
“Pam Delacroix,” Nick said. “I heard about it today from the detective in charge of the case. The police are looking for her.”
Managing a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin, Walt said, “They’re a step behind me.” He cracked open another peanut shell.
“You found her?”
“Yep.” Pleased with himself he tossed the nut into the air and caught it in his mouth.
“How?”
“I’m brilliant. And I have a great Internet source.” He washed the nut down with a swig of beer. “She lives in Santa Rosa. I thought I’d go pay her a visit tonight. Want to come along?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Nick said.
“Thought you’d want to be there. You know, this is starting to get interesting.”
“Or dangerous,” Nick thought out loud, trying to tamp down the jealousy that had consumed him from the minute Walt had brought up Montgomery. “There are a couple of things we need to check out,” he said to Walt. “Marla and I went to see her father today and the old man, who’s pretty much out of it, was convinced that she was an imposter, that the real Marla had been there just the other day and this woman was named Kylie. He rambled on about her being some whore’s daughter and I figure there was a time when a woman tried to shake him down, claimed her daughter was his.”
Walt’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll start with birth records. Don’t suppose you have a last name?”
“That would be too easy.” Nick finished his beer. “And it might be nothing. The old man’s about to kick off. And is on a lot of pain medication. I’ll be surprised if he lasts a week.”
Walt nodded. “So what’s our game plan?”
“Let’s start with Alex. I want you to follow my brother. See where he goes. He claims he’s in meetings but doesn’t come home until after midnight.”
“Sounds like a girlfriend.”